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CHAPTER VIII

VIRGINIA DURING THE RESTORATION. BACON’S REBELLION

To the student of the continental colonies Virginia after the Restoration presents the first genuine picture of the royal province, of its characteristics, and of the social and political conflicts which might develop in its midst. Virginia, in the earlier period of its history, had been proprietary; and after that had closed, for about fifteen years it existed under an ill-organized executive. Before that evil had been wholly removed, the outbreak of civil war in England interrupted normal relations with the mother country. The war in turn had been succeeded by the exceptional conditions of the Commonwealth and Protectorate. The return of the king was followed by the restoration of former relations between Virginia and the home government, an incident of which was the creation of an executive within the province itself that was suited to its needs and which for that reason could become permanent.

To Virginians, especially after the Restoration, the fact that they were immediately dependent on the crown was a source of pride. The term “dominion,” when applied to Virginia, carried with it a special and dignified meaning, which did not attach to it when it was used in reference to a chartered colony. Virginians had to do immediately with appointees of the crown, with privy councillors and other officers of state in England; not with proprietors and their appointees, or with the elected officials of a corporate colony. They could reflect with pride not only on the fact that theirs was the first colony to be permanently settled, but also that for so long a period they had been the only province, the only dominion in the higher and more dignified sense. This suited well with the natural pride of the cavalier and of the large landed proprietor, with his troops of dependents and his position as official and social leader in his locality. Virginians,

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too, by trade connection and ties of relationship and social intercourse, were drawn into closer union with England than was common among the colonies. English merchant vessels annually visited the harbor of Virginia in fleets; were ever bringing her immigrants and carrying passengers to and from the old world. Correspondence was active between merchants and planters and their agents on both sides of the ocean. This, added to the volume of official correspondence, kept England in closer touch with Virginia than with any other continental colony.¹

The spirit of harmony and union which had this origin was strengthened by the loyalist temper of the province and by the fact that the only form of religion which existed within it was a somewhat narrow Anglicanism. To support and develop all this the form and spirit of the royal executive were well adapted. The officials who constituted it—Berkeley, the governor, with his councillors, Thomas Ludwell, the secretary, Norwood, the treasurer, Moryson, the deputy governor, and the rest—received their appointments from England and were led by interest, if not by natural inclination, to support the government and its policy. Though for the most part Virginians, they formed the substratum and official framework on which rested the connection between England and the province. Their influence was decisive in filling most of the inferior offices of the colony; it became strong in determining the results of elections and the course of legislation. The governor and the group of councillors who habitually acted with him were able to control a voting majority among the burgesses. By family alliances and in other ways they became the social leaders of the province. In many of the counties they monopolized political power. In the vestries, which now came to fill their membership in many instances by coöptation, they exerted a very considerable influence. As local militia colonels the social and political leadership of the councillors was still further enhanced. They had already secured exemption from taxation for themselves and families. The governor and councillors,

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together with those whom they were able collectively to influence, formed a political phalanx, held together by the spirit of loyalty and the advantages of office.¹

It is thus apparent that conditions in Virginia were analogous to those which were brought about in Maryland by the influence of the Calvert family. There was much that was autocratic in the power of the governor and council and exclusive in their views. Berkeley, who stood at their head, was the ideal and personification of their spirit. In Virginia he reflected the dress, bearing, language, views, and policy of the court of Charles II, especially of the Tory element which held chief sway in that court. To him Cromwell and the Commonwealth were the sum of all villanies, the union of church and crown which had now been restored the essence of all good. Religious dissent and political opposition could expect nothing but harsh treatment at his hands. Though brave and chivalrous, he was as bigoted as the narrowest among the Puritans. In reality the official Anglican oligarchy of Virginia were representatives of the same mental type as the Puritan oligarchy of Massachusetts, though the defence of the traditional system which had come down to them did not call forth the kind and degree of mental activity which distinguished the New England leaders.

So far as one can discover, during the first ten years of his administration Berkeley was an efficient governor. With reasonable diligence he performed his duties both toward the province and the king. We find him actively caring for its defence during the Dutch war. He devoted much attention to efforts which had as their object the raising of other staples than tobacco. Later some parties complained that too much had been spent in building storehouses for such products at Jamestown or elsewhere. So far as was ordinarily attainable in the colonies, the militia of Virginia during Berkeley’s administration seemed efficient. Over the interests of the church and of morality no Anglican could watch more carefully than Berkeley. Sessions of the assembly were regularly

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held; they passed quietly and their product in the form of laws was regularly sent to England for approval. In 1670 the suffrage was restricted to freeholders, while, as in England, the assembly which had been elected under the strong royalist influence of 1661 was, by successive prorogations, continued in existence till 1676. By this means the burgesses, as far as possible, were kept in line with the aristocratic tendencies of the period. The home government was also kept informed of the doings of the provincial executive. Under Virginia conditions Berkeley was the counterpart of Nicolls and Andros in New York, the faithful servant of his masters in England. But he was more. So long did he reside in Virginia, that he became fully identified with its life. Very few, if any, of the royal governors became so perfectly representative of their provinces as did he. At the end he was more a Virginian than an Englishman. So well did he lead his subordinates, that, like Thomas Ludwell, they could hardly find words sufficiently expressive of their admiration for him.¹ For a long period little or no evidence appears of factions within the council, or of conflicts there like those which later agitated the council of New York. Relations were also friendly on the part of both governor and council with the burgesses. The social and political machine, under the management of the governor and councillors, moved smoothly and peacefully on its way.

But, as time passed, faults in the mechanism began to appear. As the governor grew old, he became irascible and avaricious. Not only did he draw his handsome salary and perquisites regularly but, as occasion offered, he added to his landed estate, while he also became deeply interested in the fur trade. That he cared much for the enforcement of the acts of trade is not probable, while it is possible that he profited by their neglect. Meantime, the councillors of his earlier days died or left the province, or for other reasons became unable to attend to their duties. Berkeley himself finally admitted that he was left with much fewer and younger

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men about him, feeling in time of crisis very much alone.¹ Some said that he had neglected to nominate to the vacancies as they occurred, with the result that there was less opportunity in his old age to counteract his caprice. Some began to use language about his conduct which was as severe as, in earlier years, it had been adulatory.

By 1670 settlements had extended above the middle courses of the rivers. On the outskirts of the colony there was a genuine frontier population, while the inhabitants of the tidewater counties, no longer exposed to Indian attacks, lived in a somewhat matured society and in permanent relations with the outside world. Trade connections with the colonies to the north and south were established. In the lower counties lived the large planters and the great mass of indented servants; there the colonial aristocracy was intrenched, the peninsula of Accomac, because of the broad bay that intervened, forming a district somewhat apart from the mainland. In spite of some expenditures in road building, means of communication overland were very poor, and the rivers were long destined to be the chief avenues of travel. Administratively and socially each county was to an extent a unit by itself, the obstacles to communication between localities being so great that the common life of the province was far from strong enough to overcome them all. Already conditions were beginning to appear which in the next century were to lead to marked differences between the upper and lower counties. Even now a shock suffered by the seaboard counties would not necessarily be much felt in the upper settlements; while, conversely, the effects of an Indian raid would not be distributed equally through the upper and the lower districts of the province.

The same was true of social classes, between which the distinctions were relatively clear cut in the tobacco colonies. The large planters, the small planters and frontiersmen, and the indented servants, each had their distinct circle of interests, and the issues which affected one did not necessarily signify much to the others. The Virginian democracy, which

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passed its sober existence beneath the aristocratic crust of society, was much more intensely colonial than were the officials and great families with their European connections and ambitions. It was possible, on occasion, that the frontiersmen and small planters, assisted by servants, might rise and attempt to throw off the aristocratic incubus as too costly, even though such a course might involve treason to the mother country. And the indented servant—the vital problem of his cramped existence might be touched even by a movement like this. These suggestions indicate how far the society of Virginia—or of any other colony, for that matter—came from being perfectly mobile, and how difficult it is, especially with the scanty information at our command, to estimate the impression made upon different localities and classes by any seemingly general movement.

The freemen of Virginia, even though it was a province, had long enjoyed a considerable degree of self government. For a generation assemblies had met annually, and there was no subject of important concern to the province which had not been in part or wholly regulated by legislation. Not only did the grand assembly appropriate the revenue, and proclaim its exclusive right so to do; but to an extent it regulated the granting of land, it established counties and defined the jurisdiction of courts, it created minor offices and specified their duties, it fixed the amounts of fees, regulated trade and industry, the church, the militia, and relations with the Indians. The scope of legislation was broader in Virginia than in Maryland, and in amount it was more abundant. In the early days, moreover, the council had enjoyed unwonted power. Later also had come the more fully developed self government of the Interregnum. But, as has already been indicated, there was another side to the picture. The provisions for the auditing of accounts were imperfect, and the governor was able to prolong indefinitely the existence of an assembly. By his large appointing power he could control, not only the general officers of the province, but the sheriffs and justices of the counties. Official discretion was also large, while means of communication were poor and the instrumentalities for creating and enforcing

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public opinion were correspondingly imperfect. Political power might and did under these conditions accumulate in a few hands, and the possessors of it were known, in some cases, to violate the laws, to oppress those who happened to be at their mercy, and to use their power for their own advantage and enrichment. After this condition had continued for years, the ruling oligarchy fell under the suspicion in many minds of being worse and more corrupt than it really was. Sweeping charges of public robbery and oppression began to be made and believed. The assembly, through long compliance, seemed to have become a party to the evil and could no longer be viewed as the guardian of liberty or of honest government. The pay of the burgesses and their annual sessions then became to many an occasion of offence and persistent criticism. The small planter especially lost faith in the ability or inclination of the assembly to see that the revenue which came from his hard earnings was honestly expended. By this process were hatched the seeds of revolt.

But there were other and more specific causes which disturbed the equanimity of the province. Nothing contributed more directly to this than did the projects for granting Virginia wholly or in part to proprietors, which were in agitation for fifteen years or more after the return of Charles II. In these plans Lord John Berkeley was prominently interested, and for this reason the governor was able to accomplish nothing in opposition to them. They were schemes of greedy courtiers, who sought by means of a grant secured through influence with the king to divert a part of Virginia revenue into their own possession. Like a number of other similar events during this period, these illustrated the careless indifference with which Charles II would take steps that placed the most serious obstacles in the path of his ministers and tended to defeat the policy to which the government stood committed.

In 1649, early in the exile of Prince Charles, he had issued a grant to a number of noblemen who had remained faithful to the royal cause till the last, among them being Henry, Earl of St Alban’s, Lord Culpeper, and Sir John Berkeley,

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This covered the Northern neck of Virginia,—the region between the Rappahannock and Potomac rivers, the mountains, and Chesapeake bay—and included about one third of the province. In course of time some of the grantees died and others transferred their claims. After the Restoration both the old and the new proprietors were inclined to hold the king to the promise which he had made in the time of his adversity. They leased the territory to certain parties, who went to Virginia to secure their claim and begin settlement. Of the proceedings of the agents nothing is known, except that such obstacles were thrown in their way by the Virginians that they could not accomplish their object. In 1662 the king ordered the governor and council of the colony to assist them. In August, 1663, the command was repeated with some emphasis.¹ But no result followed.

In 1667, however, the project was revived in England. In June of that year Thomas Ludwell, secretary of Virginia, whose letters kept both Secretary Arlington and Lord John Berkeley well informed as to the state of affairs in the province, wrote to the latter urging that the king should not establish a company over the colony or place it under a proprietor, because both were very distasteful to the inhabitants. But before this letter reached England, at the request of the proprietors the attorney general was ordered to prepare a surrender of the original patent and a new grant of the same region to the Earl of St. Albans, Lord John Berkeley, Sir William Moreton, and John Tretheway. This was issued on May 8,1669.²

By this patent the right was granted to lay out and enjoy hunting grounds, to sell or lease land and receive the rent therefor. The grantees were also empowered to divide the grant into counties, hundreds, parishes, and towns, to erect cities, churches, and colleges, to endow them with lands and goods, and to enjoy the rights of patronage over them. In the same way they might erect and enjoy the privileges of markets and fairs. They might also establish and hold manorial courts. It thus appears that powers of considerable

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importance were granted, which might result in the development of local government. Under these the grantees would have been more than mere proprietors of the land; their powers would have exceeded those possessed by the proprietors of Maryland and New Jersey after they had lost their governmental authority.

But the authority of the grantees was also subjected to important restrictions. They were required not to disturb grants which had been made by the governor and council previous to September 29, 1661, and to observe contracts which had been made in pursuance of such grants. Actual residents within the territory at the time when the patent was issued were not to be forced to do suit and service in any manorial court of the proprietors. The residents were also to enjoy all the privileges to which they were entitled under the government of Virginia, to have the right of appeal from the manorial courts to the general court of Virginia, and be subject to the military control of that colony. It was even declared that the laws of Virginia should be fully operative within the grant. From a comparison of the provisions in the entire document, it becomes apparent that in this case it was not the intention of the king to separate the Northern neck entirely from Virginia, as had been done when the grant of Maryland was made; but to create a subordinate fief or proprietorship within Virginia. Though the grantees would hold their land direct from the king, in matters of government the dealings of their colonists with the king would be through Virginia. In view of the relations which the patentees bore to the king, even this was fraught with great peril to Virginia, and might well arouse deep anxiety. It was, moreover, the evident intention of the king to give the patentees the support of his authority. Early in 1670, at their request, he wrote¹ to Governor Berkeley commanding him to assist them in settling the region, and to give them all due encouragement and protection. Berkeley replied in a letter to Arlington: “the Patent, being not two years old, and yet granting all the land taken up nine years before, doth extreamly trouble those who . . . took up land within

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that same time and now must have new ensurances. . . . Besides there are many other grants in that patent inconsistent with the settlednesse of this Government which hath no barr to its prosperitie but proprieties on both hands, and therefore is it mightily wounded in this last, nor have I ever observed anything so much move the peoples’ griefe or passion, or which doth more put a stop to theire industry than their uncertainty whether they should make a country for the king or other Proprietors.”¹ But the representations made by the magistrates and friends of Virginia were successful. No serious attempt was made to found a settlement, and in a short time the patentees resigned their charter to the crown.

But the slight hold which the desires of the Virginians had upon the mind of Charles II appears from his next act. In February, 1672, steps were taken to grant all Virginia for thirty-one years to Lords Arlington and Culpeper.² They were to have all lands, receive all rents, and exercise all jurisdictions which had arisen or existed under any grant which had been previously made. They were to receive all arrears of rents and profits which had accrued since 1669. They might subdivide the territory for purposes of local government, erect churches and chapels and present thereto, appoint sheriffs, surveyors, and other local officers, erect manors and hold markets. In this docket no mention whatever was made of the government already existing in Virginia, or of the planters there and their vested rights. If there was danger that the officers of the former patentees might encroach on the rights of the Virginians, that peril was now increased.

Opposition to the proposed new grant was at once begun. In 1674 the assembly voted to petition the king and to send agents to England to labor in the interests of the province.³ Virginia had already established the precedent of

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keeping an agent in England. Since the return of Governor Berkeley, Francis Moryson had acted in that capacity. Secretary Ludwell and Major General Robert Smith were now joined with him in the work.¹ A poll tax of fifty pounds of tobacco was levied on the tithables of all the counties, and also a tax of the same rate on every person who was cast in a suit, to meet their expenses. The agents were successful in their efforts. Lords Arlington and Culpeper agreed to give up their claims to everything except the quit rents and escheats. In 1681 Arlington made over his claims to Culpeper, and later still Culpeper gave all the claims which he held under the grant to the king.² In 1684 the king ordered Lord Howard of Effingham, who was then governor, to collect the quit rents in his Majesty’s name, while a grant of £600 a year for twenty years was to be paid to Lord Culpeper, one-half of which was in compensation for his claims in Virginia.³ But though this satisfactory result was finally attained, much time passed in the interval, during which the fact that a tax had to be levied for such a purpose rankled in the minds of the colonists.

After the grantees had yielded the main point, the agents tried to secure the colonists still further by urging the king to grant them a charter. They reminded him of the precedents for an act of this kind which had been set by the company in the early history of the province. The points respecting which the agents desired guaranties on behalf of the people of Virginia were these: that they might receive full power to extinguish the claims within the Northern neck of all parties except the province and its inhabitants; that the province might not be “cantonized into parcels” by surreptitious grants; that all titles to private estates might be assured; that the governor and council might be residents of the province and have full judicial powers; that, in accordance with all past usage, no tax or imposition

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should be levied on the people of Virginia except by its grand assembly.¹ These proposals, after receiving the approval of the law officers of the crown and the lords of trade, were embodied in an order of council that a charter should be drawn, October 19, 1675. But already the news had arrived of Bacon’s rebellion in Virginia, and that brought proceedings of this nature to a standstill. In September, 1676, almost a year later, the king ordered to be passed under the great seal a bill to serve as a charter, but it was brief and non-committal.² It amounted simply to a confirmation of tenure of lands, of the high judicial powers already exercised by the governor and council, and of dependence on the crown. The contrast between the spirit and work of Moryson and his colleagues and that of the agents whom Massachusetts was sending to England is great. The former were received with confidence, they plead for objects which were possible, and they secured a hearing. Had it not been for untoward events in the province, they would have won a triumph. Their work illustrates the operation of an agency under normal relations; that of the Massachusetts agents, because of distrust on both sides, ended in failure. The experience of the agents from Virginia had already proven the usefulness of the colonial agency as an institution, and as colonial administration became systematized it was more fully developed and utilized. Though their effort to procure a charter failed, they helped to save the territorial integrity of Virginia, and it was never again imperilled.

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Another subject which occasioned much anxiety in Virginia during the period of the Restoration was that of coast defence. It was closely connected with the interests of trade, as well as with the internal peace and prosperity of the province. Adequate provision for this need was made especially difficult by the number and breadth of the rivers, and by the accessibility of the bay as well. The very contour of the coast, though it was favorable for traffic, exposed the province also to the descents of an enemy. The entrance to the James river is a broad estuary, which the small ordnance then available in the colonies—or elsewhere in fact—was quite too weak to protect. Material for building forts of any strength was not available near its mouth, and could be transported thither only with considerable expense. Proper site also for a fort there was none. Of these facts the officials of the colony had long been aware, though from an early time efforts had been made to keep up a small fort at Point Comfort. In 1630 Captain Samuel Mathews undertook the building of a fort there, and a committee was appointed by the assembly, to view the ground. Ten years later the structure had to be rebuilt.¹ Governor Berkeley reported, years after, that, when he came into the country, he found “one only ruinated fort, with eight great guns, most unserviceable, and all dismounted but four, situated in a most unhealthy place, and where, if our enemy knew the soundings, he could keep out of the danger of the best guns in Europe.”²

When the Dutch war began, in 1665, royal orders were sent to Virginia to provide for defence, and the assembly authorized the building of a fort, appropriating 80,000 pounds of tobacco for the purpose and empowering the governor to select a site. Jamestown was chosen and a fort was there begun, on which it was intended to mount the fourteen guns which were then in the province. There, it was said, sufficient men could be procured for a garrison, ships could lie safely under its protection, and timely warning could be given of the approach of an enemy. But the merchants from Bristol procured from the king an order

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that Point Comfort should be fortified. Thirty small cannon were sent over, but most of these were lost in the ship that brought them; and beyond that no assistance was given by the home government. “But the reversing our first Councills,” wrote Secretary Ludwell, “and rendering our preparations and first Charges for a ffort at James Towne uselesse by his Majesties second Commands doth very much trouble ye minds of ye people because they find their hopes of a ffort at James Towne frustrated and much of their money paid in vaine, a thing they seldom parte with willingly, how just or necessary soever ye occasion bee.” So utterly defenceless was the province that every Dutch privateer which arrived threw the people into an agony of fear. Ludwell therefore begged that one or two frigates might be stationed there, and that, in deciding upon such matters of policy as the locating of forts, greater weight might be given in England to the opinions of the colonial authorities.¹

But the Virginia government continued its efforts to obey the king’s commands. “Wee have ordred,” wrote Ludwell to Clarendon in February, 1667,² “a fleet, of boates and shallops mannd and armed to be reddy in every river of this colony to oppose such attempts when they shal bee made; but for the fort att the mouth of James River, wee having struggled with many difficulties, looseing several men & much materialls by stormes which broke our rafts in floting the timber to the place, which admitts of noe other way of fortifycation, being a loose sandy foundation. Wee are allmost in despair of perfecting it in that place, which would have been done with more ease att James towne and more effectuall. Wee have been allreddy att seaventy thousand pounds of tobacco charge to effect it at Poynt Comfort, and much of it yett undone.”

When, therefore, the Dutch first appeared in force, in 1667, the merchant vessels which were anchored in the river fell an easy prey. The losses then suffered kept many of

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the merchants away the following winter. This reduced the demand for tobacco and confirmed the colonies in the policy of cessation from planting of that staple which they had already adopted for 1667. But this was a radical measure, which showed that the industrial system of the provinces concerned was in an unnatural state. A spirit of uncertainty, with accompanying losses, prevailed, the effects of which were not soon to be forgotten.¹ The controversy over the question of locating a fort at Point Comfort was revived, the governor, Secretary Ludwell, and the members of the council reiterating their belief that such a course would be futile, and the merchants, especially those from Bristol, insisting that the mouth of the river should be the site of the chief fort. That the judgment of the Virginia officials was correct is now evident; and it was in agreement with the experience of the Dutch at Manhattan² and of others at similar points on the coast. The assembly was aroused to pass, in September, 1667, a comprehensive act for the building of one fort on each of the rivers of the province, the Nansemond, the James, the York, the Rappahannock, and the Potomac, the one on the James to be located at Jamestown,³ though the localities chosen on the other rivers were much nearer their mouths. In the preamble of this act the assembly added its testimony to the expressions of opinion which had already come from the officials of the province, that “to build a fort at Point Comfort would produce little to the ends proposed, because seated in a place where is almost an equal difficulty of procuring materials to erect it and of men to guard it and defend it when built, besides a ship or ships coming in with a ffaire wind and tide . . ., with the hazard of one or two shotts have as much liberty to prey upon ships or country as if there was noe fort there, . . .” The cost of building the five forts was imposed on the counties which were located in their neighborhood. When, in 1670, Berkeley made his report to the king, these forts were still in existence, but, said the governor, “God knows we have neither skill or ability to make or

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maintain them; for there is not, nor, as far as my enquiry can reach, ever was one ingenier in the country, so that we are at continual charge to repair unskilful and inartificial building of that nature. There is not above thirty great and serviceable guns; this we yearly supply with powder and shot as far as our utmost abilities will permit us.” The merchants contributed nothing toward defence except the payment of port duties, which in 1667 amounted to about £300¹ per year—altogether inadequate to the maintenance of the forts. The cost fell chiefly on the province, and still the result, as shown by the second disaster in 1672, was without practical value. The governor and council then wrote that the cost of such a fort as would even approximately serve the purpose at Point Comfort would be £15,000 sterling. It must be furnished with forty or fifty demi-cannon or culverin. But the revenue of Virginia, they continued, amounted to only £2200 sterling per year, of which the governor received £1200, the councillors £200 and the rest was expended for necessary purposes. The existing port duties were not sufficient to pay the gunner, furnish powder, and keep up repairs. The province could not bear the cost, and even if the king should build it, they could not support the garrison without levying duties on those who traded to and from Virginia to pay it. Still, however, the merchants kept up the clamor for a fort at Point Comfort; and in 1673 soundings were made there by a joint committee consisting of captains and of one man from the province, the former apparently hoping to show that the channel at the Point was so shallow that men of war could not approach near enough to harm vessels which lay near the shore. But the inquiry did not convince the provincial authorities, for, at the same time the contractors for repairing and extending the fort at Jamestown were being ordered to proceed with their work.² It thus appears that the Virginia government was ineffectually trying, as other colonial governments were doing, to provide for river and harbor

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defence. Revenue was being spent, but no desirable result followed. Under the conditions and with the methods which then existed, the problem was insoluble. The issue, however, was one well fitted to be raised when the general policy of the Berkeley régime was assailed, and the question, what was being done with the public funds, came to be urged with emphasis.¹

As early as 1674 the upper counties began to show restiveness on this and other subjects. A reference to an attempted uprising there in that year has been preserved, but of its details² we know nothing. We only know that complaint was made of the justices’ levies, of the large grants made to the governor and council, and of the cost occasioned by sessions of the assemblies. A proclamation from the governor, supported by the influence of “some discreet persons,” proved sufficient to quiet the disturbance at that time. In April, 1676, Berkeley wrote to Ludwell that the previous year he had quieted two mutinies which had been raised by “some secret villains,” who had reported that nothing was intended by the £50 levy but the enriching of some few people. Though it had since been paid without protest, he feared the effect of any increased taxation.³

But the social and political conditions in Virginia would probably not of themselves have caused the insurrection of 1676. The spark was ignited by an Indian war, and by the suffering among the frontier settlements which it occasioned. The policy of Virginia toward the Indians did not materially differ from that which was followed by the other colonies. After the plans which both company and planters had held concerning the possibility of civilizing the natives had been shattered by the massacre of 1622, severe and prohibitive measures concerning trade and intercourse with them were adopted. Though these were at times relaxed, the people

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of Virginia never returned to the free and unregulated intercourse with the Indians which had existed in the earlier days. Only a few references appear during the remainder of the century to the desirability or possibility of attempting to civilize the natives.

At times, when the Indians were restive and wars seemed approaching, trade with them was partially or wholly suspended. This was done in 1624, 1632, and 1643. In 1624 all houses were ordered to be palisaded as a means of defence against them, and the colonists were commanded to carry arms with them as they went into the fields to work.¹ This provision was also embodied in a law of 1632, while at that date the settlers, except on the Eastern Shore, were forbidden to parley with the Indians.² In all parts of the province they were forbidden to enter the villages of the Indians. By acts passed between 1655 and 1665 the entertaining of Indians without license of justices of the county court was forbidden.³ They were not to come within fenced plantations without a ticket or badge. The customary prohibition of the sale of arms and ammunition to them appear until 1659. Then it was enacted that, inasmuch as the neighboring colonies, both English and Dutch, supplied them freely and by this means drew away the beaver trade, Virginians should be permitted to trade freely with the natives in arms, powder, and shot. Not until the beginning of the Indian war in 1676 was the former prohibition renewed. Although in 1662 the system of regulating the Indian trade by licenses granted, by the governor was permanently established, it is not probable that traffic in arms was stopped. Berkeley became deeply interested in the Indian trade, and it cannot be doubted that licenses were liberally granted whenever they seemed likely to result in gain to⁴ the governor and his official friends.

In Virginia, as elsewhere, legislation concerning the Indians after about the middle of the century became more comprehensive, and features of the protectorate appear. In

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Virginia this tendency appeared after the war of 1644 and the death of Opechancanough. In 1646 a treaty was made: with Necotowance,¹ his successor, in which the natives agreed to withdraw entirely from the land between the York and James rivers, the Falls, and Kicoughtan, and: settle north of the York river; they also acknowledged the supremacy of the king of England and promised him tribute; the bounds of the Indians’ hunting grounds were specified, and intercourse between them and the English was carefully regulated. In 1653 the assembly provided for the assignment by the local authorities on York river and in Gloucester and Lancaster counties of land for permanent occupation by certain Indians. By an act of 1656² it was declared that the Indians should not alienate any of the lands which they possessed under orders of the assembly. In future such bargains and sales, to be valid, must have the assent of the assembly. By another act, passed later in the same year,³ the English undertook to investigate and settle disputes between Indians and the whites, and to mete out the penalty which the former should suffer for trespass and other more serious offences. In 1658 the Indians resident within the province were by law permitted to retain the lands on which they were seated, in the proportion of fifty acres for each warrior, and the land belonging to each Indian town was to be surveyed and laid out for them, with liberty of waste and unfenced land for hunting.⁴ Those who in the future needed to remove to vacant lands, should be assisted in doing so. No one should settle on land claimed by them, without permission from the governor and council or justices of the peace. Indians, on the other hand, should not sell those lands except in the quarter courts. Within the next two or three years the principle of this law was applied in. Accomac and in a number of the counties on the west side⁵ of the bay. But owing to failures in administration, to violent and fraudulent intrusion of whites upon the lands of the Indians, and

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to reprisals, it became necessary in 1662 to reaffirm the principles of the law, and to give the governor authority to appoint commissioners to annually view and fix the boundaries of Indian lands. Purchase and sale of their lands¹ was forbidden. Shortly after the legislature went so far as to forbid the tribes of the province to select their chiefs and to provide that they should be appointed by the governor. If the natives should refuse to acknowledge such appointees, they should be proceeded against as rebels. It thus appears that Virginia by 1675 had committed herself to the policy of forming Indian reservations, and that the government had assumed the right to thoroughly regulate the relations between natives and the whites throughout the settled parts of the province. Had the Indians of Virginia been left undisturbed by outsiders, the statement made by Governor Berkeley in 1671, “The Indians, our neighbours, are absolutely subjected, so that there is no fear of them,” might have proved true.²

The long period of peace between the Indians of Virginia and the whites was broken in the summer of 1675 by the murder of one of the settlers of Stafford county³ by a band of the Algonkin tribe of Indians known as Doegs, who lived partly or wholly in Maryland. The militia of the county was at once called out under Colonel Mason and Captain Brent, and the Indians were pursued with some slaughter up the river and into Maryland. There a few Susquehannas, who as a tribe by pressure from the Iroquois were being forced southward toward the Potomac, were slain. Outrages by the Indians then followed on both sides of the river, in the course of which some of the Susquehannas took possession of an old fort in Maryland near the frontier. This led, in the autumn of 1675, to a joint expedition from Maryland and Virginia, the troops of the former under Major

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Thomas Truman¹ and those of the latter under Colonel John Washington. They besieged the fort. At the beginning of the siege or perhaps even before, five Susquehanna chiefs came out of the fort to parley, and, when they were charged with having been concerned in the recent outrages, denied it all, and said the mischief had been done by the Senecas. After the improbability of this, as it was claimed, had been shown to them, they were taken away by the Maryland commander and put to death. For this gross violation of good faith he was later impeached by the Maryland assembly, but escaped with a light punishment.

The slaughter of the Susquehanna chiefs was soon followed by a war of revenge in which the injured tribe and its allies, early in January 1676, carried destruction through the settlements of the Northern neck. The aged governor, with the advice of the council, ordered out a competent force of horse and foot under Sir Henry Chicheley; but when they were ready to march, he changed his mind and caused the men to be disbanded. All that the governor could be brought to think of was the construction of a chain of small forts along the border. Though this work was undertaken, its uselessness was clearly seen from the outset. After the outrages had continued for several weeks longer and the Indians had penetrated to the upper and middle course of the James river, Berkeley replied to the appeals for help that nothing could be done until the regular meeting of the assembly in March. In view of this apathy it is not strange that the sufferers became almost frenzied, and that an old charge was revived and urged with redoubled earnestness, that Berkeley was sparing the Indians for the sake of their trade.

When, in March, 1676, the Long Assembly met for the last time,² nearly 300 persons had perished at the hands of the natives. It declared war against the Indians and ordered the impressment of five hundred men. But no effective use was made of this force, for it was assigned to garrison duty in the forts to the building of which Berkeley was so fully committed.

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This convinced many of the sufferers in the upper counties that no effective measures were to be taken for their protection, and therefore they began to devise means for local self-defence.

Charles City county was the first to beat up volunteers, using the prime necessity for self-defence, for the protection of the lives and property of its inhabitants, as a justification. The people of this county, and others who followed their example, expressly disclaimed any rebellious or treasonable intent. Grievances they had, which had their origin in what was believed to be the long-continued misgovernment of the province. But these they now put aside, and as one party said, devoted their persons and fortunes freely to the redemption of their country, and became both the actors and the paymasters in this necessary defensive war. They regarded their conduct also as peculiarly adapted to the conditions of the frontier and to the methods of Indian warfare. Under such conditions local and personal initiative were most in demand.¹ Though it would be unreasonable to suppose that all those who now flocked to arms were moved by a reasoned view of the situation, it is clear that the time had come when the people must assume responsibility for their own defence. In its earliest phase, this uprising was not a rebellion at all, but a necessary measure of self-defence.

When the men of Charles City county and their neighbors looked about for a leader, they found him in the person of young Nathaniel Bacon, a man whose passions had been aroused by the suffering which he saw around him. About fourteen months before the beginning of the Indian war, Bacon, accompanied by his young wife, who was of the Suffolk gentry, had removed to Virginia. His ancestors were kinsmen of Lord Bacon. His father’s cousin, Nathaniel Bacon, of Kings Creek, in York county, had been a resident in the province for about fifteen years. The elder Bacon was a member of the council and a man of wealth and

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influence.¹ The younger Bacon bought two estates on the James river, one at Curl’s wharf and the other above at the Falls. The position which he was expected to take in Virginia is indicated by the fact that he was almost immediately appointed a member of the council.

Bacon had studied law and had travelled on the continent of Europe. By nature he was intense and passionate, quick to resent injury and wrong. The royal commissioners, influenced, it must be believed, largely by unfavorable representations, described him as a man of “an ominous, pensive,² melancholy Aspect, of a pestilent and prevalent Logical discourse tending to atheisme, in most companyes not given to much talke, or to make suddain replyes, of a most imperious and dangerous hidden Pride of heart, dispising the wisest of his neighbors for their Ignorance, and very ambitious and arrogant.” This implies that Bacon was not an admirer of Berkeley and that from the first he found much in the political and social system of Virginia to criticise. He did not fit easily into the routine of official life. His arrival added an element of unrest to the many which, from a variety of causes, were accumulating in Virginia. The Scotchman, William Drummond, who had been governor of Albemarle, and Richard Lawrence, an Oxford graduate, both of whom were prominent residents of Jamestown, sympathized with the attitude which Bacon was inclined to assume, though this as yet by no means implied rebellion.³

When Bacon witnessed the destruction that was being wrought on the frontier, and had lost a servant on one of his plantations, and when he saw the distracted people crowding toward the interior plantations, his ardent sympathies were fully aroused. He felt also that his position as councillor imposed upon him the obligation to do what he could for the protection of his neighbors. “I sent,” he writes,⁴ “to ye

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Govern^r for a commission to fall upon y^m but being from time to time denied, and finding yt ye country was basely for a small and sordid gaine betraid, & ye lives and fortunes of ye poor inhabitants wretchedly sacrificed, resolved to stand up in this ruinous gap & rath^r expose my life and fortune to all hazards, than basely desert my post. . . .” Bacon was therefore as ready to lead the frontiersmen, from Charles City county and above, as they were to have him.¹ He soon found himself at the head of a force which was said to number about three hundred.² With these, as the Susquehannas were in close relations with the Occaneechees, who lived on the Roanoke river and sold them ammunition, Bacon marched southward a hundred miles or more, till he met a body of the enemy and inflicted upon them a severe defeat.³

Governor Berkeley, in the meantime, issued a series of proclamations in condemnation of Bacon’s enterprise and accompanied with commands for him to return. In the first of these the governor promised him pardon; but because that offer was ignored, or not received, in the second Berkeley denounced him as a rebel and declared him suspended from the council, from his office as justice of the peace, and from all power civil and military.⁴ But as he advanced with a troop of horse up the courses of the York and James, with a view to Bacon’s arrest, the governor found the spirit of opposition so strong that it was necessary to dissolve the Long Assembly and order a new election. By this act the crust of official privilege which for sixteen years had been forming in Virginia was broken through, and a brief opportunity was given for the expression

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of opinions which were not shared by the official circle. The law, however, still required that the new assembly should be elected by householders and freeholders.

Berkeley, in connection with the issue of the call for the new assembly, published a third declaration¹ explaining why he was justified in proceeding against Bacon as a rebel and traitor. Bacon, he said, had taken up arms without authority from the government and notwithstanding its prohibitions; and though he had done it in the service of the king and from patriotic motives, such an act was treason. Such, he said, was the law of England, and any peer who should commit the offence would suffer for it. Such an act, he continued, was certain in the end to be ruinous to both government and people. “The swearing² of men to live and die together is treason by the very words of the law.” He challenged Bacon to show a single case where such proceedings had been approved, but on the other hand a hundred examples could be cited of great and brave men who had been put to death for gaining victories against the command of their superiors. Bacon, on the other hand, affirmed his innocence of treasonable intent and his willingness to have served under the governor, if the latter had taken the command.³ Inasmuch as the actual encounter with the enemy had occurred after Bacon had received the order to return, something might be said in support of the governor’s contention. But Bacon’s offence certainly did not come under the law of treason and under the circumstances did not involve rebellion, though it might possibly have been described by the old term, “accroaching royal power.” Berkeley declared that he was waiting to ascertain who the hostile Indians actually were, so as not to strike the settlements of friends. But in view of the fact that nearly ten months had passed since the raids began, this statement was absurd. It was a time when, if ever, the rights of humanity should triumph over the formal legal claims of a governor grown

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despotic with age and with the adulation which he had long received from a coterie of officials. Had Schuyler at Albany or Pynchon at Springfield taken the initiative under such conditions, and that too without waiting ten months for action, we can scarcely imagine that it would have been met with the charge of treason.

The popularity of Bacon in the upper settlements was sufficient to insure his election to the assembly from Henrico, for which the way had been opened by his suspension from the council.¹ Owing to fears for his safety when he should reach Jamestown, an armed force of thirty to fifty men accompanied him to the capital. This gave to his demonstration a more serious aspect, indicating, as it did, an intention to overawe the assembly. Therefore, as his sloop approached Jamestown, it was fired upon. Bacon, however, landed and had an interview with Drummond and Lawrence. Finding apparently that he could not with safety attend the assembly, he attempted to return up the river. Then, under order from Berkeley, he was pursued by Captain Thomas Gardner in the ship Adam and Eve, which was lying at Jamestown, and captured.²

When Bacon was brought before the governor, he was immediately released on parole. He took up his abode at the house of Lawrence, who kept an ordinary, and with whose cooperation he was doubtless acting. His relative, the councillor Bacon, perhaps as the result of an understanding with the governor, now interposed and with difficulty prevailed upon his high-spirited nephew to read an acknowledgment of his offence and a request for pardon.³ The paper being drawn for him, Bacon consented, and the next day the ceremony was duly performed before the governor and in the presence of the two houses of the legislature. The acknowledgment closed with a solemn promise that,

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upon the grant of pardon, Bacon would always bear true faith and allegiance to the king and conduct himself dutifully and peaceably toward the government of Virginia. The governor thereupon declared that he forgave him, and Bacon, with his associates, was released. Bacon himself was soon found sitting with the council, the supposition being that Berkeley desired by all means to keep him out of the assembly.

Though the evidence is clear¹ that the two houses of the new general assembly sat apart, the governor and council were naturally anxious to so control the proceedings of the burgesses as to prevent the passage of reform measures. The burgesses were desired to confine their attention to Indian affairs and defence. But some of the members at once a dressed themselves to the work of reform, and a committee had been partly named to inspect revenues, accounts, and Indian affairs. One of the governor’s friends in the house then moved that he be asked to permit two of the councillors to sit with and assist them in debates, as had been usual. The member from Stafford objected to giving the council any trouble until the house itself had formulated its views. At this there was an uproar, the friends of Berkeley urging that the presence of councillors had been customary and ought not to be omitted. An old member, named Presly, then arose and said, “’Tis true, it has been customary, but if we have any bad customs amongst us, we are come here to mend ’em.” This occasioned a general laugh. But the original proposal was carried, and the custom of admitting the councillors was followed as of old.

The character and amount of the legislation which was passed shows that the majority of the assembly trusted Bacon as an Indian fighter and was resolved to check some of the oligarchic tendencies in the government. An elaborate act for the prosecution of war against the Indians was passed, and Bacon was designated in it as the commander-in-chief of the force to be raised. They were to number one thousand men. The assembly readmitted freemen to the full right of

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suffrage by repealing the act of 1670, making special provision also against the issue of false election returns. It provided for the periodical election of vestrymen by the freeholders and freemen of the parishes. It enacted that representatives of the people should coöperate with the justices in levying taxes and making by-laws for the counties. It repealed the act exempting councillors and ministers from taxation, and enacted instead that the salaries of the councillors should be increased and that only clergymen in person, and not the members of their families, should be exempt from the levies. It provided that the county courts should appoint the collectors of county levies, and that no councillor should sit or vote with the county justices. A period of time was fixed within which the sheriffs must collect the public dues. Acts were also passed against the taking of illegal fees and the unlawful extension of terms of office. There is, however, no evidence to prove that Bacon was the leader in the passage of these measures. His name is not prominently mentioned in connection with them by any of the chroniclers of events, though most of the writers were in sympathy with the efforts that were making to break the power of the official oligarchy. Among the grievances which were later submitted by Gloucester county occurs the significant statement, that “many good Lawes were consented to by that Assembly [of June, 1676] before the Rebell Bacon came and interrupted the same.”¹

Before the work of the assembly was done, Bacon seems to have been seized with a fear that Berkeley after all intended his ruin. He came not unnaturally to the belief that the governor’s reconciliation with him was not genuine, but only a pretence, in order that he might the more effectually entrap him.² This may have been a true interpretation of Berkeley’s conduct. At any rate, Bacon seems to have been confirmed in his belief of it by the fact that, after he had been made general of the forces by act of assembly, the governor still withheld his commission. Bacon saw through the plot, if there

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was any, and, on the plea that he must visit his sick wife, left Jamestown and proceeded up the river. There among his supporters he quickly raised a force of about five hundred men¹ and marched back to the capital, with the purpose of securing a commission which would make him commander of all the troops of the province against the Indians. This proved to be a turning point in the progress of affairs and events now rapidly drifted toward rebellion. Bacon becomes clearly the leader of a movement which is directed against the governor and his supporters throughout the province.

Jamestown, as usual, was found defenceless.² Bacon entered the town and drew up his men near the building where the legislature was sitting. The burgesses flocked to the windows, while the inhabitants had been brought together by the alarm, to see what was going to happen. The governor, in his helplessness, could only follow a policy of delay. He first sent certain councillors to learn Bacon’s demands. Bacon insisted upon the commission. The one that was first brought him was not sufficiently broad in its terms; it only gave him authority to lead the volunteer forces of the province against the Indians, while he desired the command of all the forces for the war. The governor then went out to meet the insurgent leader in person, and, according to one account, struck a melodramatic pose and dared Bacon to shoot him on the spot. According to other accounts he proposed that himself and Bacon should settle the question by compromise. Both of these offers were declined. After the governor had retired, Bacon in a fit of real or assumed passion, it is hard to tell which, threatened³ to fire on the legislature. His object in this seems to have been to bring the burgesses to his assistance in a joint move for the purpose of compelling the governor to grant the commission in the desired form. It was at any rate successful, and though the assembly declared its own inability to

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issue the document, its influence was used to compel the governor to submit. Not only was power satisfactory in extent bestowed on Bacon, but blank commissions for officers were given to him to be filled out and issued by himself at discretion.¹ The assembly then passed² an act of pardon for all crimes which had been committed between March 1 and June 25, except violations of the law against trading with the Indians. A report was also sent to the king, approving Bacon’s conduct. The extent of Berkeley’s humiliation is indicated by the fact that he signed it, along with the officers of the assembly. At the same time, however, accounts by Berkeley himself and other members of his party were also despatched, giving their view of the case. On report of further outrages by the natives, the assembly was now dissolved, and Bacon with an augmented force marched to the Falls of the James to prepare for his second expedition against the Indians.

But now that the reforming assembly had been dissolved and Bacon with his men was likely to be occupied with the Indians, Berkeley resolved, if possible, to raise the lower parts of the province against him. With this and the counter moves which it occasioned, the event resolves itself clearly into a struggle between the government and a rebellious faction. Bacon and his men still did some fighting against the Indians. In this they were successful, and punished the clans on the York and Chickahominy rivers with severity.³ The Indian war soon abated, and interest then centred exclusively in the struggle between the governor and Bacon.

As soon as Bacon had withdrawn from Jamestown, in July, 1676, Berkeley again proclaimed him a rebel, and attempted to call out the militia of Gloucester and Middlesex counties against him. But he found that he had been mistaken in counting upon their loyalty, for they refused to serve against him who was defending the province against

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the savages. If, however, after the Indian war was over, Bacon should attempt anything against the governor’s office or person, they declared that they would come to the support of the legal authorities.¹ Bitterly disappointed by this reception in one of the richest and most populous districts, Berkeley, after launching another proclamation against Bacon, with such arms and ammunition as he could collect retired across the bay to Accomac.

The ambiguous position in which Bacon was placed by the governor’s opposition to his self-assumed leadership in the Indian war is reflected in the steps which he took at the Falls. Before setting out thence to find the Indians he and his soldiers took the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, intending thereby to prove their loyalty to the king. But at the same time Bacon required his soldiers to swear to him an oath of fidelity, that they would reveal any plot or intention of harm against him as their commander. The object of this was to hold the men together against any attack by the governor and his party.²

No sooner had these steps been taken than news came of the attempt of Berkeley to raise Gloucester county and his renewed proclamation of Bacon as a traitor. Bacon, after a spirited address³ to his men, led them thither. But finding the governor already departed for Accomac, Bacon went to Middle Plantation, afterwards Williamsburg, where he issued an eloquent defence of his cause, and an arraignment of the governor and council under the title of “The Declaration of the People.”⁴

In this document Bacon vented his dislike of the official clique in the following vigorous language: “Wee appeale to the Country itselfe what and of what nature their Oppressions have bin or by what Caball and mistery the designee of many of those whom wee call great men have bin transacted and caryed on, but let us trace these men in Authority

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and Favour to whose hands the dispensation of the Countries wealth has been comitted; let us observe the sudden Rise of their Estates compared with the Quality in which they first entered this Country Or the Reputation they have held amongst wise and discerning men, And lett us see wither their extractions and Education have not bin vile, And by what pretence of learning and vertue they could soe soon [rise] into Imployments of so great Trust and consequence, let us consider their sudden advancement and let us also consider wither any Publick work for our safety and defence or for the Advancment and propogation of Trade, liberall Arts or sciences is here Extant in any [way] adequate to our vast chardg, now let us compare these things togither and see what Spounges have suckt up the Publique Treasure and wither it hath not bin privately contrived away by unworthy Favourites and juggling Parasites whose tottering Fortunes have bin repaired and supported at the Publique chardg, now if it be so Judg what greater giult can bee then to offer to pry into these and to unriddle the misterious wiles of a powerful Cabal let all people Judge what can be of more dangerous Import than to suspect the soe long Safe proceedings of Some of our Grandees and wither People may with safety open their Eyes in soe nice a Concern.”

In a latter part of the manifesto the complaints which had long been urged, though to an extent falsely, against Berkeley’s government were stated in a formal series of charges. It was declared that he had levied unjust taxes in pretence of carrying out public works, and spent the revenue thus obtained upon favorites and for “other sinister ends.” He had not improved the means of defence, the towns; or the trade of the colony. He had brought the courts of justice into disrepute by promoting scandalous and ignorant favorites to the magistracy. By monopolizing the beaver trade he had wronged the king and betrayed or sold the lives of many loyal subjects to the Indians. The favoritism he had shown toward the Indians since the beginning of the war had been unwarranted and had brought upon the people of the colony the most terrible sufferings. Finally,

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Bacon condemned the governor’s conduct toward himself and his followers, called him and nearly all the members of his council to account therefor, and declared them traitors to king and country, to be proceeded against by all loyal people and, if possible, captured.

In connection with the issue of this “Declaration,” Bacon, in August, called a convention of the gentlemen and inhabitants of Virginia to meet at Middle Plantation. To this body, which was numerously attended, he submitted a form of oath¹ that he desired to have taken by all his supporters. It was distinct from the oath which he had already administered to his soldiers, and was specially intended for his political allies. It contained not only a promise to assist Bacon, but an acknowledgment that all his acts had been legal, while the conduct of the governor and council had been illegal and ruinous to the country. But the clause which staggered those who were asked to take the oath was one which contained a promise to oppose any forces that might be sent from England until such time as Bacon might have acquainted the king with the state of the province and have received an answer. This involved the possibility of a direct breach of the oath of allegiance, and brought the thought of the penalties of treason home to the minds of many. Strong opposition was made in the convention to this clause of the oath, and we are told that all of Bacon’s appeals that it should be included proved vain until news came that Berkeley, on his way to Accomac, had dismantled York fort to secure arms for his vessel, and had thus left the coast defenceless. Bacon, then consenting to a proviso, that no subscriber should be bound by anything which was inconsistent with his allegiance, the oath was taken and the entire declaration was ratified. They were then sent to the counties to be accepted as a sort of provincial covenant, but it is said that the oath as there administered by the justices of the peace did not contain the proviso upon which those who were in attendance on the convention had insisted. The lengths to which Bacon was now prepared to go are

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further shown by the fact that he issued a call for an assembly, which was also signed by four of the council.

Owing to the fact that Virginia was a royal province, the uprising now began to assume some of the features of a colonial revolt. Not only was Bacon taking the offensive against the governor, but he seemed ready to risk an encounter with royal forces, should they be sent to Virginia for the support of the government. A conversation between Bacon and one John Good has been reported which, whether or not it ever occurred in the form that has been transmitted, sets forth ideas which may well have been floating at that time in the fertile mind of the insurgent leader. Bacon is represented as being aware of the possibility that the king might send two thousand redcoats against him; but he was confident that with their superior knowledge of the country and of the methods of warfare which were adapted to it, two hundred Virginians might beat them. The suggestion was made that the Virginians might be left helpless if they were cut off from English supplies, and that under this pressure and that which they would suffer from the ravages of a body of royal troops, they might hasten to make their peace with the king. In reply to this Bacon expressed confidence that France and the Dutch would open trade with them, while Maryland and Carolina would renounce their governors and join in the common revolt of the Southern provinces. “Why,” said Bacon smiling, “have not many princes lost their dominions so?” “The governors of Carolina,” he continued, “have taken no notice of the people, nor the people of them, a long time, and the people are resolved to own their governor no further.” We are already aware of the sympathetic movement which was beginning in Maryland, while Good, the reporter of this conversation, states that after hearing Bacon’s utterances about Carolina, he understood why the name of that province had been made the watch-word for his troops.

Bacon was already fascinated by the dream of colonial revolt, and its indefinite possibilities. The plans which were to take shape a century later were already floating dimly before his mind. With the ideas and projects of that time

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he was even now, though prematurely, familiar. He professed to be ready to try the experiment and, if it should fail, to take refuge with his followers on some inaccessible island or in some recess of the wilderness beyond the reach of king or royal governor. To his mind Berkeley was the real traitor, and he himself the defender of the liberties of Virginians and of the justly ordered constitution of the province. As an illustration of the way in which abuses resulting from the monopolization of power, because they occurred in a royal province, might be followed by an effort to renounce allegiance to the king, Bacon’s rebellion is the most significant event in the history of the colonies prior to 1760.

Though the mainland seemed as good as lost to him, Berkeley by special promises was able to gain a considerable support in Accomac, and while Bacon was engaged in his last operations against the Indians prepared to return to Jamestown. Bacon, as soon as he heard of the operations of the governor, sent a vessel under the command of Bland and Carver to seize the person of the governor and deport him to England, as had been done years before in the case of Harvey.¹ When the vessel arrived on the east shore, Berkeley invited Carver to visit his camp. During his absence Bland’s vessel was seized by a body of the governor’s men, and its commander and all the crew were made prisoners. When Carver returned, he too was taken and put in irons.

The governor now crossed to the mainland, with a force said to number about six hundred men.² But as the event proved, they must have been very poorly armed and a large part of them possibly bent on personal gain. The governor, however, is reported to have exacted from his followers at this time an oath to assist him against all who had

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taken up arms, and later this was effectually used in the suppression of the revolt.¹ Approaching Jamestown, which was in the hands of the Baconists, he summoned it to surrender, promising pardon to all except Lawrence and Drummond. On these terms the governor was readily admitted into the town.

Bacon, meanwhile, after completing the discomfiture of the Indians, had disbanded all except about one hundred and fifty of his men. But with this body, which was soon increased to three hundred, he laid siege to Jamestown. Energy and resolution animated his men, while the governor’s troops were guilty of gross cowardice. In attack as well as defence Berkeley’s measures proved ineffective. Poor management and lack of spirit characterized the doings of his force, till finally, rather than face a general assault, the governor abandoned the town and retired down the river. Bacon entered the place and, hearing that a force under Colonel Brent was marching against him from the north, burned it to the ground.

Bacon then crossed the river into Gloucester county, and prepared to advance against Brent. But before his men were ready he learned that Brent’s force, hearing of the evacuation of Jamestown by Berkeley, had broken camp and returned to their homes. Bacon then administered his oath of fidelity and support to many of the inhabitants of Gloucester county, and prepared to invade Accomac. As he was about to set out upon this enterprise he suddenly sickened and died—October 18, 1676—the victim of privations in the Indian war and before Jamestown.

Whether, if Bacon had lived, he could have held his party together till the complete defeat of the governor had been assured, must always remain uncertain. No estimates have survived of the relative strength of the two factions. The sympathy with Bacon as an Indian fighter was very general. Correspondingly widespread was the dissatisfaction with the management of the government in recent years. A large component of the people seems to have been disposed to

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regard Berkeley’s distress with indifference, if not with joy. It is not improbable that they would have acquiesced in the forcible removal of the governor from the province. But that they would have followed Bacon into direct resistance to the will of the king is far from probable. There is no proof that Bacon really thought it would be necessary to take that step, though, had he survived, it would have been necessary for him to face the charge of treason.

With the removal of the person of the leader, the movement very soon began to collapse. Colonel Ingram assumed command, but he was wholly unable to continue aggressive operations. Bacon, since his return from the Indian campaign, had not been followed by a large force. Now even such of his supporters as were under arms broke up into small bands, which posted themselves at West Point, Green Spring, or Pate’s house. Unity of action among them ceased, and they soon dispersed before the approach of the governor.¹

Now it was that Berkeley’s insane vindictiveness had full rein, and for a time there was no one to oppose. Unlike his contemporaries in England, he ignored even the forms of a civil trial, and by summary process before a council of war hurried his leading opponents in rapid succession to the gallows.² Carver was among the first victims. Lawrence and Drummond, who had been Bacon’s leading advisers, Berkeley was specially eager to seize. The former escaped him. The latter was captured, and when brought before the governor, he was greeted with the exclamation, “Mr. Drummond, you are very welcome; I am more glad to see you than any man in Virginia; you shall be hanged in half an hour.” In all no less than thirty-seven were executed, while others escaped the same fate only by flight.³

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Many more were condemned to heavy fines, banishment, or imprisonment; and some were saved from the gallows only by acknowledging their treason and, on their knees with ropes round their necks, begging the pardon of the governor and council.¹

These acts were confirmed by a royalist assembly which met in February, 1677.² This body also repealed the acts of the assembly of June, 1676, though by its own enactment it forbade pluralities in office-holding, brought to an end the exemption of councillors from taxation, and introduced a representative element into the vestries when they were engaged in the levying of county taxes.³ In the work of suppressing the rebellion Berkeley had especially the assistance of three able and unscrupulous lieutenants, Robert Beverley, Edward Hill, and William Hartwell.⁴