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The Story
of Bacon's Rebellion.

The Story
of
Bacon's Rebellion

By MARY NEWTON STANARD

New York and Washington
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
1907.

Copyright, 1907,
By The Neale Publishing Company.

TO MY HUSBAND
WILLIAM GLOVER STANARD,
MY COMPANION AND GUIDE
IN ALL MY PILGRIMAGES
INTO THAT CHARMED REGION,
VIRGINIA'S PAST.

CONTENTS.

PREFACE.

After the thrilling scenes through which the Colony of Virginia passed during its earliest days, the most portentous, the most dramatic, the most picturesque event of its seventeenth century history was the insurrection known as "Bacon's Rebellion." All writers upon the history of Virginia refer to it, and a few have treated it at some length, but it is only in quite late years that facts unearthed in the English public records have enabled students to reach a proper understanding of the causes and the results of this famous uprising, and given them accurate and detailed information concerning it. The subject has long been one of popular interest, in spite of the imperfect knowledge touching it, and it is believed that a clear and simple presentation of the information now available

will be welcomed by those whose attention has been attracted to a man of most striking personality and to a stirring period of Colonial history.

During the year 1907 thousands of persons from all parts of the world will visit the scenes of Nathaniel Bacon's brief career, will see—while passing on James River—the site of his home at "Curles Neck," will visit Richmond, where "Bacon's Quarter" is still a name, will linger in the historic city of Williamsburg, once the "Middle Plantation," will stand within the ancient tower of the church which the rebels burned at Jamestown, and from, possibly, the very spot where Bacon and Sir William Berkeley had their famous quarrel, will see the foundations of the old State House—but lately excavated—before which the antagonists stood.

While the writer of this monograph has made a careful and thorough study of all records of the period, remaining in England or America, and has earnestly endeavored to give an exact and unbiased account, and while she has made no statement

not based upon original sources, her story is addressed especially to the general reader. She has therefore not burdened her pages with references to the authorities she has used, a list of which will be found in the appendix.

THE STORY OF BACON'S REBELLION—VIRGINIA, 1676.

I.

SIR WILLIAM BERKELEY.

The year 1676 dawned upon troublous scenes in Virginia. Being a time when men were wont to see in every unusual manifestation of Nature the warning shadow cast ahead by some coming event, the colonists darkly reminded each other how the year past had been marked by three "Prodigies." The first of these was "a large comet every evening for a week or more, at southwest, thirty-five degrees high, streaming like a horse's tail westwards, until it reached (almost) the horizon, and setting towards the northwest." The second consisted of "flights of pigeons, in breadth nigh a quarter of the mid-hemisphere, and of their length was no visible

end, whose weight break down the limbs of large trees whereon they rested at nights, of which the fowlers shot abundance and ate 'em," and the third, of "swarms of flies about an inch long, and big as the top of a man's little finger, rising out of spigot holes in the earth, which ate the new sprouted leaves from the tops of the trees, without other harm, and in a month left us."

Looking backward from the practical point of view of our day, and beholding that memorable year under the cold light of fact, it does not seem that any evil omen should have been needed to make clear that a veritable witch's caldron of dangers was brewing in Colonial Virginia, and that some radical change in the administration of the government alone could have prevented it from reaching boiling point.

Sir William Berkeley had served two long terms as Governor, during which his attractive personality and intellectual gifts had brought him wide popularity, and his home, "Green Spring," some four miles from Jamestown, had become famous for

its atmosphere of refinement and good cheer, and as a resort for wandering Cavaliers. He was now—grown old in years and sadly changed in character—serving a third term; reigning, one might almost say. Stern and selfish as he had become, bending his will only to the wishes of the young wife of whom he was childishly fond and who was, by many, blamed for the change in him, he makes an unlovely, but withal a pathetic figure in the history of Virginia.

Every inch a gallant soldier, every inch a gentleman, yet haughty, unsympathetic and unlovable; narrow in mind and in heart; clinging desperately to Old World traditions in a new country eager to form traditions of its own; struggling blindly to train the people under him to a habit of unquestioning obedience and submission to the powers that be, however arbitrary and oppressive those powers might become—a habit which, however deep-rooted it might have been in its native soil, could hardly be expected to bear transplanting to a land so wide and free as America, and so far distant from its parent stem.

To Sir William Berkeley his sovereign was literally "his most sacred Majesty." Whatever that sovereign's human frailties might be, the kingly purple covered them all. His slightest whim was holy; to question his motives or the rightness and wisdom of his commands was little short of blasphemy. Furthermore, as the King's agent and representative in Virginia, Governor Berkeley expected like homage toward himself. In short, he was a bigoted royalist and egotist, believing first in the King and second in himself, or rather, perhaps, first in himself, and then in the King, and the confession of faith which he lived up to with unswerving consistency was the aggrandizement of those already great and the keeping in subjection of those already lowly.

Yet, high-spirited old Cavalier though he was, knowing nothing of personal cowardice nor fearing to match his good sword against any in the land, The People, whom his aristocratic soul despised, inspired him with continual dread.

It most naturally follows that to such a

mind the unpardonable sin was rebellion. No matter what the provocation to rebellion might be, the crime of presuming to resist the King's government was one that could not be justified, and the chief policy of Sir William's administration was to keep the people where they were as little as possible likely to commit it. Recognizing that ideas might become dangerous weapons in their possession, he took pains lest they should develop them, and thanked God that there were no public schools or printing-presses in Virginia. He even discouraged the parsons from preaching for fear that the masses might gain too much of the poison of knowledge through sermons. He declared that "learning had brought disobedience into the world," and his every act showed that he was determined to give it no chance to bring disobedience to the English government or to himself into Virginia.

II.

THE PEOPLE'S GRIEVANCES.

Around the Governor had gathered a ring of favorites, called by the people "grandees," who formed an inner circle which grew daily richer and more important as those outside of its magic bounds sunk into greater obscurity and wretchedness. The result was, under an outward show of unity, two distinct parties, deeply antagonistic in feeling, the one made up of the Governor and the Governor's friends—small in numbers but powerful in wealth and influence—and the other of the people, strong only in numbers and in hatred of their oppressors. The one party making merry upon the fat of that goodly land, the other feeding upon the husks and smarting under a scourge each several lash of which was an intolerable "grievance."

It would be impossible to gain a faithful picture of the time without a knowledge of the nature of some of these grievances. Most of them were summed up in the melancholy and inharmonious cry of "hard times," which made itself heard throughout the broad land—a cry which in whatsoever country or time it be raised invariably gives rise to discontent with the existing government, and, in extreme cases, brings with it a readiness on the part of the distressed ones to catch at any measure, try any experiment that seems to hold out promise of relief. One cause of the poverty of the people of Virginia in 1676 was to be found in the low price of tobacco—the sole money product of the colony—through a long series of years. For this and the consequent suffering the government was, of course, not responsible. Indeed, it sought to find a remedy by attempting to bring about, for a time, a general cessation of tobacco culture in the colonies. A scheme to better the condition of the people by introducing diversified industries was also started, and with this end in view tanneries

were established in each county, and an effort was made to build new towns in several places, but it soon became plain that they could not be maintained. These unhappy attempts became, by increasing the taxes, merely fresh causes of discontent. Yet, while they were blunders, they were well meant, and in accordance with the spirit of the times.

Giving the government all honor due for taking even these misguided steps in behalf of the people, it must be confessed that there were other troubles greatly to its discredit.

The heaviest of these were the long continued Assembly,—while the people clamored, justly, for a new election,—the oppressive taxes, and the Indian troubles.

As early as 1624 the Virginia Assembly had declared that the Governor (for all he was his Majesty's representative) could not levy taxes against the will of the Burgesses, which, since the Burgesses were supposed to represent the people, was as much as to say against the will of the people. Governor Berkeley's Burgesses,

however, did not represent the people. The Assembly chosen in 1862, and composed almost entirely of sympathizers with the Governor, was so much to the old man's mind that, saying that "men were more valuable in any calling, in proportion to their experience," he refused to permit a new election, and the consequence was that in the thirteen years before our story opens, during which this Assembly sat under Sir William's influence, he had brought it up to his hand, as it were, and it had ceased to represent anything but its own and the Governor's interests.

With such a legislature to support him, Sir William could bid defiance to the restrictions upon the Governor's power to lay taxes, and the poor "tithable polls" (all males above sixteen years of age) were called upon to pay the expenses of any measures which were deemed proper in carrying on the government; for the unrighteous taxes were imposed always per capita—never upon property, though by act passed in 1670 only landholders could vote.

It was by this system of poll-tax that the ample salaries of the Burgesses were paid and also that the sundry perquisites attached to the office of a Burgess were provided—such as the maintenance of a manservant and two horses apiece, and fees for clerks to serve committees, and liquors for the committees to drink their own and each other's good health. Doubtless many stately compliments were exchanged when the Burgesses, in an outburst of generosity, were pleased to present the Governor and others of high degree with "great gifts," but the grace and charm of the act were not perceptible to the eyes of the people who, enjoying neither the gifts nor the applause of presenting them, were taxed to pay the piper.

The "poorer sort" complained that they were "in the hardest condition—who having nothing but their labor to maintain themselves, wives and children, pay as deeply to the public as he that hath 20,000 acres." Their complaints were just, but not likely to find a hearing, for the spirit of the age demanded that, in order that the

wealthy might keep up the appearance of wealth and maintain the dignity of their position, those who had no wealth to be retained and no dignity to be maintained must keep the wolf from the door as best they might while the fruits of their daily toil were "engrossed" by their so-called representatives. In the mean time, these representatives, their pockets thus swelled, found public life too comfortable to feel any desire to return to agricultural pursuits, or to be content with the uncertain income afforded by the capricious crop.

But this was not the worst.

While Charles II was yet in exile, some of his courtiers who, for all their boasted sympathy in the sorrows of their "dear sovereign," were not unmindful of their own interests, prayed of his Majesty a grant of the Northern Neck of Virginia, and Charles, forgetful of the loyalty of the little colony beyond the seas which had been faithful to him through all of his troubles, and utterly ignoring the right and title of those then in possession of the coveted lands, yielded them their wish. After

the Restoration this grant was renewed, and in 1672 his Majesty went further still and was pleased to grant away the whole colony, with very few restrictions, to Lords Arlington and Culpeper. Not only were their Lordships to be enriched by the royal quit-rents and escheats, and to enjoy the sole right of granting lands, but through the privilege likewise given them of appointment of sheriffs, surveyors, and other officers, the power of executing the laws and collecting the taxes, and of dividing the colony into counties and parishes and setting boundary lines was to be practically in their hands.

Thus upon the fair bosom of Virginia, already torn and fretted by a host of distresses, was it purposed that these two "Lords Proprietors" should be let loose—their greed for gain to be held in check only by the limitations of the colony's resources—through a dreary waste of thirty-one years.

The colonists, foreseeing that all manner of dishonesty and corruption in public affairs would be the certain and swift

result of such large powers, cast about for a remedy, and at length determined to send a commission to England to raise a voice against the ruinous grant and to bribe the hawks away from their prey. So far so good; but to meet the expenses of the commission the poll-tax was greatly increased, so that while the landholders were to be relieved by having their rights restored, the "poorer sort" were made poorer than ever by being required to pay sixty pounds of tobacco per head for that relief. This unjust tax was a crowning point to all that the people had suffered, and a suppressed groan, like the threatenings of a distant but surely and steadily approaching storm, arose, not in one settlement, not in one county, but from one end of Virginia to another, even to the remotest borders of the colony.

While this black enough tempest was brewing about the path of the Governor and the "grandees," another and a still darker cloud suddenly arose in an unexpected quarter and burst with frightful fury upon the heads of the unhappy people,

the chiefest among whose "grievances" now became their daily and hourly terror of the Indians, made worse by the fact that their Governor was deaf to all their cries for protection.

Indeed, the savages, not the colonists, were the protected ones, for the gain from the Indian beaver and otter fur trade, which the Governor and his friends monopolized, was believed to be a stronger argument with Sir William Berkeley for keeping in league with the red men than the massacre of the King's subjects was for making war upon them. The helpless people could only shake their heads despairingly and whisper under their breath, "Bullets cannot pierce beaver skins."

In a "Complaint from Heaven, with a Huy and Crye and a Petition out of Virginia and Maryland. To Owr great Gratious Kinge and souveraigne Charles ye ii King of Engel'd etc. with his parliament," it is charged that "Old Governr. Barkly, altered by marrying a young Wyff, from his wonted publicq good, to a covetous Fole-age, relished Indians presents with

some that hath a like feelinge, so wel, that many Christians Blood is Pokketed up wth other mischievs, in so mutch that his lady tould, that it would bee the overthrow of ye Country."

The most ghastly accounts of the sly and savage incursions of the Indians, and of the way in which they served their victims, such as flaying them alive, knocking out their teeth with clubs and tearing out their finger-nails and toe-nails, flew from lip to lip. The terror-stricken planters upon the frontiers and more exposed places deserted their homes, left the crops upon which they depended for existence to waste and ruin, and huddled together in the more sheltered places, still not knowing "upon whom the storm would light."

Truly was the colony under the "greatest distractions" it had known since the frightful Indian massacre of the year 1622.

In such a state of horror and demoralization, and remembering all that those of earlier times had suffered, no wonder the colonists did not question whether the natives had any rights to be considered,

and came to scarcely regard them as human beings, or that the sentiment "the only good Indian is a dead Indian" should have prevailed. Indeed, the one chance for the divine law of the survival of the fittest to be carried out in Virginia seemed to be in the prompt and total extermination of the red race.

III.

THE REIGN OF TERROR.

The beginning of serious war with the Indians happened in this wise. One Sunday morning in the summer of 1675, as some of the settlers of Stafford County took their way peacefully to church, with no thought of immediate danger in their minds, they were greeted, as they passed the house of one Robert Hen, a herdsman, by the ghastly spectacle of the bloodstained bodies of Hen himself, and an Indian, lying across Hen's doorstep. Though scarred with the gashes of the deadly tomahawk, life was not quite gone out of the body of the white man, and with his last breath he gasped, "Doegs—Doegs," the name of a most hostile tribe of Indians.

At once the alarm was given and the

neighborhood was in an uproar. Experience had taught the Virginians that such a deed as had been committed was but a beginning of horrors and that there was no telling who the next victim might be. Colonel Giles Brent, commander of the horse, and Colonel George Mason, commander of the foot soldiers of Stafford County,—both of them living about six or eight miles from the scene of the tragedy,—with all speed gathered a force of some thirty men and gave chase to the murderers. They followed them for twenty miles up the Potomac River and then across into Maryland (which colony was then at peace with the Indians), firing upon all the red men they saw without taking time to find out whether or not they were of the offending tribe. In Maryland, Colonels Brent and Mason divided the men under them into two parties and continued their chase, taking different directions. Soon each party came upon, and surrounded, an Indian cabin. Colonel Brent shot the king of the Doegs who was in the cabin found by him, and took his son, a boy eight years

old, prisoner. The Indians fired a few shots from within the cabin and were fired upon by the white men without. Finally the Indians rushed from the doors and fled. The noise of the guns aroused the Indians in the cabin—a short distance away—surrounded by Colonel Mason's men, and they fled with Mason's men following and firing upon them, until one of them turning back rushed up to Mason and shaking him by both hands said, "Susquehannocks—friends!" and turned and fled. Whereupon Colonel Mason ran among his men, crying out,

"For the Lord's sake, shoot no more! These are our friends the Susquehannocks!"

The Susquehannocks were an exceedingly fierce tribe of Indians but were, just then, at peace with the English settlers.

Colonels Mason and Brent returned to Virginia, taking with them the little son of the chief of the Doegs; but as murders continued to be committed upon both sides of the Potomac, Maryland (which was now drawn into the embroglio) and Virginia soon afterward raised between them a thousand

men in the hope of putting a stop to the trouble. The Virginians were commanded by Col. John Washington (great-grandfather of General Washington) and Col. Isaac Allerton. These troops laid siege to a stronghold of the Susquehannocks, in Maryland. The siege lasted seven weeks. During it the besiegers brought down upon themselves bitter hatred by putting to death five out of six of the Susquehannocks' "great men" who were sent out to treat of peace. They alleged, by way of excuse, that they recognized in the "great men" some of the murderers of their fellow-countrymen. At the end of the seven weeks, during which fifty of the besiegers were killed, the Susquehannocks silently escaped from their fort in the middle of the night, "knocking on the head" ten of their sleeping foes, by way of a characteristic leave-taking, as they passed them upon the way out. Leaving the rest to guard the cage in blissful ignorance that the birds were flown, the Indians crossed over into Virginia as far as the head of James River. Instead of the notched trees that were wont

to serve as landmarks in the pioneer days, these infuriated Indians left behind them a pathway marked by gaping wounds upon the bodies of white men, women, and children. They swore to have still further revenge for the loss of their "great men," each of whose lives, they said, was worth the lives of ten of the Englishmen, who were of inferior rank, while their ambassadors were "men of quality."

Sir William Berkeley afterward rebuked the besiegers before the Grand Assembly for their breach of faith, saying,

"If they had killed my grandfather and grandmother, my father and mother and all of my friends, yet if they had come to treat of peace they ought to have gone in peace."

The English held that the savages were utterly treacherous, their treaties of peace were dishonored by themselves and were therefore unworthy of being kept by others.

An investigation made by Governor Berkeley showed that neither of the Virginia officers was responsible for the shabby piece of work.

However faithless the Indians may have been in most matters, they were as good as their word touching their vengeance for the loss of their "men of quality." About the first of the new year a party of them made a sudden raid upon the upper plantations of the Potomac and Rappahannock rivers, massacred thirty-six persons, and fled to the woods. News of this disaster was quickly carried to the Governor, who for once seemed to respond to the need of his people. He called a court and placed a competent force to march against the Indians under command of Sir Henry Chicheley and some other gentlemen of Rappahannock County, giving them full power, by commission, to make peace or war. When all things had been made ready for the party to set out, however, Governor Berkeley, with exasperating fickleness, changed his mind, withdrew the commission, and ordered the men to be disbanded, and so no steps were taken for the defense of the colony against the daily and hourly dangers that lurked in the forests, threatened the homes and haunted the steps of

the planters—robbing life in Virginia of the freedom and peace which had been its chief charm.

The poor Virginians were not "under continual and deadly fears and terrors of their lives" without reason. As a result of their Governor's unpardonable tardiness in giving them protection, the number of plantations in the neighborhood of the massacre was in about a fortnight's brief space reduced from seventy-one to eleven. Some of the settlers had deserted their firesides and taken refuge in the heart of the country, and others had been destroyed by the savages.

Not until March did the Assembly meet to take steps for the safety and defense of the colonists, three hundred of whom had by that time been cut off, and then, under Governor Berkeley's influence, the only action taken was the establishment of forts at the heads of the rivers and on the frontiers, and of course heavy taxes were laid upon the people to build and maintain them. These fortifications afforded no real defense, as the garrisons within them were

prohibited from firing upon Indians without special permission from the Governor, and were only a new burden upon the people. The building of the forts may have been an honest (though unwise and insufficient) attempt at protection of the colony, but the people would not believe it. They saw in them only expensive "mousetraps," for whose bait they were to pay, while they were sure that the shrewd Indians would continue their outrages without coming dangerously near such easily avoided snares. They declared that, scattered about as the forts were, they gave no more protection than so many extra plantations with men in them; that their erection was "a great grievance, juggle and cheat," and only "a design of the grandees to engross all of the tobacco into their own hands." In their indignation the planters vowed that rather than pay taxes to support the forts they would plant no more tobacco.

So often had the Governor of Virginia mocked them with fair but unfulfilled promises, so often temporized and parried

words with them while their lives were in jeopardy and the terror-stricken cries of their wives and children were sounding "grievous and intolerable" in their ears, that those whom he was in honor bound to protect had lost all faith in him and all hope of obtaining any relief from him or his Assembly. Finally, as Sir William Berkeley would not send his forces against the murderers, the suffering planters resolved to take matters into their own hands and to raise forces amongst themselves, only they first humbly craved of him the sanction of his commission for any commanders whom he should choose to lead them in defense of their "lives and estates, which without speedy prevention, lie liable to the injury of such insulting enemies." The petitioners assured Sir William that they had no desire to "make any disturbance or put the country to any charge," but with characteristic lack of sympathy he bluntly refused to grant their request and forbade a repetition of it, "under great penalty."

The people's fears and discontent steadily

increased. It seemed more and more evident that Governor Berkeley was protecting their murderous enemies for his own gain, for (they charged) after having prohibited all traffic with the Indians, he had, privately, given commission to some of his friends to truck with them, and these favorites had supplied them with the very arms and ammunition that were intended for the protection of the colonists against their savagery. The red men were thus better provided with arms than his Majesty's subjects, who had "no other ingredients" from which to manufacture munitions of war but "prayers and misspent intreaties, which having vented to no purpose, and finding their condition every whit as bad, if not worse, than before the forts were made," they resolved to cease looking to the Governor for aid and to take the steps that seemed to them necessary for defense and preservation of themselves and those dear to them. In other words, since their petition for a commission to march against the Indians was denied them, they would march without a commission, thus venturing

not only their lives, but the tyrannical old Governor's displeasure for the sake of their firesides.

With this end in view, the dwellers in the neighborhood of Merchant's Hope Plantation, in Charles City County, on James River, began to "beat up drums for Volunteers to go out against the Indians, and soe continued Sundry dayes drawing into Armes." The magistrates, either for fear or favor, made no attempt to prevent "soe dangerous a beginning & going on," and a commander and head seemed all that was needed to perfect the design and lead it on to success.

Such, then, was the condition of the little colony which had struggled and hoped and hoped and struggled again, until now hope seemed to have withdrawn her light altogether, and a despairing struggle to be all that was left.

IV.

ENTER, MR. BACON.

Throughout all history of all lands, at the supreme moment when any country whatsoever has seemed to stand in suspense debating whether to give itself over to despair or to gather its energies for one last blow at oppression, the mysterious star of destiny has seemed to plant itself—a fixed star—above the head of some one man who has been (it may be) raised up for the time and the need, and who has appeared, under that star's light, to have more of the divine in him than his brother mortals. To him other men turn as to a savior, vowing to follow his guidance to the death; upon his head women call down Heaven's blessings, while in their hearts they enshrine him as something akin to a god. Oftentimes such men fall far short of their

aims, yet their failures are like to be more glorious than common victories. The star that led them on in life does not desert them in death—it casts a tender glow upon their memory, and through the tears of those who would have laid down their lives for them it takes on the softened radiance of the martyr's crown.

Other times and other countries have had their leaders, their heroes, their martyrs—Virginia, in 1676, had her Nathaniel Bacon.

This young man was said to be a "gentleman of no obscure family." He was, indeed, a cousin of Nathaniel Bacon, Sr., the highly esteemed president of the Virginia Council of State, who remained loyal to the government during the rebellion against Sir William Berkeley's rule, and is said to have offered to make his belligerent relative his heir if he would remain loyal, too. The first of the family of whom anything is known was Robert Bacon, of Drinkstone, who married Isabella Cage and had two sons, one of whom was Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper, and father of the great Lord Bacon; and the other James

Bacon, Alderman of London, who died in 1573. Alderman Bacon's son, Sir James Bacon, of Friston Hall, married his cousin Elizabeth, daughter and heiress of Francis Bacon, of Hessett, and had two sons, James Bacon, Rector of Burgate (father of President Nathaniel, of Virginia), and Nathaniel Bacon, of Friston Hall, who married Anne, daughter of Sir Thomas De Grasse, of Norfolk, England, and died in 1644. Nathaniel and Elizabeth Bacon were the parents of Thomas Bacon, of Friston, who married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Robert Brooke, of Yexford. Nathaniel Bacon, Jr., styled "the Rebel," was their son.

This Nathaniel Bacon was born on January 2, 1647, at Friston Hall, and was educated at Cambridge University—entering St. Catherine's College there in his fourteenth year and taking his A.M. degree in his twenty-first. In the mean time he had seen "many Forraigne Parts," having set out with Ray, the naturalist; Skipton, and a party of gentlemen, in April, 1663, upon "a journey made through part of the Low Countries, Germany, Italy, France." A

quaint account of all they saw, written by Skippon, may be found in "Churchill's Voyages." In 1664 young Bacon entered Grey's Inn. In 1674 he was married to Mistress Elizabeth Duke, daughter of Sir Edward Duke, and in that year his history becomes a subject of interest to Virginians, for in the autumn or winter he set sail with his bride, in a ship bound for Jamestown, to make or mar his fortune in a new world. The young couple soon made a home for themselves at "Curles Neck," some twenty miles below the site afterward chosen by Colonel William Byrd for the city of Richmond, and about forty miles above Jamestown. This plantation afterward became famous in Virginia as one of the seats of the Randolph family. Bacon had a second plantation, which he called "Bacon's Quarter," within the present limits of Richmond, but his residence was at "Curles."

The newcomer's high connections, natural talents—improved as they had been by cultivation and travel—and magnetic personality evidently brought him speedy

distinction in Virginia, for he at once began to take a prominent part in public affairs, was made a member of his Majesty's Council, and soon enjoyed the reputation of being the "most accomplished man in the colony."

Ere long, too, it became apparent that the heart of this marked man was with the people. Encouraged by his sympathy they poured their lamentations into his ears, and along with his pity for their helpless and hopeless condition a mighty wrath against Governor Berkeley took possession of his impetuous soul. "If the redskins meddle with me, damn my blood," he cried—with what Governor Berkeley called his "usual" oath—"but I'll harry them, commission or no commission!" Soon enough the "redskins" did "meddle" with him, murdering his overseer, to whom he was warmly attached, at "Bacon's Quarter," and, as will be seen, he proved himself to be a man as good as his word.

And so it happened that upon this newcomer the whole country, ripe for rebellion, casting about for a leading spirit to give

the signal for the uprising, set its hope and its love. In him choice had fallen upon one who had the courage to plan and the ability to put into execution, and who, for want of a commission from the Governor to lead a campaign against the Indians accepted one "from the people's affections, signed by the emergencies of affairs and the country's danger."

Though only twenty-nine years of age when he was called, of a sudden, to take so large a part in the history of Virginia, Nathaniel Bacon looked to be "about four or five and thirty." No friendly brush or pen has left us a portrait of him, but the Royal Commissioners, sent over after the Rebellion to "enquire into the affairs of the colony," give us the impression which they gathered from all they heard of him. In their words he was "Indifferent tall but slender, black-haired, and of an ominous, pensive, melancholy aspect, of a pestilent and prevalent logical discourse tending to atheism in most companies, not given to much talk, or to make sudden replies; of a most imperious and dangerous

hidden pride of heart, despising the wisest of his neighbors for their ignorance and very ambitious and arrogant."

Verily, a lively and interesting picture, for even an enemy to paint.

His temperament and personality were as striking as his appearance and manner. He was nervous and full of energy; determined, self-reliant and fearless; quick and clear of thought and prompt to act. In speaking, he was enthusiastic and impassioned, and full of eloquence and spirit, and if he had been born a hundred years or so later would doubtless have been dubbed a "silver-tongued orator." He was a man born to sway the hearts of his fellows, which he understood and drew after him with magnetic power, and upon which he could play with the sureness of a master of music touching the keys of a delicate musical instrument.

Such was the man toward whom in the hour of despair the hopes of the Virginians turned—such the man who declared his willingness to "stand in the gap" between the commonalty and the "grandees," and

with true Patrick Henry-like devotion, to risk home, fortune, life itself, in the cause of freedom from tyranny.

One day a group of four prominent Virginia planters were talking together and, naturally, made the "sadness of the times and the fear they all lived in" the subject of their conversation. These gentlemen were Captain James Crews, of "Turkey Island,"[47:A] Henrico County; Henry Isham, Colonel William Byrd (first of the name), and Nathaniel Bacon. They were all near neighbors, and lived in the region most exposed and subject to the Indian horrors—Squire Bacon's overseer having been among the latest victims. Their talk also turned upon the little army of volunteers that was collecting in Charles City County, on the other side of the river, to march against the Indians. Captain Crews told them that he had suggested Bacon to lead the campaign, and the two other gentlemen

at once joined him in urging Squire Bacon to go over and see the troops, and finally persuaded him to do so. No sooner did the soldiers see him approaching than from every throat arose a great shout of, "A Bacon! A Bacon! A Bacon!"

The young man's companions urged him to accept the proffered leadership and promised to serve under him; his own ambition and enthusiasm caught fire from the warmth of such an ardent greeting, and without more ado he became "General Bacon, by consent of the people."

In a letter to England, describing the state of affairs in the colony, and his connection with them, he wrote how, "Finding that the country was basely, for a small, sordid gain, betrayed, and the lives of the poor inhabitants wretchedly sacrificed," he "resolved to stand in this ruinous gap" and to expose his "life and fortune to all hazards." His quick and sympathetic response to their call "greatly cheered and animated the populace," who saw in him the "only patron of the country and preserver of their lives and fortunes, so that

their whole hearts and hopes were set upon him."

To a man like Nathaniel Bacon it would have been impossible to do anything by halves. Having once for all committed himself to the people's cause, he threw his whole heart and soul into the work before him, and recognizing the danger of delay and the importance of letting stroke follow stroke while the iron of enthusiasm was still aglow, he began at once to gather his forces and to plan the Indian campaign.

The excited volunteers crowded around him and he "listed" them as fast as they offered themselves, "upon a large paper, writing their names circular-wise, that their ring leaders might not be found out." Having "conjured them into this circle," he "gave them brandy to wind up the charm," and drink success to the undertaking, and had them to take an oath to "stick fast" to each other and to him, and then went on to New Kent County to enlist the people thereabouts.

FOOTNOTES:

[47:A] Afterward the seat of William Randolph, first of the Randolph family in Virginia.

V.

THE INDIAN WAR-PATH.

It was about the end of April, when the glad sight of the countryside bursting into life and blossom and throbbing with the fair promise of spring doubtless added buoyancy to hearts already cheered by the hope of brighter days, that Nathaniel Bacon at the head of three hundred men-in-arms, set out upon the Indian warpath. Sir William Berkeley, in a rage at their daring to take steps for their own defense without a commission from him, but powerless to put a stop to such unheard-of proceedings, promptly proclaimed leader and followers "rebels and mutineers," and getting a troop of soldiers together, set out toward the falls of James River, in hot pursuit, resolved either to overtake and capture "General" Bacon, or to seize him on his return. This proved to be a

wild-goose chase, however, for the little army of "rebels" had already crossed to the south side of James River and was marching "through boush, through briar," toward the haunts of the savages, whither the Governor's train-bands had little appetite to follow.

The enraged Berkeley, finding his will thwarted, waited patiently for the return of the doughty three hundred, taking what grim satisfaction he could find in telling young Mistress Elizabeth Bacon that her husband would hang as soon as he came back, in issuing, upon May 10, another proclamation against the "young, inexperienced, rash and inconsiderate," general and his "rude, dissolute and tumultuous" followers, and in deposing Bacon from his seat in the "honorable Council" and from his office as a magistrate.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel Bacon and his men, regardless of the anxiety with which Governor Berkeley watched for their return, were pressing on through the wilderness. When they had marched "a great way to the south"—had crossed into

Carolina, indeed—and their supplies were nearly spent, they came upon a little island (probably in Roanoke River) seated by the Ockinagee Indians, one of the tribes said to have been protected by Berkeley for sake of the fur trade, and doubtless the same as the Mangoaks, rumors of whose great trade with the Indians of the northwest, for copper, had been brought to Sir Walter Raleigh's colony. These Ockinagees, who were very likely a branch of the great Dakota family of Indians, were evidently a most enterprising people, and their isle was a veritable center of commerce among the red-skin inhabitants of that region. It was described as "commodious for trade, and the mart for all the Indians for at least five hundred miles" around. Its residents had at that time on hand no less than a thousand beaver skins of which Sir William Berkeley and his partners would in due time, doubtless, have become possessed, and it was supposed to have been through trade with these Islanders that arms and ammunition were passed on to the fierce Susquehannock braves.

When Bacon reached the island he saw at once that it would be nothing short of madness to pit his handful of foot-sore and half-starved men against the combined strength of the Ockinagees and the Susquehannocks, so, adopting a policy patterned after the savages' own crafty methods of warfare, he made friends with one tribe and persuaded them to fall upon the other. The result was a furious battle between the two tribes in which thirty Susquehannock warriors and all of their women and children were killed. By this time Bacon's men were in a sorry plight for the want of provisions. They offered to buy food from their new-made friends, the Ockinagees, who promised them relief on the morrow, but when the next day came put them off again with talk of still another "morrow." In the mean time, they were evidently making preparations for battle. They had reinforced their three forts upon the island, and were seen to grow more and more warlike in their attitude as the pale faces grew weaker in numbers and in physical strength. To add to the desperate

situation, there came a report that the Indians had received private messages from Governor Berkeley.

Bacon's men had, in their eagerness to procure food, "waded shoulder deep through the river," to one of the island forts, "still entreating and tendering pay for the victuals," but all to no avail. While the half-starved creatures stood in the water, with hands stretched out, still begging for bread, one of them was struck by a shot fired from the mainland, by an Indian. The luckless shot proved to be the signal for a hideous battle. Bacon, knowing full well that retreat meant starvation for himself and his devoted little band of followers, believing that the savages within the fort had sent for others to cut them off in their rear, but not losing the presence of mind that armed him for every emergency, quickly drew his men close against the fort where their enemies could get no range upon them, and ordering them to poke their guns between the stakes of the palisades, fired without discrimination—without mercy. All through the night and

until late into the next day the wilderness echoed with the yells of the wounded and dying savages and with the gun-shots of the hunger-crazed palefaces.

Let us not forget that this battle was the last resort of an army which championed the cause of the people of Virginia, and upon whose steps the horrors of murder, torture, and starvation waited momently. Let us also not forget that the time was the seventeenth century, the place a wilderness, the provocation an attempt not merely to shut the Anglo-Saxon race from the shores of the New World, but to wipe out with hatchet and torch the Anglo-Saxon homes which were already planted there.

When at last, after a loss of eleven of their own hardy comrades, the exhausted Baconians withdrew from the fray, the island fort had been entirely demolished and vast numbers of the Indians slain.

While Sir William Berkeley possessed his soul in as much patience as he could command at the Falls of the James, lying in wait for Bacon's return, the inhabitants farther down toward Jamestown began to

"draw into arms," and to proclaim against the useless and costly forts. Open war with the Indians was the one thing that would content them, and war they were bent upon having. They vowed that they would make war upon all Indians who would not "come in with their arms" and give hostages for their fidelity and pledge themselves to join with the English against all others. "If we must be hanged for rebels for killing those that will destroy us," said they, "let them hang us; we will venture that rather than lie at the mercy of a barbarous enemy and be murdered as we are."

In a "Manifesto," defending the rights of the people, issued soon after his return, Bacon made a scornful and spirited reply to Governor Berkeley's charges of rebellion and treason. "If virtue be a sin," said he, "if piety be 'gainst all the principles of morality, goodness and justice be perverted, we must confess that those who are now called rebels may be in danger of those high imputations, those loud and several bulls would affright innocents and

render the defence of our brethren and the inquiry into our sad and heavy oppressions treason. But if here be, as sure is, a just God to appeal to, if religion and justice be a sanctuary here, if to plead the cause of the oppressed, if sincerely to aim at his Majesty's honor and the public good without any reservation or by-interest, if to stand in the gap after so much blood of our dear brethren bought and sold, if after the loss of a great part of his Majesty's colony, deserted and dispeopled, freely with our lives and estates to endeavor to save the remainders, be treason, Lord Almighty judge and let the guilty die." Can it be that these words were in the mind of Patrick Henry, when, nearly a hundred years later, he cried, "If this be treason, make the most of it"?

VI.

THE JUNE ASSEMBLY.

Governor Berkeley, finding the wrath of the people past his control, gave up for the time the chase after Bacon, returned home, and to appease the people, not only had the offensive forts dismantled, but even, upon the 18th of May, dissolved the legislature that had established them, and for the first time for fourteen years gave orders for the election of a new free Assembly. This Assembly, whose immediate work, the Governor declared, should be to settle the "distracted" condition of Virginia, was "new" in more senses than one, for, departing from the usual custom of electing only freeholders to represent them, some of the counties chose men "that had but lately crept out of the condition of servants," for their Burgesses. Thus showing the strong democratic feeling that had arisen, to the exasperation of the aristocratic Berkeley.

Bacon had by this time returned from his march into the wilderness and the countryside was ringing with glowing reports of his success against the Indians. The people welcomed him with wild enthusiasm, for they not only regarded him as their champion against the brutalities of savages, but attributed to him the calling of the new Assembly, to which they looked for relief from the "hard times." Their hopes, as will be seen, were not doomed to disappointment.

A short time before the meeting of this "June Assembly," as it was commonly called, Bacon made his friend and neighbor, Captain Crews, the bearer of a letter from him to Sir William Berkeley, in which he said:

"Sir: Loyalty to our King and obedience to your Honor as his Majesty's servant or chief commander here, under him, this was generally the preface in all my proceedings to all men, declaring that I abhorred rebellion or the opposing of laws or government, and if that your Honor were in person to lead or command, I would follow and obey, and that if nobody

were present, though I had no order, I would still adventure to go in defence of the country against all Indians in general, for that they were all our enemies; this I have always said and do maintain, but as to the injury or violation of your power, interest, or personal safety, I always accounted magistracy sacred and the justness of your authority a sanctuary; I have never otherwise said, nor ever will have any other thoughts."

Continuing, he says that he does not believe the rumors of the Governor's threats against his (Bacon's) life, which are "daily and hourly brought to my ears," and wishes that "his Honor" were as willing to distrust the various reports of him. He says his conscience is too clear to fear and his resolution too well grounded to let him discontinue his course, and closes his letter with these words:

"I dare be as brave as I am innocent, who am, in spite of all your high resentment, unfeignedly, your Honor's humble and obedient servant."

Madam Byrd, who had been driven from her home by fear of the Indians, said in a letter to a friend in England that neither Mr. Bacon nor any with him had injured any Englishman in their persons or estates, that the country was well pleased with what he had done, and she believed the council was too, "so far as they durst show it." "Most of those with Mr. Bacon," she wrote, "were substantial householders who bore their own charges in this war against the Indians." She added that she had heard that Bacon had told his men that he "would punish any man severely that should dare to speak a word against the Governor or government."

Henrico County chose Nathaniel Bacon to represent it in the new House of Burgesses, and Captain Crewes was also sent from that county. Although the voters were resolved to give their darling a voice in the Assembly, however, they were loth to trust his person in the midst of so many dangers as they knew lurked about Jamestown for him. Madam Elizabeth Bacon, proudly writing of her young

husband, to her sister in England, under date June 29, says, "The country does so really love him that they would not leave him alone anywhere."

And so, accompanied by a body-guard of forty armed men, the newly elected Burgess of Henrico set sail in a sloop for Jamestown. When he had passed Swan's Point, a mile or two above the town, he dropped anchor and sent a messenger ashore to inquire of the Governor whether or not he might land in safety and take his seat as a member of the Assembly. Governor Berkeley's only answer was delivered promptly, and with no uncertain sound, from the savage mouths of the "great guns" on the ramparts of the town fort—whereupon Bacon moved his sloop higher up the river. After nightfall, accompanied by a party of his men, he ventured on shore and went to "Mr. Lawrence's house" in the town, where he had an interview with his good friends Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Drummond, and then returned to the sloop without having been seen. These two friends of Bacon's were

gentlemen of prominence and wealth in the colony. Their houses were the best built and the best furnished in Jamestown, and Richard Lawrence was a scholar as well as a "gentleman and a man of property," for he was a graduate of Oxford, and was known to his contemporaries as "thoughtful Mr. Lawrence." His accomplishments, added to a genial and gracious temper, made him a favorite with both the humble and the great, and he had the honor to represent Jamestown in the House of Burgesses. He had married a rich widow who kept a fashionable inn at Jamestown, and their house was a rendezvous for persons of the best quality. Mr. Lawrence was cordially hated by Governor Berkeley and his friends, one of whom dubbed him "that atheistical and scandalous person."

Mr. Drummond, "a sober Scotch Gentleman of good repute," had at one time been Governor of North Carolina. He was noted for wisdom and honesty, and an admirer said of him, "His dimensions are not to be taken by the line of an ordinary capacity"; but the Governor's caustic friend, already

quoted, has placed him on record as "that perfidious Scot."

We shall hear more of these two gentlemen hereafter.

At length, finding no hope of meeting with a more hospitable greeting from the Governor of Virginia than that which he had already received, the "Rebel" set his sails homeward; but, in obedience to Governor Berkeley's orders, Captain Gardner, master of the ship Adam and Eve, which lay a little way up the river, headed him off, and "commanded his sloop in" by firing upon him from aboard ship, arrested him and his guard, and delivered them up to the Governor, in Jamestown. Within the State House there a bit of drama was then acted in the presence of the amazed Assembly—Governor Berkeley and Mr. Bacon playing the principal parts. In this scene the fair-spoken Governor's feigned clemency was well-matched by the prisoner's feigned repentance, for Berkeley found it prudent to be careful of the person of a man in whose defense the excited people were ready to lay down their

lives, and Bacon found it equally prudent to seem to believe in the friendship of one who he knew hated him with all the venom of his bitter heart, and doubtless also realized that to accept the proffered clemency, however insincere he might know it to be, was the likeliest way of obtaining the coveted commission to continue his Indian campaign, and to gain admission to his seat in the Assembly, by which he hoped to raise his voice in behalf of the oppressed commonalty of Virginia.

The Governor, looking at Bacon, but addressing himself to the Assembly, said:

"Now I behold the greatest rebel that ever was in Virginia." Then, addressing himself to the prisoner, he questioned, "Sir, do you continue to be a gentleman, and may I take your word? If so you are at liberty upon your own parole."

Upon which Mr. Bacon expressed deep gratitude for so much favor.

On the next day the Governor stood up during the session of the Council, sitting as upper house of the Assembly, and said:

"If there be joy in the presence of

angels over one sinner that repenteth, there is joy now, for we have a penitent come before us. Call Mr. Bacon."

Mr. Bacon came forward, and dropping upon his knee, in mock humility, presented his Honor with a paper which he had drawn up, pleading guilty of the crime of rebellion and disobedience and throwing himself upon the mercy of the court.

Governor Berkeley forthwith declared him restored to favor, saying three times over, "God forgive you, I forgive you!"

Colonel Cole, of the Council, put in, "And all that were with him."

"Yea," quoth Sir William Berkeley, "and all that were with him"—meaning the Rebel's body-guard who had been captured in the sloop with him, and were then lying in irons.

Governor Berkeley furthermore extended his clemency to the culprit by restoring him to his former place in the Council of State,—"his Majesty's Council," as the Virginians loved to call it,—made him a positive promise of the much-desired commission to march against the

Indians, and even suffered Captain Gardner, of the ship Adam and Eve, to be fined the sum of seventy pounds damage and in default of payment to be thrown into jail, for seizing Bacon and his sloop, according to his own express orders.

Bacon's friends had been thrown into an uproar at the news of his arrest, and some of them made "dreadful threatenings to double revenge all wrongs" to their champion and his guard; but all were now so pleased at the happy turn of affairs that "every man with great gladness returned to his own home."

And so it happened that Mr. Nathaniel Bacon, so lately dubbed a "rebel" and a "mutineer," took his seat, not merely in the House of Burgesses, but in the more distinguished body, "his Majesty's Council." The Council chamber was upon the first floor of the State House, that occupied by the Burgesses' upon the second. The Burgesses, as they filed upstairs to take their places, that afternoon, saw, through the open door of the Council chamber, a surprising sight,—"Mr. Bacon on his

quondam seat,"—and to at least one of them it seemed "a marvelous indulgence" after all that had happened.

The session was distinctly one of reform. Nathaniel Bacon was determined to make the best of his hard-earned advantage while he had it, and he at once made his influence felt in the Assembly. He was now strong with both Burgesses and Council, who were won, in spite of any prejudices they may have had, to acknowledge the personal charm and the executive genius of the daring youth. He promptly set about revising and improving the laws. Universal suffrage was restored, a general inspection of public expenses and auditing of public accounts was ordered, and laws were enacted requiring frequent election of vestries by the people, and prohibiting all trade with the Indians, long terms of office, excessive fees, and the sale of spirituous liquors. Some of the most unpopular leaders of the Governor's party were debarred from holding any public office.

The wisdom of the Rebel's legislation was to be later set forth by the fact that

after his death, when the fascination of a personality which had bent men's wills to its own was no longer felt, and when his name was held in contempt by many who failed to understand him or his motives, the people of Virginia clamored for the reestablishment of "Bacon's Laws," which upon his downfall had been repealed; and in February, 1676-7, many of them were actually re-enacted—with only their titles changed.

Governor Berkeley, finding it beyond his power to stem the tide of reformation which tossed the old man about like a leaf whose little summer is past,—a tide by which his former glory seemed to be utterly submerged and blotted out,—pleaded sickness as an excuse to get away from it all, and take refuge within his own home, but in vain. Not until he had placed his signature to each one of the acts passed for the relief of the people and correction of the existing abuses would Bacon permit him to stir a step.

But the Assembly was not wholly taken up with revising the laws. It devoted

much attention to planning the Indian campaign to be carried on under "General Bacon," for which 1,000 men and provisions were provided. For this little army we are told that some volunteered to enlist and others were talked into doing so by members of the Council—Councillor Ballard being especially zealous in the work. It was also decided to enlist the aid of the Pamunkey Indians, who were descendants of Powhatan's braves, and had been allies of the English against other tribes. Accordingly, the "Queen of Pamunkey" was invited to appear before the House of Burgesses and say what she would do. The "Queen" at this time commanded a hundred and fifty warriors. She was the widow of the "mighty Totapotamoy" who had led a hundred warriors, in aid of the English, at the battle of "Bloody Run," and was slain with most of his men. The Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities possesses an interesting relic in what is known as the "Indian Crown,"—a silver frontlet presented to

the "Queen of Pamunkey" by the English Government, as a testimonial of friendship.

This forest queen is said to have "entered the chamber with a comportment graceful to admiration, bringing on her right hand an Englishman interpreter, and on her left her son, a stripling twenty years of age, she having round her head a plait of black and white wampumpeag, three inches broad, in imitation of a crown, and was clothed in a mantle of dressed deerskins with the hair outwards and the edge cut round six inches deep, which made strings resembling twisted fringe from the shoulders to the feet; thus with grave courtlike gestures and a majestic air in her face, she walked up our long room to the lower end of the table, where after a few entreaties, she sat down; the interpreter and her son standing by her on either side, as they had walked up."

When the chairman of the House addressed her she refused to answer except through the interpreter, though it was believed that she understood all that was said. Finally, when the interpreter had

made known to her that the House desired to know how many men she would lend her English friends for guides in the wilderness against her own and their "enemy Indians," she uttered, "with an earnest, passionate countenance, as if tears were ready to gush out," and a "high, shrill voice," a "harangue," in which the only intelligible words were, "Totapotamoy dead! Totapotamoy dead!" Colonel Edward Hill, whose father had commanded the English at the battle of "Bloody Run," and who was present, it is written, "shook his head."

In spite of this tragic "harangue," the House pressed her to say how many Indians she would spare for the campaign. She "sat mute till that same question being pressed a third time, she, not returning her face to the board, answered, with a low, slighting voice, in her own language, Six. But being further importuned, she, sitting a little while sullen, without uttering a word between, said Twelve. . . . and so rose up and walked gravely away, as not pleased with her treatment."

While Bacon was dictating laws in Virginia, making ready for the march against the Indians and at the same time preparing a defense of himself for the King, his father, Thomas Bacon, of Friston Hall, England, was on bended knee before his Majesty pleading with him to withhold judgment against the rash young man until he could obtain a full account of his part in the troubles in the colony, concerning which startling tales had already been carried across the water.

VII.

THE COMMISSION.

At last the Grand Assembly's work was done and everything but one was ready for the march against the Indians—the commission which Sir William Berkeley had publicly promised Bacon, and for which alone Bacon and his army tarried at Jamestown, was not yet forthcoming. The perfidious old man, crazed with jealousy of his prosperous young rival in the affections of the people, postponed granting it from day to day, while he secretly plotted Bacon's ruin. His plots were discovered, however, by some of the friends of Bacon, who was "whispered to," not a moment too soon, and informed that the Governor had given orders for him to be arrested again, and that road and river were beset with men lying in wait to assassinate him if he

attempted to leave Jamestown. Thus warned, he took horse and made his escape through the dark streets and past the scattered homes of the sleeping town before the sun was up to show which course he had taken. In the morning the party sent out to capture him made a diligent search throughout the town, actually thrusting their swords through the beds in the house of his "thoughtful" friend, Mr. Lawrence, to make sure that he was not hidden in them.

No sooner had the fugitive Bacon reached the "up country" than the inhabitants crowded around him, clamoring for news of the Assembly and eager to know the fate of his request for a commission to fight the Indians. When they learned the truth they "began to set up their throats in one common cry of oaths and curses." Toward evening of the same day a rumor reached Jamestown that Bacon was coming back at the head of a "raging tumult," who threatened to pull down the town if the Governor's promises to their leader were not kept. Governor Berkeley immediately ordered four "great guns" to be set up at Sandy

Beach—the only approach, by land, to Jamestown—to welcome the invaders, and all the men who could be mustered—only thirty in all—were called out and other preparations made to defend the town.

Next morning the little capital rang with the call to arms, but the despised Governor, finding it impossible to get together enough soldiers to resist the people's favorite, resorted to the stratagem of seeking to disarm the foe by the appearance of peace. The unfriendly cannon were taken from their carriages, the small arms put out of sight, and the whole town was made to present a picture of harmlessness and serenity.

The Assembly was calmly sitting on that June day when, without meeting with the slightest attempt at resistance, Nathaniel Bacon marched into Jamestown at the head of four hundred foot soldiers and a hundred and twenty horse. He at once stationed guards at all the "principal places and avenues," so that "no place could be more securely guarded," and then drew his men up in front of the State House where the Councillors and Burgesses were in session,

and defiantly demanded the promised commission. Some parleying through a committee sent out by the Council followed, but nothing was effected. Throughout the town panic reigned. The white head of the aged and almost friendless Governor alone kept cool. At length, his Cavalier blood at boiling point, he arose from the executive chair, and stalking out to where Bacon stood, while the gentlemen of the Council followed in a body, denounced him to his face as a "rebel" and a "traitor." Then, baring his bosom, he shouted, "Here! Shoot me! 'Fore God, a fair mark, shoot!" repeating the words several times. Drawing his sword, he next proposed to settle the matter with Bacon, then and there, in single combat.

"Sir," said Bacon, "I came not, nor intend, to hurt a hair of your Honor's head, and as for your sword, your Honor may please to put it up; it shall rust in the scabbard before ever I shall desire you to draw it. I come for a commission against the heathen who daily inhumanly murder us and spill our brethren's blood, and no care

is taken to prevent it," adding, "God damn my blood, I came for a commission, and a commission I will have before I go!"

During this dramatic interview, Bacon, his dark eyes burning, his black locks tossing, strode back and forth betwixt his two lines of men-at-arms, resting his left hand upon his hip, and flinging his right from his hat to his sword-hilt, and back again, while the Burgesses looked on breathless from the second-story windows of the State House.

At length the baffled Governor wheeled about and, with haughty mien, walked toward his private apartment at the other end of the State House, the gentlemen of the Council still close following him, while Bacon, in turn, surrounded by his body-guard, followed them, continuing to gesticulate in the wild fashion that has been described.

Finding Sir William deaf to every appeal, the determined young leader swore another great oath, and exclaiming, "I'll kill Governor, Council, Assembly and all, and then I'll sheathe my sword in my own

heart's blood!" he turned to his guard and ordered them to "Make ready, and present!"

In a flash the loaded muskets of the "fusileers" pointed with steady aim and true toward the white faces in the State House windows, while from the throats of the little army below arose a chorus of "We will have it! We will have it!" meaning the promised commission.

A quick-witted Burgess waved his handkerchief from the window, shouting, as he did so, "You shall have it! You shall have it!" and the day was saved. The tiny flag of truce worked a magic spell. The soldiers withdrew their guns, uncocked the matchlocks, and quietly followed Bacon back to the main body of his men. One witness says that Bacon's men also shouted a chorus of, "No levies! No levies!"

After a long and heated argument with Council and Burgesses (though not until the next day) Governor Berkeley grudgingly drew up a commission and sent it out. Bacon, who was bent upon making the most of his hard-won position, was not content

with it, however, and scorning to accept it, dictated one to his own mind and required the Governor to sign it, as well as thirty blank ones for officers to serve under him, to be filled with such names as he himself should see fit. Afterward, finding need of still more officers, he sent to Berkeley for another supply of blank commissions, but the beaten old man, deserted, for the time, by his resources and his nerve, sent back the answer that he had signed enough already, and bade General Bacon sign the rest for himself.

One more paper, however, the old man was made to sign—a letter to King Charles explaining and excusing Bacon's course, and an act of indemnity for Bacon and his followers.

Most of the commissions Bacon filled with the regular officers of the militia, as the "most fit to bear commands," and likely to be the "most satisfactory to both Governor and people."

The young General sat up all night long making his appointments and preparing the commissions, keeping the Burgess from

Stafford County, Mr. Mathew, whom he had pressed into service as secretary, up with him. This gentleman made bold to express the fear that as the people he represented dwelt upon the most northern frontier of the colony, their interests might not be so much regarded as those in General Bacon's own neighborhood, on the far southern frontier; but his fears were set to rest by Bacon's assurance that "the like care should be taken of the remotest corners in the land as in his own dwelling house."

In the very midst of Nathaniel Bacon's little reign at Jamestown came the news that the Indians, with a boldness exceeding any they had hitherto shown, had swooped down upon two settlements on York River, only twenty-three miles distant from the little capital, and more than forty miles within the bounds of the frontier plantations, and had massacred eight persons. This was upon the morning of the twenty-fifth of June—a Sunday—when the pious Virginians were doubtless rejoicing in a welcome rest from law-making, and, resplendent in apparel fashioned after the

latest mode in England at the time when the ships that brought it over sailed thence, were offering thanks in the church for the promise of brighter days which filled their hearts with good hope.

The town was again thrown into an uproar. Bacon ordered supplies to be taken to the Falls of James River, and upon Monday morning, bright and early, flags were unfurled, drums and trumpets sounded, and with the authority of the cherished commission as "General of all the forces in Virginia against the Indians," and the God-speed of men, women and children, he marched away at the head of his thousand troops.

From the chorus of cheers and prayers for his safety and success that followed him, however, one voice was missing. There was among those that witnessed the departure one who was silver-haired and full of years, but who had grown old ungracefully, for his brilliant and picturesque prime had been eclipsed by a narrow and crabbed old age. While every heart but his was stirred to its depths, every eye but his

dimmed by the gentle moisture of emotion, every tongue but his attuned to blessings, Sir William Berkeley was possessed by wrathful silence, resolved to submit as best he could to what he could not help, and to bide his time till the aid from England, which he confidently expected, should arrive. He was in the mean time upon the lookout for any straw that could be caught at to stem the tide of his rival's popularity, and such a straw he soon found.

The people of Gloucester County had been irritated by the rigorous manner in which Bacon's officers impressed men and horses for the Indian campaign. One account even states (most likely without truth) that Bacon himself had been in Gloucester upon this business. Berkeley was informed of the feeling in that county and told that the settlers there were loyal to him and would support him against Bacon. The old man hastened to Gloucester, where he was presented with a petition complaining bitterly of the loss of men and horses impressed for the Indian war, and especially of the rowdy methods of "one

Matthew Gale, one of Mr. Bacon's chief commanders," and begging for protection "against any more of these outrages." Sir William answered that the petition would be "most willingly granted," for that he "felt bound" to preserve his Majesty's subjects from the "outrages and oppressions to which they have lately too much submitted by the tyranny and usurpation of Nathaniel Bacon, Jun., who never had any commission from me but what, with armed men, he extracted from the Assembly, which in effect is no more than if a thief should take my purse and make me own I gave it him freely, so that in effect his commission, whatever it is, is void in law and nature, and to be looked upon as no value."

Encouraged by the attitude of the people of Gloucester, Governor Berkeley at once began raising troops, ostensibly to go himself to fight the Indians, but really to attack Bacon.

In the mean time, Bacon, in blissful ignorance of the fresh trouble brewing for him, was marching on toward the Falls.

They were reached ere long, and all was now ready for the plunge into the wilderness where the red horror lurked. He gathered his men about him and made them a speech. He assured them of his loyalty to England and that his only design was to serve his King and his country. Lest any should question the means by which he had gotten his commission, he reminded them of the urgency of the time and the "cries of his brethren's blood that alarmed and wakened him to his public revenge." When he had finished speaking he took the oath of "allegiance and supremacy," in the presence of all his soldiers, had them to take it, and then gave them an oath of fidelity to himself. By this oath they bound themselves to make known to him any plot against the persons of himself or any of his men, of which they might happen to hear; also, to have no communication with the Indians, to send no news out of camp, and to discover all councils, plots, and conspiracies of the Indians against the army.

VIII.

CIVIL WAR.

The cheers of assent which answered the commander's words died upon the air, and the order to march was about to be given, when a messenger posted into camp with the news that Governor Berkeley was in Gloucester County raising forces to surprise Bacon and take his commission from him by force. The doughty young General, unfailing of resources, and nothing daunted even by this "amusing" message, promptly decided what he should do. In obedience to his command, trumpet and drum again called his men together that he might inform them that ere they could further pursue the chase after their "dearest foe" they must turn backward again once more to meet the even greater horrors of civil warfare—how instead of leading them as he had supposed, only against the hated

redskins, he must now command that the sword of friend should be turned against friend, brother against brother.

"Gentlemen and Fellow Soldiers," he said, "the news just now brought me may not a little startle you as well as myself. But seeing it is not altogether unexpected, we may the better hear it and provide our remedies. The Governor is now in Gloucester County endeavoring to raise forces against us, having declared us rebels and traitors; if true, crimes indeed too great for pardon. Our consciences herein are best witnesses, and theirs so conscious as like cowards therefore they will not have the courage to face us. It is revenge that hurries them on without regard to the people's safety, and had rather we should be murdered and our ghosts sent to our slaughtered countrymen by their actings than we live to hinder them of their interest[87:A] with the heathen, and preserve the remaining part of our fellow-subjects from their cruelties. Now then, we must be

forced to turn our swords to our own defence, or expose ourselves to their mercies, or fortune of the woods, whilst his Majesty's country lies here in blood and wasting (like a candle) at both ends. How incapable we may be made (if we should proceed) through sickness, want of provisions, slaughter, wounds, less or more, none of us is void of the sense hereof.

"Therefore, while we are sound at heart, unwearied, and not receiving damage by the fate of war, let us descend to know the reasons why such proceedings are used against us. That those whom they have raised for their defense, to preserve them against the fury of the heathen, they should thus seek to destroy, and to betray our lives whom they raised to preserve theirs. If ever such treachery was heard of, such wickedness and inhumanity (and call all the ages to witness) and if any, that they suffered it in like manner as we are like by the sword and ruins of war.

"But they are all damned cowards, and you shall see they will not dare to meet us

in the field to try the justness of our cause, and so we will down to them."

As the ringing notes of their commander's voice died away, a great shout arose from the soldiers. "Amen! Amen!" they cried. "We are all ready to die in the field rather than be hanged like rogues, or perish in the woods exposed to the favors of the merciless Indians!" And without more ado, they wheeled about and marched, a thousand strong, to meet their pursuers.

There was, however, to be no battle that day. It is true, as has been shown, that the Governor had raised forces under the pretense of going himself to aid in the Indian warfare, but really for the purpose of pursuing and surprising Bacon and (in true Indian-gift fashion) taking the commission away from him. But as soon as the Governor's army discovered for what service they were called out they bluntly, and with one accord, refused to obey marching orders, and setting up a cheer of "Bacon, Bacon, Bacon!" walked off the field—still (it is written) muttering in time to their step, "Bacon, Bacon, Bacon!"

The poor old Governor, finding himself thus abandoned, his friends so few, his cause so weak, his authority despised and his will thwarted at every turn, "for very grief and sadness of spirit," fainted away in his saddle. Soon enough he heard that Bacon was on the march toward Gloucester to meet him, and finding himself utterly unprepared for the encounter, he fled, in desperation, to Accomac County, upon the Eastern Shore of Virginia, which, cut off as it is by the broad waters of the Chesapeake, had not suffered from the Indian horrors that had fallen upon the rest of the colony, and had remained loyal to the government. Here Sir William found a welcome shelter, though, even while giving him the balm of a hospitable greeting and according him the honor they conceived to be due him as the King's representative, the people of Accomac did not forbear to complain to him of the public abuses from which they had suffered in common with the folk across the Bay.

As unsuccessful as was Berkeley's attempt to muster an army to oppose Bacon,

its consequences were dire. The "Royal Commissioners" appointed to investigate and report upon the merits of Bacon's Rebellion condemned it, declaring that nothing could have called back Bacon, "then the hopes of the people," from his march against the Indians, or "turned the sword of a civil war into the heart and bowels of the country, but so ill-timed a project as this proved."

"Now in vain," say the Commissioners, "the Governor attempts raising a force against Bacon, and although the industry and endeavors he used was great, yet at this juncture it was impossible, for Bacon at this time was so much the hopes and darling of the people that the Governor's interest proved but weak." And so he "was fain to fly" to Accomac.

When at length Bacon reached Gloucester he found "the Governor fled and the field his own," so he marched boldly, and without resistance, to the "Middle Plantation," the very "heart and center" of the colony, and soon to be chosen as the site for its new capital—storied Williamsburg.

Here the young "rebel" found himself lord of all he surveyed—the Governor gone, and all Virginia, save the two counties on the Eastern Shore, in his power. After quartering his soldiers he issued a proclamation inviting all the gentlemen of Virginia to meet him at the "Middle Plantation," and "consult with him for the present settlement of that, his Majesty's distressed Colony, to preserve its future peace, and advance the effectual prosecution of the Indian war."

In response to the summons a great company of people gathered, on the third day of August, at the house of Mr. Otho Thorpe. From this convention the real Rebellion is dated. An oath was drawn up, by Bacon, to be taken by the people of Virginia, "of what quality soever, excepting servants." By it the people were bound to aid their General with their lives and estates in the Indian war; to oppose and hinder the Governor's designs, "if he had any," and to resist any forces that might be sent over from England to suppress Bacon until time was allowed to acquaint his Majesty with

the "grievances" of the colony, and to receive a reply.

The oath was put into due form and read to the convention by the clerk of the Assembly. A stormy debate, which lasted from midday until midnight, followed. Some feared the oath (especially the clause regarding resistance of the King's soldiers) to be a dangerous one. Bacon, supported by many others, protested its innocency.

"The tenor of the oath" was declared in the report of the "Royal Commissioners" to be as follows:

"1. You are to oppose what forces shall be sent out of England by his Majesty against me, till such time I have acquainted the King with the state of this country, and have had an answer.

"2. You shall swear that what the Governor and Council have acted is illegal and destructive to the country, and what I have done is according to the laws of England.

"3. You shall swear from your hearts that my commission is legal and lawfully obtained.

"4. You shall swear to divulge what you have heard at any time spoken against me.

"5. You shall keep my secrets and not discover them to any person."

The men foremost in urging the oath were Colonel Swann, Colonel Beale, Colonel Ballard, and Squire Bray, of the Council, and Colonel Jordan, Colonel Smith, Colonel Scarsbrook, Colonel Milner, Mr. Lawrence, and Mr. Drummond—all of them gentlemen of standing in the colony.

Bacon himself pleaded hotly for the oath, and at last vowed that unless it were taken he would surrender up his commission to the Assembly, and "let them find other servants to do the country's work."

This threat decided the question. The oath was agreed to and was administered by the regular magistrates in almost all of the counties, "none or very few" dodging it.

Bacon's position, already so secure, was now made all the stronger by the arrival of the "gunner of York fort," breathless with the tidings that this, the "most considerablest fortress in the country," was in danger

of being surprised and attacked by the Indians, and imploring help to prevent it. The savages had made a bold raid into Gloucester, massacring some of the settlers of the Carter's Creek neighborhood, and a number of the terror-stricken county folk had fled to York for refuge. The fort could offer them little protection, however, for Governor Berkeley had robbed it of its arms and ammunition, which he had stowed away in his own vessel and sailed away with them in his flight to the Eastern Shore.

FOOTNOTES:

[87:A] The fur trade.

IX.

THE INDIAN WAR-PATH AGAIN.

Bacon at once began making ready to continue his oft-interrupted Indian campaign, but first, to be sure of leaving the country safe from Berkeley's ire,—for he feared lest "while he went abroad to destroy the wolves, the foxes, in the mean time, should come and devour the sheep,"—he seized Captain Larrimore's ship, then lying in the James, and manned her with two hundred men and guns. This ship he sent under command of Captain Carver, "a person acquainted with navigation," and Squire Bland, "a gentleman of an active and stirring disposition, and no great admirer of Sir William's goodness," to arrest Sir William Berkeley for the purpose of sending him—as those of earlier times had sent Governor Harvey—home to

England, to stand trial for his "demerits toward his Majesty's subjects of Virginia," and for the "likely loss of that colony," for lack of defence against the "native savages."

Before leaving "Middle Plantation" the Rebel issued a summons, in the name of the King, and signed by four members of his Majesty's Council, for a meeting of the Grand Assembly, to be held upon September 4, to manage the affairs of the colony in his absence.

Jamestown he left under the command of Colonel Hansford, whom he commissioned to raise forces for the safety of the country, if any should be needed. He then set out, with a mind at rest, upon his Indian warfare. The few who had had the hardihood to openly oppose his plans he left behind him safe within prison bars; others, who were at first unfriendly to him, he had won over to his way of thinking by argument; while any that he suspected might raise any party against him in his absence, he took along with him.

For the third time, then, he marched to

the "Falls of James River," where it is written that he "bestirred himself lustily," to speedily make up for lost time in carrying on the war against the Ockinagees and Susquehannocks; but seems to have been unsuccessful in his search for these tribes, which had probably fled far into the depths of the wilderness to escape Bacon's fury, for he soon abandoned the chase after them and marched over to the "freshes of York," in pursuit of the Pamunkeys, whose "propinquity and neighborhood to the English, and courses among them" was said to "render the rebels suspicious of them, as being acquainted and knowing both the manners, customs and nature of our people, and the strength, situation and advantages of the country, and so, capable of doing hurt and damage to the English."

The "Royal Commissioners" condemn the pursuit of the Pamunkeys, saying that "it was well known that the Queen of Pamunkey and her people had ne'er at any time betrayed or injured the English," and adding, "but among the vulgar it matters

not whether they be friends or foes, so they be Indians."

It is indeed evident that the war with the Indians was intended to be a war of extermination, for by such war only did the Virginians believe they would ever secure safety for themselves, their homes, and their families.

Governor Berkeley himself had no faith in the friendship of the Indians, however. While Bacon was gone upon his expedition against the Ockinagees, the Governor sent forces under Colonel Claiborne and others to the headwaters of Pamunkey River. They found there the Pamunkey Indians established in a fort in the Dragon Swamp—probably somewhere between the present Essex and King and Queen Counties. The red men said that they had fled to this stronghold for fear of Bacon, but their explanation did not satisfy the Governor, who declared that as soon as his difficulty with Bacon was settled he would advance upon the fort himself. The Queen of Pamunkey herself was in the fort, and when requested by Berkeley to return to

her usual place of residence said "she most willingly would return to be under the Governor's protection, but that she did understand the Governor and those gentlemen could not protect themselves from Mr. Bacon's violence."

At the "freshes of York" Bacon was met and joined by "all the northern forces from Potomac, Rappahannock, and those parts," under the command of Colonel Giles Brent, and the two armies marched together to the plantations farthest up York River, where they were brought to an enforced rest by rainy weather, which continued for several days. Even this dismal interruption could not chill Bacon's ardor, but it filled him with anxiety lest the delay should cause his provisions to run short.

Calling his men together he told them frankly of his fears, and gave all leave to return to their homes whose regard for food was stronger than their courage and resolution to put down the savages, and revenge the blood of their friends and neighbors shed by them. He bade them (if there were any such) with all speed begone,

for, said he, he knew he would find them the "worst of cowards, serving for number and not for service," starving his best men, who were willing to "bear the brunt of it all," and disheartening others of "half mettle."

In response to this speech, only three of the soldiers withdrew, and these were disarmed and sent home.

The sullen clouds at length lifted, and the army tramped joyfully onward. Ere long they struck into an Indian trail, leading to a wider one, and supposed from this that they must be near the main camp of some tribe. Some scouts were sent out, but reported only a continuation of the wide path through the woods. The army broke ranks and, to save time, and make the rough march under the sultry August sun as little uncomfortable as possible, followed the trail at random. They soon came in sight of a settlement of the Pamunkey tribe, standing upon a point of high land, surrounded upon three sides by a swamp.

Some ten Indian scouts who served Bacon's army were sent ahead to

reconnoiter. The Pamunkeys, seeing the scouts, suffered them to come within range of their guns, and then opened fire upon them. The report of the guns gave the alarm to Bacon and his troops, who were about half a mile distant, and who marched in great haste and confusion to the settlement. The Indians took refuge in the edge of the swamp, which was so miry that their pursuers could not follow, and the only result of the chase, to the Englishmen, was the not over-glorious feat of killing a woman and capturing a child.

It so happened that the "good Queen of Pamunkey," as the "Royal Commissioners" styled her, with some of her chiefs and friends, was in the neighborhood of the settlement. Being warned that Bacon and his men were coming, she took fright and fled, leaving behind her provisions and Indian wares, as a peace offering, and charging her subjects that if they saw any "pale faces" coming they must "neither fire a gun nor draw an arrow upon them." The "pale faces," in their chase, overtook an aged squaw who had been the "good