University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

Our hero reached Jamestown late on the very
morning when the couriers arrived in such rapid
succession, with the startling intelligence of the
Indian massacres. All night he had wandered
over the peninsula, vainly endeavouring to discover
his way; light after light shot up amidst the
surrounding gloom, and more than once he had
been misled by these, almost into the very clutches
of the swarming savages. His heart sank within
him as he saw plantation after plantation, in their
complete possession; the illumination of their incendiary
trophies lighting up the whole surrounding
country. It seemed indeed to his startled
senses as if the Indians had simultaneously risen
upon and butchered the whole white population of
the colony. With the exception of a small remnant,
they had already once perpetrated the like
horrible deed, and he again saw in his imagination
the dreadful scenes of that well remembered night.
Feeble old men, women and children indiscriminately
butchered—perhaps Virginia, whom he once
again dared to think of, among the number. True,
Wyanokee had assured him otherwise, but might
not the grand council have determined upon the

deed at the more appropriate time of their nightly
meeting?

As the dawning day unfolded to his view the
relative bearings of the country, these gloomy
anticipations were partly realized. Every avenue
to the city, both by land and water, was
crowded with people of all sexes, colours and conditions,
flying to the protection of the Fort. Wagons,
carts, negroes, and white bondsmen, were
laden with furniture, provisions, and valuables.
Ever and anon a foaming charger flew swiftly by,
bearing some Cavalier to the city, doubly armed for
retributive vengeance. By these he was greeted
and cheered upon his way, as well as informed of
the depredations committed in the neighbourhood
whence they had come. From one of these also
he procured a horse, and joined a cavalcade of his
associates and friends, proceeding to the same
centre of attraction. To them also he unfolded
so much of his recent adventures as related to the
general interests of the colony. Long, loud, and
vindicative were their denunciations, as well of
the treacherous savages as the stubborn old man
at the head of affairs in the colony.

Although evident traces of his late bodily sufferings
were perceptible in Bacon's countenance, no
vestige of his mental hallucinations on one particular
theme was perceived; his mind was intently
occupied upon the all absorbing topic of common
safety. As they proceeded together to the
city, it was proposed to him to assume the command

of a volunteer regiment, which they undertook
to raise as soon as they arrived in Jamestown.
His military talents and daring bravery were already
well known by most of his associates, but he
doubted whether he was the most proper person
in the colony to assume so responsible a command.
As to his own personal feelings, never did fortune
throw the chance of honourable warfare more
opportunely in the way of a desperate man. True,
it would have come still more seasonably twenty-four
hours sooner, but then he would only have been
better qualified for some desperate deed of personal
daring, not for a command upon which hung the
immediate fate of all the colonists, and the ultimate
supremacy of the whites in Virginia. He promised,
however, to accede to their proposal, provided,
after the regiment was raised, in which he must
be considered a volunteer, the majority cheerfully
tendered him their suffrages. He stated the hostility
of the Governor to him personally, without
enlightening them as to its most recent cause; but
they were now as resolute upon disregarding the
feelings and wishes of Sir William, as he had already
shown himself in disregarding their own. In
short, they resolved at once to assume that authority
to protect their lives and property, which they
now felt, if they had never before known, was an
inalienable right. Here was sown the first germ
of the American revolution. Men have read the
able arguments—the thrilling declamations, the
logical defence of natural and primitive rights,
which the men of '76 put forth to the world, with
wonder at the seeming intuitive wisdom that burst
so suddenly upon the world at the very exigency
which called it into action. But in our humble
opinion, the inception of these noble sentiments
was of much earlier date—their development not
so miraculous as we would like to flatter ourselves.
Exactly one hundred years before the American
revolution, there was a Virginian revolution based
upon precisely similar principles. The struggle
commenced between the representatives of the
people and the representatives of the king. The
former had petitioned for redress, “time after
time,”—remonstrance after remonstrance had been
sent in to Sir William Berkley, but he was deaf
to all their reasonable petitions. The Cavaliers
and citizens of the colony now arrived at the
infant capital, resolved to take upon themselves
as much power as was necessary for the defence
of life, freedom, and property. While the gathering
multitude flocked to the State House and public
square in immense numbers, Bacon alighted at
the Berkley Arms, in order to change his dress,
and before he joined them, perform one act of duty
which it would have been difficult for him to say
whether it was anticipated with most pain or
pleasure. It was a visit to Mrs. Fairfax and her
daughter. He walked immediately from the hotel
to the quarters usually occupied by the servants
of the Fairfax family, in hopes of finding O'Reily
—to despatch for his effects, which he supposed
he could not obtain in person, without suddenly
and unpreparedly exposing himself to the notice
of the family. But the house was silent as the
tomb! No gently curling smoke issued from the
chimney; no cheering light broke in at the windows;
all was dark, noiseless, and desolate. The
domestic animals still lingered around their accustomed
haunts, apparently as sad in spirit as he
who stood with his arms folded gazing upon the
deserted mansion. The streets were indeed crowded
with the eager and tumultuous throng, but after
the first unsuccessful essay at the door of the
servant's hall, he had passed round into the garden
of the establishment, and stood as we have
described him, a melancholy spectator of the painful
scene. There hung Virginia's bird cage against
the casings of the window, perhaps placed by her
own hands on the morning of the unfortunate catastrophe,
but the little songster was lying dead upon
the floor. The blooming flowers around her windows
hung in the rich maturity of summer, but
seemed to mock the desolation around with their
gay liveries. The dogs indeed lazily wagged their
tails at his presence, and fawned upon him, but
they too, slunk away in succession, as if conscious
of the rupture which had taken place in his relations
with the family.

What a flood of tender recollections rushed upon
his memory as he stood thus solitary in the flower
garden of her who was the sole object of his youthful
and romantic dreams, and gazed upon the well

known objects,—each one the memento of some
childish sport or pleasure. There too stood the
shaded seats and bowers of more mature adventures,
redolent of the richest fruits and flowers,
and teeming with the hallowed recollection of
love's young dream. Nor were tears wanting to
the memory of that early friend and patron who
had given him shelter in his helpless days, from
the cold neglect and inhospitality of the world,
and thus, perhaps, saved him the degradation of a
support at the public expense. These softened
and subdued emotions humanized the savage mood
which sprung up from similar reminiscences on a
previous occasion. The current of his feelings
had been changed by a single ray of hope. The
fountain was not now wholly poisoned, and the
sweet water turned to gall and bitterness. The
scene therefore, painful and melancholy as it was,
produced beneficial results. But he marvelled
that the house should be so totally deserted. He
supposed that the lady and her daughter might be
sojourning for a time with the Governor, but what
had become of their numerous domestics? They
too could not be quartered at the gubernatorial
mansion. And above all, what had become of his
own Hibernian follower? Certainly, he was not
thus provided for. He knew his privileged servant's
warm partialities and hatreds too well to believe
that he had accepted any hospitality from his
master's bitterest enemy. At that moment a servant
of the Berkley Arms was passing, and having
called him into the garden, Bacon raised a window
leading to his own apartments, procured such of
his garments as he most needed, and despatched
them to the hotel. When he had encased himself
in these, somewhat to his own satisfaction (and
most young Cavaliers in those days wore their garments
after a rakish fashion) he sallied out to perform
the duty which he felt to be most incumbent
on him. He knocked at the door of Sir William
Berkley's mansion, with very different feelings
from any he had before experienced on a similar
occasion. The relations so lately discovered to
exist between himself and those for whom his visit
was intended, as well as his feelings toward those
who had the right of controlling in some measure
the persons admitted to visit at the mansion, awakened
anxious thoughts not a little heightened by the
anticipation of meeting Beverly, with whom an unexpected
interview promised few agreeable emotions.
The family seemed determined too that he
should have the benefit of all these reflections, from
the length of time they kept him standing in the
street. At length the porter opened the door with
many profound inclinations of the head, still standing
however full within the entrance, and continuing
his over wrought politeness. “Is Mrs. Fairfax
within?” was the inquiry.

“She is dead! may it please your honour!”

“Dead!” uttered Bacon with a hoarse and trembling
voice. “When and how?”

“His Excellency has just received the news—

she was murdered last night at his country seat by
the Indians.”

“Was Miss — was his niece there also?” he
asked with a bewildered doubt whether he had better
inquire any further.

“No, Sir, she lies ill of a fever up stairs. Dr.
Roland scarcely ever leaves her room, except to
tell Master Frank the state of his patient.”

“I will enter for a moment and speak a few
words with the good doctor.”

“Pardon me, your honour, it gives me great
pain to refuse any gentleman admittanee, but my
orders are positive from Sir William himself to
admit no one to the sick room, and above all not
to admit your honour within these doors. I have
over and over again turned away Miss Harriet, who
seems as if she would weep her eyes out, poor
lady, at my young mistress' illness and the Governor's
cruelty, as she calls it.”

“I see you have a more tender heart than your
master; here is gold for you, not to bribe you
against your duty or inclinations; but you will
fully earn it by informing Dr. Roland that Mr.
Bacon wishes to speak with him for five minutes
at the Arms, upon business of the last importance.”

“I will tell him, sir; but I do not think he will
go, because he has himself given the strictest injunctions
that your name shall not be whispered in
the room, or even in the house. No longer than
this morning, sir, she heard them announce the
death of her mother down stairs. Her hearing is

indeed extraordinary, sir, considering her so poorly.
Since that she has been much worse.”

Bacon did not choose to expose himself to the
chance of insult any longer by meeting some of the
male members of the family, he therefore took
his departure from the inhospitable mansion, and
skirted round the unfrequented streets, in order to
avoid the immense multitude collected in the
square and more frequented passages. He could
hear the shouts and cheering which echoed against
the houses as he proceeded, but little did he imagine
that they welcomed his own nomination to
the responsible station of commander to the colonial
forces. His intention was to proceed to the
Arms, and there await the arrival of the doctor;
but he no sooner entered the porch than he was
seized by the hand in the well known and sympathizing
grasp of Dudley.

While the friends were yet uttering their words
of greeting, and before they had propounded one
of the many questions which they desired to ask,
Bacon was seized under each arm with a rule, but
not disrespectful familiarity—saluted by the title of
General, and borne off toward the state house in
spite alike of remonstrances and entreaties.

It was with great difficulty they could gain the
square, so dense was the barricade of ox carts loaded
with furniture, and wagons thronged with negro
children; while families in carriages and on horseback,
and thousands of the multitude promiscuously
huddled together, increased the difficulty of

making way. Since he had heard the startling
news of the death of Mrs. Fairfax, his mind was
more than ever bent upon joining the proposed
expedition; and had it not been for the interruption
to the anticipated meeting with the Doctor, no one
could have appeared upon the rostrum with greater
alacrity.

The contumaceous conduct of the Governor toward
the respectful remonstrances and petitions of
the citizens, and more especially his unwarranted
and disrespectful treatment of himself, recurred
to his mind in good time. He mounted the rude
platform hastily erected in front of the state
house, burning with indignation, and glowing with
patriotism.[1] “He thanked the people for the unexpected
and unmerited honour they had just conferred
upon him. He accepted the office tendered
to him with alacrity, and none the less so
that yonder stubborn old man will not endorse it
with his authority, and sanction our proceeding under
the ordinary forms of law. What has produced
this simultaneous explosion in the colony?
What are the circumstances which can thus array
all the wealth, intelligence and respectability of
the people against the constituted authorities. Let
your crippled commerce, your taxed, overburdened
and deeply wronged citizens answer? The
first has been embarrassed by acts of parliament,
which originated here, the most severe, arbitrary
and unconstitutional, while your citizens

both gentle and hardy, have been enormously and
indiscriminately taxed in order to redeem your
soil from the immense and illegal grants to unworthy
and sometimes non-resident favourites.

“There was a time when both Cavalier and yeoman
dared to be free; when your assembly, boldly
just to their constituents, scrupled not to contend
with majesty itself in defence of our national and
chartered rights. But melancholy is the contrast
which Virginia at this time presents. The right
of suffrage which was coeval with the existence of
the colony, which had lived through the arbitrary
reign of James, and with a short interruption
through that of the first Charles, which was again
revived during the commonwealth, and was considered
too sacred to be touched even by the impure
hands of the Protector, is now sacrilegiously
stolen from you during a season of profound peace
and security.

“The mercenary soldiers, sent from the mother
country at an immense expense to each of you, fellow-citizens,
where are they? Revelling upon the
fat of the land at distant and unthreatened posts,
while our fathers, and mothers, and brothers, and
sisters, are butchered in cold blood by the ruthless
savage. Where is now the noble and generous
Fairfax, the favourite of the rich and the poor?
Where his estimable and benevolent lady? Murdered
under the silent mouths of the rusty cannon
which surmount yonder palisade. Look at his
sad and melancholy mansion, once the scene of

generous hospitality to you all—behold its deserted
halls and darkened windows. But this is only
the nearest evidence before our eyes—within the
last twenty-four hours hundreds of worthy citizens
have shared the same fate.

“Shall these things be longer borne, fellow-citizens?”

“No! no! no!” burst from the multitude—
“down with the Governor, and extermination to
the Indians.”

He continued. “Already I see a noble band
of mounted youths, the sons of your pride and
your hopes—flanked by a proud little army of
hardier citizens; from these I would ask a pledge,
that they never lay down their arms, till their
grievances are redressed.”—

“We swear—we swear,” responded from all,
and then, three cheers for General Bacon, made
the welkin ring. At this juncture the trumpet,
drum, and fife, were heard immediately behind the
crowd, and a party of the royal guard, some fifty
in number, halted upon the outskirts of the assemblage,
while their officer undertook to read a
proclamation from the Governor, ordering the mob,
as he was pleased to style the meeting, to disperse
under penalty of their lives and property. The
army of the people, already getting under arms,
immediately commenced an evolution by which
the temporary commander of the mounted force
would have been thrown directly fronting the
guard, and between them and the multitude. Bacon

saw the intended movement, and instantly
countermanded the orders, “Let the people,” said
he, “deal with this handful of soldiers; we will
not weaken our force, and waste our energies by
engaging in intestine broils, when our strength is so
much called for by the enemies of our race upon
the frontiers.” The suggestion was immediately
adopted; before the hireling band could bring their
weapons to the charge, the multitude had closed in
upon them, and disarmed them to a man. This accomplished,
they were taken to the beach, in spite
of the remonstrances of many of the more staid
and sober of the Cavaliers and citizens, and there
soundly ducked. Very unmilitary indeed was
their appearance, as they were marshalled into
battle array, all drooping and wet, and thus marched
to the music of an ignominious tune to the front
of the Governor's house.

The frantic passion of Sir William Berkley can
be more easily imagined than described. He saw
that he was left almost alone—that those citizens
most remarkable for their loyalty had deserted
him. However wilful and perverse, he saw the necessity
of making temporary concessions, although
at the same time more than ever bent upon summary
vengeance against the most conspicuous leaders
of the opposing party whenever chance or fortune
should again place the real power of the
colony in his hands. At present he felt that he
was powerless—the very means which he had
taken to thwart and provoke the people now became

the source of the bitterest regret to himself,
namely—sending the mercenary soldiers of the
crown to distant posts on fictitious emergencies.
He resolved therefore to disguise his real feelings
until the departure of the popular army, when he
could recall his own regular troops, and thus take
signal vengeance upon such of the agitators as
should be left behind, and thence march immediately
to the subjugation of the force commanded
by Bacon. Scarcely had the presence of the dripping
guard, as seen through his window, suggested
these ideas, before an opportunity offered of putting
in practice his temporary forbearance.

A committee was announced, at the head of
which was Mr. Harrison, his former friend and
supporter—they were the bearers of a conciliatory
letter from General Bacon. In this letter the
young commander in chief, in accordance with
the suggestions of the older Cavaliers, respectfully
announced his election to the command of the volunteer
army, and concluded by requesting the
Governor to heal all existing breaches by sanctioning
his own appointment, as well as that of the
appended list of young Cavaliers, to the various
stations annexed to their names; and that no delay
might occur in the pursuit of the enemy, an immediate
answer was requested. The stout old
Cavalier was ready to burst with ill suppressed
rage as he marked the cool and respectful tone of
this epistle, coming from one he most cordially

detested and despised, both on public and private
grounds.

The committee waited until he had penned his
answer, which was cold and formal, but polite.
In it he declined signing the commissions in the
absence of the council, but promised to convene it
early on the ensuing day, when he stated that he
would despatch a courier after the army, if the
council thought proper to approve of the popular
proceedings. He promised also to dismantle the
distant forts, and immediately to call in the foreign
troops for the defence of the capital.

With this answer, the committee, he to whom it
was addressed, and the populace were well satisfied.
It really promised more than they had expected
of the obstinate old Governor. Little did
they dream of the lurking treachery in the old
man's heart, much less did they truly interpret
the equivocal language contained in the note itself,
concerning the foreign soldiers, and the defence
of the capital. Little did they imagine that they
themselves were the foes against whom he proposed
to employ the mercenaries.

The army now took up its line of march across
the bridge, amidst the cheers and blessings of the
multitude; men, women, and children following
them to the boundaries of the island.

Part of the force was sent up the river in sloops,
in order to co-operate with the main army in their
design of driving the tribes scattered along the

water courses of the peninsula, to a common point
of defence, and thus forcing them, if possible, into
an open, general, and decisive engagement. The
youthful commander in chief was intimately acquainted
with all the localities between the seat
of government, and the falls of the river, (where
Richmond now stands,) and he very ingeniously
arranged his forces by land and water, so that he
might at the same time drive the treacherous
enemy before him through the peninsula, and
avoiding a premature battle, concentrate the enemy
at the point already indicated. It was with
this general view, that one part of his force was
now sent up the river, while the other pursued
the route between the Chickahominy and the
Pamunky rivers. These general views were discussed,
and the plan decided upon at a council of
war, held on the main land, immediately after the
troops had passed the bridge. Bacon having imparted
to Charles Dudley, his Aid-de-Camp, such
orders as the emergency required, turned his horse's
head again toward the bridge, and retraced his steps
to Jamestown.