University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER V.

At the age of twenty-five, Charles ascended the
throne left vacant by the death of his father. The
life of this unhappy prince seems to embrace every
thing necessary to warn both monarchs and subjects:—monarchs,
against the exercise of oppressive
powers bequeathed by their ancestors;—subjects,
against the rash use of their sacred right of revolution.
Had he been born in an humble condition,
and had he lived amid the refined enjoyments of
private life, his dignity of manner, his affectionate
temper, his social virtues, would all have combined
to render him useful, beloved, and happy. But he
was born a king,—and for this he lived in tumult

and ceaseless conflict, and died upon a scaffold
erected by hands, which might have been joined in
asking benedictions upon a sovereign possessing
power less ample and more strictly defined. He
received from the unsteady grasp of James a ponderous
crown, worn in triumph by Henry and Elizabeth,
but crushing in its pressure upon brows
less firm and unyielding. He fell a victim to an
expansive power in the minds of his people, rather
than to tyrannous dispositions in his own heart.
He fell, not because he desired to oppress, but because
he knew not how to yield. He asserted principles,
and claimed rights far less stringent than
those of many of his predecessors; but he did this
at the fatal time when man had learned his own
natural nobility, and could receive nothing as belonging
to the constitution of his country that contravened
the great rules of original justice.

Had Charles not fallen by the hands of his people,
posterity would have pronounced him an injudicious
and uncompromising monarch,—willing to
oppress his subjects for his own private benefit, to
sacrifice his friends for his own selfish interests,
and to put in motion tyrannous engines to secure
what he regarded as lawful ends. But the blood
which flowed beneath the axe of his executioner
has atoned for many faults; the premature grave to
which he was consigned has entombed many of his
most flagrant errors; and infatuated as was his
conduct, we cannot look upon his fate without
deep commiseration. The art of his apologist
was not required, to cause tears to fall upon the

tomb of a husband so exemplary, a father so tender
and devoted, a friend so willing to serve, so
reluctant to betray.[1]

The young King did not leave the colonists long
in suspense as to the principles upon which he intended
to govern them. He issued several proclamations,
in which he declared that, after mature
thought, he had adopted the views of his father
concerning them; and he ascribed all their misfortunes
to the government of the corporate democracy
which had but just fallen in ruins. He declared
his intention to govern them by the council which
James had instituted, consisting of men appointed
by, and responsible to, his majesty alone.[2] (April
9.) He confirms the monopoly of tobacco granted
under the advice of Parliament to the Virginia and
Somer Island Companies;[3] but, being already
pressed by that want of money which was the
proximate cause of his ruin, he sought to supply
it in a mode highly injurious to the colonists.
(May 13.) He assumed the position of a royal
factor, decided that he was substituted to all the
rights of the deceased London Company, and demanded
that every pound of tobacco brought from
the colonies should be committed to his agents,

who gave a certain price to the owners and secured
a heavy profit for the crown.[4]

The governor and council for the colony appointed
by the crown were invested with powers
as ample as Henry VIII. could have desired.
They were to make laws and provide for their
execution, to impose taxes and enforce their payment,
to seize the property of the late Company
wherever they could obtain it, and to send colonists
for trial to England whenever they thought
it expedient.[5] No notice whatever was taken of
the representative government, which had been
regularly established in Virginia. Whether the
King thought it unwise directly to overturn a system
to which the people were so much attached,
or whether he deemed it too feeble to be dangerous,
we do not certainly know; but he undoubtedly
left alive the infant who was now fast
growing into the full proportions and intelligence
of vigorous manhood.[6]

From the arbitrary theories advanced by the
King, we might naturally infer that the settlers
immediately felt the hand of oppression bearing
heavily upon them; but this was not the case: the
people continued true to their duties, quiet in their
deportment, yet firm in the assertion of their rights.
Habits of industry and sober living had gained

ground among them. They had already tasted the
sweets of rational freedom, and were not disposed to
forfeit them, either by seditious tumult or by unworthy
indolence. We note with surprise and pleasure
a proof of their firmness. Edward Sharples, who
had received an ignominious punishment for his
treachery in 1624, appealed to the Privy Council;
the King took his part, and sternly rebuked the provincial
government, yet they met his proclamation
with steady courage, and abated not in any respect
their sentence against this perfidious agent.[7]

It should also be remembered, that, notwithstanding
Charles's appointment of a new government,
the General Assembly continued to exist.
Usage had established it, and several expressions
in the King's messages were construed into a design
at least to connive at its existence. It had
already planted its roots too deeply in the hearts of
the people, to be torn out without a struggle. It
is true we have no authentic record of its proceedings
from 1624 to 1629;[8] but we have reason to believe
that during that time it had regular sessions,
and we find the Provincial Council often relying
upon and enforcing its enactments by their own
executive power.[9]

The hostility of the Indians continued unabated.

Memory called up in the bosoms, both of natives
and of colonists, a dark record of injuries sustained,
and of insult unavenged. Even the wavering
Opitchapan was compelled to take the field, and at
the head of eight hundred bowmen of the tribe of
Pamunky, and a large number from surrounding
clans, he boldly offered battle to the English.
Francis Wyatt, in person, led on the whites. A
conflict took place in the neighbourhood of Pamunky,
and from all that we can gather concerning
an event veiled in singular obscurity, we believe
that the savages were defeated with heavy
loss, and that the colonists were only prevented
from marching upon Mattapony by want of ammunition.[10] It seemed vain now to hope for any permanent
peace between the contending parties, until
one or the other should be totally disabled; and in
a contest between knowledge and ignorance, the
result could not long be in doubt.

(1626.) Sir Francis Wyatt had proved himself
a good governor and a steady friend to the interests
of the colony. The death of his father called for
his presence in Ireland,[11] and on leaving Virginia,
Sir George Yeardley assumed his place. The
name of this latter gentleman was sufficient to
assure the settlers that their rights would be respected
and their welfare secured. He had brought
the original authority for a General Assembly from
England in 1619, and at all times he had shown a

sensitive desire for the prevalence of the free principle
in the colony. His health was delicate, but
his mind was fully adequate to his task; and under
his administration, Virginia increased rapidly in
wealth and population. In one year a thousand
emigrants arrived, confidence gathered strength,
the soil was cleared, bread-stuffs were in demand,
and the colony wore the aspect of a very vigorous
and thriving community.[12] (1627, Nov.) But unhappily,
in the midst of his usefulness, the governor
was stricken down by death, leaving behind
him a name unstained by any gross vices, and so
dear to the people over whom he had presided, that
their grief found vent in a eulogy upon his virtues,
immediately transmitted in a letter to the Privy
Council in England.[13]

On the death of Yeardley, the Council, in pursuance
of a power expressly granted them by the
King's proclamation,[14] proceeded to elect his successor,
and Captain Francis West receiving a majority
of votes, was duly installed into office (Nov.
14). But his career was distinguished for nothing
but its brevity; it is probable he died early in the
succeeding year, as we find in the records of the
state the name of John Potts as governor, who

must have been elected about the beginning of
1628.[15]

(1628.) The striking event of this year was the
session of the General Assembly, expressly ordered
by the King himself, to take into consideration certain
proposals made to the settlement in behalf of
his majesty. In the previous year he had sent
them a curious letter, in which he indulges his
royal wit in some keen observations at the expense
of the weed which formed the staple of Virginia.
He tells them that their prosperity rested upon an
unstable basis; that it was "built on smoke, and
would easily turn into air, if either English tobacco
should be planted or Spanish imported."[16] He
urges them to turn their labour to pipe-staves, pot-ashes,
iron, vines, and bay salt, rather than to this
hateful commodity; but finally, should they absolutely
refuse to give up tobacco, he modestly proposes
that he shall be made their sole factor, and
shall take it all at three shillings per pound; of
which, one shilling and threepence were to be
paid in cash upon its receipt.[17] To these overtures
the Assembly were now to give a reply, and we
find no hesitation in their conduct. With due respect,
yet with unshaken firmness, they declined
the proposals of the King, adhered to their staple,

which men were now prone to consider almost
essential to comfort, and refused to permit the price
to be settled by any rule other than that inflexible
law imposed by the relation of supply and demand.

During this year arrived in Virginia, a nobleman,
whose life and fortunes have had a material
influence upon the American Republic. George
Calvert, Lord Baltimore, was beloved by James
and by his son for his firm devotion to their interests
as monarchs; and candour compels us to
add, he was respected and revered by all good men
for his commanding talents, his industry in office,
his steady adherence to principle, and his spotless
purity in the discharge of responsible trusts. In
1624, he declared himself a Roman Catholic upon
serious conviction, and immediately resigned his
lucrative office under the English government.[18]
King James, always sufficiently partial to popery,
was so much affected by this conduct of his favourite,
that he continued his name on the list of his
Privy Council, and conferred upon him the title
which himself and his descendants so long retained.
Wishing to plant a colony in the new world which
should be an asylum both for his friends and his
religion, he obtained a grant of the southeastern
peninsula of Newfoundland.[19] But the hostility of
the French and the rigour of the climate so discouraged
him, that he abandoned his settlement,
after having expended much care and money in its
foundation, and came to Virginia, hoping to find

in her genial air and fertile soil the means of effecting
his desires.[20]

But here a difficulty awaited him, which had
not been expected. The Church of England was
regularly established by law; and the express requirements
of the King, in the several charters
given to the colony, demanded that all should take
the oath of supremacy in the fullest and most unequivocal
terms.[21] The freedom enjoyed by Americans
since the Revolution, as to all religious tests
and obligations, may cause us to look with pain
upon restrictive measures applied to the human
conscience; yet, under the existing circumstances,
we cannot be surprised that the colonial government
should have regarded with distrust a wealthy
and influential nobleman, professing a creed, which
not merely ascribes to man the infallible judgment
of God, but subjects every papist, in every country,
and under every national rule, to the paramount
temporal authority of the Roman Pontiff.[22] On his
lordship's arrival, the test act was brought forward,
and the oath of supremacy tendered to him in the
ample form prescribed by the law then in force.
He refused to take it, but tendered for himself and
his Catholic followers a modified form of the oath,
in which he promised all obedience consistent with
his rights of conscience. This the Council declined,

and referred the whole matter to the Privy
Council in the mother country.

Lord Baltimore was greatly charmed with the
appearance and native advantages of Virginia.
He sailed up the Chesapeake, and navigated the
noble river which then bounded most of the settlements
of the colony. Observing that the beautiful
country north of the Potomac had then few or no
European inhabitants, he determined to seek from
the King a grant covering this region, and to plant
in it a colony according to his own just and expanded
views of colonial policy. He returned to
England, and easily obtained from a partial monarch
a charter, containing within its broad folds
many thousand acres of land, long since fully conveyed
by the patents of James, and claimed by the
Virginia Colony on the basis of a title, alike well
grounded in law, in justice, and in the common
consent of mankind.[23] But it would be premature
now to enter more fully upon this grant. We
shall meet again with the name of Calvert and the
title of Baltimore, when we reach the period of the
settlement of a sister state, whom Virginia has not
loved the less because her portion was first assigned
to her by an act of regal usurpation, committed
on the fair domain of the elder settlement.

During the remainder of this year we note little
of importance, except another session of the Assembly
and an irruption of the Pamunky and Chickahominy
Indians, attended with considerable loss

to the English. One of the most gloomy consequences
of this state of hostility, now permanently
established, was the almost entire destruction of
good faith between the belligerents. The Indians
had never exhibited it; but the whites soon vied
with them in perfidy, inviting them to conferences
only to cut them off when unprepared, and offering
them peace to fall upon them when disarmed.
The natives were speedily undeceived, and never
again trusted to their enemies' assertions, whatever
solemnities might attend them.[24]

(1629.) Early in the next year came the new
Governor, Sir John Hervey, from England, bringing
a broad commission and ample powers from
his royal master. Concerning this officer's character
and conduct, disputes have arisen and doubts
have prevailed, which will probably never be
finally determined, until we shall obtain clearer
light upon the transactions of this the most obscure
period of colonial history.[25] It is certain, however,
that he was one of the commissioners who visited
the colony in 1624, to aid King James in his purposes
against the Company; and from this we
fairly infer, that neither was Hervey very acceptable

to the settlers, nor were his own feelings towards
them of the most cordial character. During
the ten years in which, with few intermissions, he
governed the colony, he often adopted stern measures,
and encountered opposition from the Assemblies
which frequently sat in the course of his
period of dominion. It is probable that he was a
man fond of money, and little scrupulous as to the
means of obtaining it; for we find bitter complaints
of his appropriating fines to his own use, and levying
taxes unauthorized by the legislature, and the
proceeds of which were turned into his private
coffers.[26] Another trait, scarcely less odious, was
his bigotry, which led him to enforce with absolute
rule the laws providing for the Church, to require
rigid conformity in all, and to revive obsolete
demands for religious observances, greatly to the
annoyance of the mass of the colonists.[27]

Yet, with all his faults, Hervey had some qualities
which made him useful and respectable in his
station. He carefully supervised the military plans
of the settlement; caused a fort to be erected at
Point Comfort, well placed for defending the mouth
of the river; encouraged the manufacture of salt-petre
and potash; revived the salt works at Accomac,
which had long been neglected; established
semi-monthly courts at Jamestown; and, notwithstanding
his own vices, with an inconsistency but
too common to human nature, he sought to infuse
into the laws most wholesome precepts as to

morality and religion.[28] In the year 1630, we note,
with surprise and pain, a prosecution against Dr.
John Pott, the late governor, on a charge of stealing
cattle, which resulted in his conviction, and he
was only saved by a reprieve from ignominious
punishment.[29] The governor fostered with care a
spirit of maritime enterprise; sent out an expedition
to trade between the thirty-fourth and forty-first
degrees of latitude; and most cordially invited
the people who had settled in New England, to
desert their cold and barren soil, and take refuge
in the more genial climes of Virginia and Delaware.[30]

Whatever may have been the wishes of Hervey
as to taxation, it is certain that the General Assembly
never submitted to any claims of this character
not warranted by their own assent. In the
session of 1631, we find a bold and lucid declaration,
denying to the chief executive officer the
right to levy any impost without the concurrence
of the legislature; and enacting that, in future,
the governor should have no power to enforce the
services of colonists for his own private benefit,
or to levy them for war without the consent of the
Council. We have reason to believe, that Hervey
gave his constitutional vote for this law, which
was too just and too popular to be safely rejected.[31]

But the cause which has been urged, with
greatest effect, for the odium into which the governor
finally fell, seems to have been his culpable
coalition with King Charles and his favourites, in
encroachments upon the public domain of the colony.
As early as the year 1630, Charles granted
to Sir Robert Heath an immense tract of country,
beginning at the thirty-sixth parallel of latitude,
and running south so far as to embrace almost
the whole of the territory now occupied by the
Southern States of our Union. This huge grant
compromised many vested rights in Virginia; but,
as it was not proceeded upon for several years, it
never became a source of discontent.[32] During
Hervey's administration, several patents were
granted by the English sovereign, interfering materially
with prior claims under the colonial patents;
and the governor is, with good reason, supposed
to have derived pecuniary profit from his
connivance at these usurpations.[33] But at length a
more serious inroad was made upon the broad lands
of Virginia.

George, the first Lord Baltimore, died in April,
1632. But the patent prepared for the father, was
immediately assigned to the son, Cecelius Calvert,
who inherited the dignity of manner, the purity of
morals, and the religious prepossessions of his sire.
By this patent, Charles calmly granted the magnificent
tract of country lying on both sides of the

Bay of Chesapeake and north of the Potomac, running
up to the fortieth parallel of latitude, from the
point where it strikes the first fountain of the river
even to the Atlantic Ocean.[34] Under this grant,
Leonard Calvert prepared for a settlement. The
whole tract was clearly within the limits of Virginia;
and though it may be that few settlers had
yet planted themselves north of the Potomac, yet
that fact did not in any manner give to the King
the right to dispose of land which could only be
lawfully obtained by regular deeds, under the seal
of the provincial authorities. Early in the year
1634, Calvert, with two hundred persons of good
families, and of the Roman Catholic creed, arrived
in America, and proceeded to Jamestown to pay
their respects to existing powers. The Governor
and Council received them courteously, but it was
distinctly announced to them that their grant was
considered an encroachment upon the rights of
Virginia. They then sailed up the Chesapeake,
and laid the foundations of a state, upon which,
in honour of the Queen, Henrietta Maria, they bestowed
the name of Maryland.[35]

Difficulties speedily presented themselves. A

turbulent character, named William Claiborne,
who had at one time been a member of the Virginia
Council, had obtained from King Charles a
license, authorizing him to traffic in parts of the
colony for which no prior license existed. Under
this power, he had settled himself with a band of
followers upon Kent's Island, near the present site
of Annapolis; and, when summoned by Calvert,
he sternly refused to submit to his jurisdiction.
Hostilities immediately commenced. Claiborne
was captured, and, being brought to trial, he was
found guilty upon the grave charges of murder,
piracy, and sedition. But, finding means of escape,
he fled to Virginia, and voluntarily surrendered
himself to Sir John Hervey, who, after some
delay and indecision, sent him to England for final
trial.[36]

The people of Virginia, though willing to extend
to the settlers in Maryland the hand of friendship,
had always regarded their grant as a serious encroachment
upon their own rights. The Governor
was looked upon as secretly favourable to the views
of the King. A short time before this we find him
paying an amicable visit to Calvert, and communing
with him freely as to his future plans.[37]
His treatment of Claiborne gave great offence.
Many thought that the rights of this agitator ought

to be upheld; and that his settlement on Kent's
Island, being in accordance with a prior authority
from Charles, could not be affected by the subsequent
grant to Maryland. This seems to have
been the prominent ground of complaint against
Hervey.[38] But it is altogether probable that many
other sources of dissatisfaction concurred, for we
cannot believe that this alone would have produced
the violent explosion which soon followed. In
1635, we find an Assembly solemnly convened to
receive charges against the governor. Popular
feeling had risen high. Whatever causes had operated,
it is certain that Hervey was looked upon
with universal dislike,—that he was considered the
friend of tyranny, and the enemy of the people. In
a short time the Assembly met; and, after due deliberation,
they adopted a measure so bold and so
unprecedented, that nothing but undoubted testimony
could convince us of its truth. Sir John
Hervey was "thrust out of his government, and
Captain John West was to act as governor till the
King's pleasure be known."[39]

When the suspended governor was thus sent

back to his master, the Assembly deemed it expedient
to send commissioners, selected by themselves,
and supplied with a full body of evidence to sustain
every charge preferred against the accused.
But Charles regarded this whole proceeding with
unmingled disapprobation. Already his intractable
parliaments at home were entering upon that
series of fearless measures which finally arrayed
the King and the people in martial order against
each other. The unhappy monarch was vacillating
between his love of power and his fear of defeat—
his need of money and his dependence on his people
for aid,—and at such a period, each step of the popular
spirit in its onward course was regarded with
jealousy and pain. The King did not even condescend
to give audience to the commissioners of
the colony.[40] Their complaints were unheeded,
their charges were unheard. Without bringing
Hervey to trial, his partial sovereign reinstated him
in office, and sent him back to Virginia; giving to
the colonists the meagre solace of a commission, in
which the government was required to be administered
on the principles of the period during which
the Assembly had existed.[41]

From this time we hear of no complaints against
the governor. Experience may have taught him
moderation; and the salutary fear of assemblies
which regularly sat and acted upon the affairs of

the settlement, may have restrained his former propensities.
In 1639, he was quietly superseded by
Sir Francis Wyatt, who had previously governed
the colony with much satisfaction to its people
and honour to himself. His administration was
brief,—so brief, indeed, that it seems to have
escaped the notice of many of our most diligent
historians.[42] Yet, during its progress, certain laws
were enacted by the General Assembly, which, in
later years, have been misunderstood, misrepresented;
have drawn upon their authors the contempt
of some, the censure of others; but which,
when fully explained, furnish evidence of wisdom
and foresight, rather than of weakness and dishonesty.

(1639.) Let it be remembered, that at this time
Virginia and the Somer Isles enjoyed the exclusive
sale of tobacco in Britain. By reason of its excessive
production the price had fallen so low, that the
planters could neither subsist themselves, nor pay
their just debts, nor turn their labour to any other
staple. (Jan. 6.) Under these circumstances, the
Assembly passed a law requiring all the tobacco
raised this year to be viewed,—the whole of that
decayed and unmerchantable, and one-half of that
really good, to be burned.[43] Now, although this
weed was valueless to those who had not learned
to use it, yet with those who had become its votaries

it was almost necessary to existence. They
would give any price to obtain its odorous consolations.
Therefore the withdrawal of one-half the
usual quantity from market would immediately
enhance the value of the remainder in due proportion.
Thus far, then, none will object to the law
of the Assembly. But they go on, in the same
clause, to enact that all creditors, in payment of
their debts, should be compelled to receive forty
pounds of tobacco for one hundred formerly given;
and, immediately afterwards, that no man should
be obliged to perform more than half his covenants
for freighting tobacco in 1639.[44] Upon these provisions
great obloquy has been heaped. They have
been pronounced iniquitous and absurd, but they
will bear a rigid scrutiny. Tobacco was at this
time the medium of exchange in Virginia. Very
little metallic coin had found its way to the colony;
and the settlers did not hesitate to resort to the
practice of primitive ages, and to make currency of
an article convenient of access, and in universal
demand. Hence the necessity for guarding against
excess in its production, and against the use of
tobacco of inferior quality; for these causes would
affect commerce as injuriously as a plethora of bank
paper, or an influx of spurious coin. Now, when
the legislature required that more than one-half of
the existing supply should be destroyed, the necessary
effect was to render the remnant more than
doubly valuable to the holder; therefore, had the
planters still been held to the payment of their
debts at par, they would in fact have paid more
than double their amount. Thus, if a debtor owed
one hundred pounds of tobacco prior to 1639, when
the commodity might be worth three shillings per
pound, his debt might be estimated at fifteen pounds
sterling. But after 1639, the price would be perhaps
eight shillings per pound; and had he still
been compelled to pay one hundred pounds, he
would in fact pay to his creditor the sum of forty
pounds sterling in value. The injustice of this
must be obvious. The Assembly acted wisely and
equitably in their requirements. They did not
enhance the value of their coin, and still compel
debtors to meet the nominal amount of their dues;
but having really increased its value, they properly
adapted to it the corresponding amounts which
creditors might claim.[45]

In August of 1641, Charles appointed to the
direction of the affairs of Virginia a gentleman
whose name is inseparably interwoven with the
early destinies of our state. William Berkeley was
a cavalier of the most rigid and approved school
then known in the British realm; pure blood and
high connexions gave dignity to his name;[46] refined
manners and the ease imparted by long contact
with polite society, rendered his person acceptable
to all he encountered. He possessed the singular
and scarcely definable art, of enlisting alike the

confidence of the high and the low, the mighty and
the humble. Imbued with the very spirit of the
English gentleman, he knew how to avoid the extremes
of forbidding coldness or of dangerous
familiarity. He was valued by his friends for his
warm affections, and respected by his foes for his
upright demeanour. Yet with so much that was
excellent, he developed traits which tended powerfully
to lower what would otherwise have been a
truly lofty character. His loyalty was so excessive
that it blinded his eyes to the faults of a crowned
head, and steeled his heart against the prayers of
oppressed subjects. He could not tolerate the
least appearance of opposition to the rights claimed
by his King; and this feeling seems to have been
heightened, rather than diminished, by the growing
spirit of freedom that he marked among the
commons of the mother country. He loved the monarchical
constitution of England with simple fervour;
he venerated her customs, her church, her bishops,
her liturgy, every thing peculiar to her as a
kingdom; and believing them to be worthy of all acceptation,
he enforced conformity with uncompromising
sternness. Many virtuous propensities,
when urged to excess, become the sources of vicious
conduct. Had Sir William Berkeley descended to
his grave at the time when Charles II. gained the
English throne, we might with safety have trusted
to those historians who have drawn him as adorned
with all that could grace and elevate his species.[47]
But he lived long enough to prove that loyalty,
when misguided, will make a tyrant; that religious
zeal, when devoted to an established church,
will beget the most revolting bigotry; and that an
ardent disposition, when driven on by desire for
revenge, will give birth to the worst forms of
cruelty and malice.

(Aug. 9.) The commission issued by the King
to the new governor was, in many respects, liberal
and just to the colonists;[48] it recognised the existence
and rights of the Assembly, which had theretofore
been connived at rather than openly approved;
it encouraged the burgesses to unite cordially
with the governor, and to aid him in preparing
a new code of laws, and in adopting the
most salutary customs of the English realm. We
may imagine the pleasure felt by the settlers who
had thus guaranteed to them their much-loved
form of government, and who were at length
blessed with a head, apparently resolved to devote
all his energies to their welfare. Joy and harmony
prevailed; the people were full of love to the King,
and zeal for his service. Industrious habits had
long since become confirmed among them, and
though the bias of their origin still operated upon
their manners and their morals, yet they were no
longer excited to turbulence by want or by discord,
in their ruling councils. Amid so much of cheerfulness
and hope, they barely noticed one clause in

the commission to the governor, which savoured
strongly of a narrow and unjust policy, afterwards
carried into full effect under the Protectorate, and
in the reign of the second Charles. The King required
that all the commerce of the colony should
flow into or through the veins of the mother
country. To enforce this provision, Sir William
Berkeley was instructed to demand from the master
of every vessel trading from Virginia, a bond
obliging him to land his cargo, either immediately
in England, or in some other part of the king's
dominions in Europe.[49]

(1642.) In February the new governor arrived,
and assumed the reins of his colonial province.
Nearly his first act was to call a meeting of the
General Assembly; and in a short time this body
convened at Jamestown, full of joy because of the
favourable change in their affairs, and inspired
with gratitude to a king whom they believed to
be truly their benefactor. It having been represented
to them that George Sandys had presented
a petition to his majesty, praying the re-establishment
of the old London Corporation, and, acting
as though under the guidance of the colonial Assembly,
they immediately drew up a paper, called
"A Declaration against the Company," and transmitted
it to England, with the signatures of the
governor, the council, and nearly all the burgesses.
In this paper they protest vigorously against the
revival of the Company. Some have supposed

that their opposition was caused by their hatred of
the measures formerly adopted by this celebrated
body;[50] but impartial inquiry will convince us,
that they were moved rather by their newly-born
zeal for their monarch, than by any well-founded
arguments against the London Corporation.

With remarkable, perhaps we should add ungrateful,
inconsistency, we find them urging as a
reason against its revival, the prevalence of assemblies
under Charles, forgetting that to this much-injured
body was Virginia indebted for the very
privileges that the King had at last so reluctantly
confirmed.[51] We read, too, charges against the
"intolerable" tyranny of the very man whom the
Court party had caused to be elected; and we even
find what seems to be a bitter complaint against
the clause in the first patent of James, requiring
all things, for five years, to be held in common,[52]
although they could not be ignorant that the Company
had rejoiced as greatly as the colonists when
this unwise restriction expired. Perhaps the clearest
light thrown upon the conduct of the Assembly,
is furnished by the clause in which they protest,
in the most obsequious style, against "so unnatural
a distance as a company will interpose between
his sacred majesty and us his subjects."[53] The time
was not far distant when the unhappy colonists
would have rejoiced in any intervening shield between

their defenceless heads and the sword of the
monarch, grasped by the hand of the very governor
whom they now delighted to honour.

But, whatever may have been the motives impelling
the Assembly, it is certain that their petition
was highly acceptable to the King. (July 5.) From
his Court, at York, he returned them a gracious
answer—complimenting them upon their loyalty,
expatiating upon his own abundant "grace, bounty,
and favour" towards them, and promising never to
restore a Company to power which seemed now
equally unwelcome both to crown and to colonists.[54]

The influence of a popular governor, and of
excited hope, acted like a charm upon the interests
of the settlement. The commercial restrictions
were not enforced with rigour, and attracted so
little attention that we hear no complaints at this
time made against them. Recovering, with elastic
strength, from the pressure they had so long sustained,
the colonists increased rapidly in numbers,
in wealth, in general intelligence. The papers
prepared by the Councils, or even by individuals,
at this period, bear upon their faces the impress of
minds in love with freedom, and expanded by culture.
The assemblies were regularly convened;
and they passed laws, many of which still remain
upon our ancient statute book, to attest the wisdom
and patriotism of our fathers. Notwithstanding
their veneration for the governor, we note with
pleasure the same jealous regard for the rights of
the people which they had always evinced. In

the midst of the session of 1642-43, we find a
statute forbidding the Governor and Council to
lay any taxes or imposts upon either persons
or property, except by authority of the General
Assembly.[55]

But in one respect, the laws of this period were
as unjust and cruel in theory, as they were dangerous
and destructive in their practical tendency.
The Church of England had always been the
cherished establishment of the colonists. The
early settlers of Virginia had no sympathy with
the Puritans, who were now so rapidly increasing
in numbers and power in the mother country.
Two classes may exhibit the whole religious aspect
of the colony, at the time when Berkeley
assumed its government. One consisted of the
cavaliers and gentlemen planters, who, with a reputable
regard for order and morality, and strong
prepossessions in favour of the ancient "régime"
of England, looked upon the Church as closely
connected with all that was dignified and honourable.
They loved her ministers, her forms, and,
perhaps, her creed; and they looked with distrust
upon all innovation. These men were ardent
friends of freedom; and, had they lived in England,
it is not improbable that closer acquaintance
with prelacy, and experience of its inseparable connexion
with the maxims of civil tyranny,[56]
would

have driven them into the Puritan ranks, which
now embraced the noblest hearts and clearest intellects
found in the English realm. The other class
included the lower order of colonists—labourers,
artisans, servants—men who had never been remarkable
for virtue; who found little congenial to
their tastes in the strict morality of dissenters;
who looked upon religion with indifference, and
were content to discharge their obligations to the
Supreme Being by attendance upon the forms of
an established church. From neither of these
classes could we expect any serious resistance to
the known wishes of Berkeley, who was a churchman
of the deepest dye. The Assembly quietly
proceeded to pass laws of the most stringent character
on the subject of religion. Strict conformity
was required; tithes were inexorably imposed;
ministers' persons were invested with a
sanctity savouring strongly of superstition; popish
recusants were forbidden to hold any office, and
their priests were to be banished from the country;
the oath of supremacy to the king, as head of the
Church, was in all cases to be tendered; dissenting
preachers were strictly forbidden to exercise
their office; and the Governor and Council were
empowered to compel "non-conformists to depart
the colony with all convenience."[57]

Such laws, in the present age, would blacken the
statute book of any people with a stain never to be

erased. Yet should we remember, that they were
the results of the age rather than expressions of
popular feeling. Toleration was then almost
wholly unknown. Men had not learned, that the
human conscience is a thing too sacred to be
touched by human laws. Religion was regarded
as all-important; and each dominant sect, believing
its own peculiarities to embody the truth, sternly
required that all should believe according to its
cherished faith; forgetting the precepts of Him
who declared that He was neither a Judge nor a
Ruler of the affairs of man, that his Father was to
be worshipped in spirit and in truth, and that even
enemies were to be loved rather than persecuted.
Men professing His religion had for centuries disgraced
the Christian world by their cruelty to
those who ventured to decide for themselves in a
matter affecting their own immortal interests.
The Church of Rome was chiefly prominent in
the work of blood; the Church of England followed
in her footsteps, and left the fields of Scotland
covered with the dead bodies of her victims.
The Puritan Church of Massachusetts could not
resist so imposing examples, and hung Quakers
and persecuted Anabaptists with edifying zeal.
With these models before, around, and behind
her, it is not wonderful that Virginia should have
yielded to the temptation, and given her hand to
the demon of Intolerance. Yet it is consoling to
reflect, that no actual violence followed these enactments;
and when, nearly eighteen years afterwards,
the first martyrs to religious freedom fell
upon the soil of New England,[58] the elder colony
was wholly unstained by blood shed under laws
so unholy and vindictive.

While the colonists were thus voluntarily imposing
upon themselves a burthen of ecclesiastical
oppression, an ever active foe was preparing to inflict
upon them a dangerous wound. The Indians
were now inveterate enemies. Peace was never
thought of. Successive enactments of the Assembly
made it a solemn duty to fall upon the natives
at stated seasons of the year, and heavy penalties
were visited upon all who traded with them, or in
any mode provided them with arms and ammunition.
The whites were steadily increasing, both
in moral and physical strength; the Indians were
as rapidly wasting away before the breath of civilized
man. A few incursions,—a few convulsive
efforts, always attended by heavy loss to themselves,—one
final struggle,—these will complete
their history in Eastern Virginia.

The illegal grants, favoured by Sir John Hervey,
had provoked the natives into active hostility.
They saw their hunting grounds successively
swept away by a power which they were unable
to resist, and all the passions of the savage arose to
demand revenge.[59] When Sir William Berkeley
arrived, he used all his influence to mitigate the

injustice of these grants, in their effects both upon
the colonists and the Indians;[60] but enough remained
to inflame the spirits of men who were yet
heated by the recollection of past misfortunes.
Among the natives there still lived a hero, who
had proved himself a formidable adversary, even
when encountered by European skill. Opecancanough
had attained the hundredth year of his
life.[61] Declining age had bowed a form once eminent
in stature and manly strength. Incessant
toil and watchfulness had wasted his flesh, and
left him gaunt and withered, like the forest tree
stripped of its foliage by the frosts of winter. His
eyes had lost their brightness, and so heavily did
the hand of age press upon him, that his eyelids
drooped from weakness, and he required the aid of
an attendant to raise them that he might see objects
around him.[62] Yet within this tottering and
wasted body, burned a soul which seemed to have
lost none of its original energy. A quenchless fire
incited him to hostility against the settlers. He
yet wielded great influence among the members of
the Powhatan confederacy; and by his wisdom,
his example, and the veneration felt for his age,
he roused the savages to another effort at general
massacre.

The obscurity covering the best records which
remain of this period, has rendered doubtful the
precise time at which this fatal irruption occurred;

yet the most probable period would seem to be the
close of the year 1643.[63] The Indians were drawn
together with great secrecy and skill, and were
instructed to fall upon the colonists at the same
time, and to spare none who could be safely
butchered. Five hundred victims sank beneath
their attack. The assault was most violent and
fatal upon the upper waters of the Pamunky and
the York, where the settlers were yet thin in number
and but imperfectly armed.[64] But in every
place where resistance was possible, the savages
were routed with loss, and driven back in dismay
to their fastnesses in the forest.

(1644.) Sir William Berkeley instantly placed
himself at the head of a chosen body, composed of
every twentieth man able to bear arms, and
marched to the scene of devastation. Finding the
savages dispersed and all organized resistance at
an end, he followed them with a troop of cavalry.
The aged chief had taken refuge in the neighbourhood
of his seat at Pamunky. His strength was
too much enfeebled for vigorous flight. His limbs
refused to bear him, and his dull vision rendered

him an easy prey. He was overtaken by the pursuers,
and carried in triumph back to Jamestown.

Finding the very soul of Indian enmity now
within his power, the governor had determined to
send him to England as a royal captive, to be detained
in honourable custody until death should
close his earthly career.[65] The venerable chief lost
not for a moment his dignity and self-possession.
True to the principles of that stoicism which had
ever been the pride of his race, he looked with
contempt and indifference upon the men who held
his liberty and life in their hands. It might for
the sake of humanity have been hoped, that one
thus bending under the weight of years, and standing
upon the verge of the grave, would be suffered
to go down to the dust in peace. But a death of
violence awaited him. A brutal wretch, urged on
by desire to revenge injuries to the whites which
had long been forgotten or forgiven, advanced with
his musket behind the unhappy chieftain, and shot
him through the back![66] We know not whether
this murderer was punished; but could his name
be known, his deed would entitle him to a place
among the most hateful and black-hearted of mankind.

The wound thus given was mortal. Opecancanough
lingered a few days in agony; yet, to the
last moment of life, he retained his majesty and
sternness of demeanour. A crowd of idle beings

collected around him to sate their unfeeling curiosity
with a view of his person and his conduct.
Hearing the noise, the dying Indian feebly motioned
to his attendants to raise his eyelids, that he
might learn the cause of this tumult. A flash of
wounded pride and of just indignation, for a moment,
revived his waning strength. He sent for
the governor, and addressed to him that keen reproach,
which has so well merited preservation:
"Had I taken Sir William Berkeley prisoner, I
would not have exposed him as a show to my
people."[67] In a short time afterwards he expired.

Opecancanough was a savage, and with no justice
can he be judged by the rules of Christian
morality. If he was revengeful, he had wrongs to
revenge; if he hated the whites, he loved his own
people, whom he believed to be their victims. If
he made war with the darkest perfidy, it was the
manner of his race, and not a crime peculiar to
himself. Indian valour would avail little in the
open field against European science, and Indian
wiles alone could compensate the disparity. He
was faithful to his own countrymen, among whom
he ruled for many years with the sway of a superior
mind; and the circumstances of his death
affixed another blot upon our escutcheon, already
stained with the blood of thousands of native
Americans.[68]

After the death of this warrior, the celebrated
confederacy of Powhatan was immediately dissolved.
Originally formed by the force of the
emperor's genius, it was preserved during his life
by his influence, and, although constantly growing
weaker, it remained formidable so long as Opecancanough
survived to inspire it with his own courage.
But now it was without a head, and the
members fell away and speedily lost all tendency
to cohesion.[69] The Indians had learned, by fatal
experience, that they contended in vain with the
whites. Their spirits were broken; their buoyancy
was gone; they had no alternative, except to
suffer their savage habits to be moulded into civilized
forms, or to be wasted by the resistless march
of the new power in their land. Few, too few, we
fear, chose the wiser part. The greater number
could not yield, and the result need scarcely be
told. They have faded away and gradually disappeared,
never more to return.

(1645.) Happily relieved from fear of the savages,
the people of Virginia addressed themselves
to their duties with great vigour and success. Sir
William Berkeley paid a brief visit to England,
leaving Richard Kemp to perform his duties in his
absence.[70] (1646, Oct.) About a year after the
governor's return, peace was concluded between

the colony and Necotowance, the successor of Opecancanough.[71] The red men submitted to terms
proposed by their conquerors, and yielded up all
claim to lands upon which their fathers had hunted
for immemorial ages. We cannot yet dismiss them
from the page of Virginian history. Hereafter,
they will hold a subordinate part in the drama in
which they were once the most exciting actors.
Art had conquered nature; science had taken the
place of untaught ingenuity; Christian rites were
substituted for the gross forms of savage superstition.

Under a government yielding to them liberties,
which had already become dear to their hearts, the
colonists had few causes either of fear or of complaint.
Their commerce was yet unrestricted, and
the full monopoly they enjoyed for their staple in
the English market, gave them lucrative advantages.
Their soil was fertile; their climate was
charming; peace had returned to their borders;
the savages around them were no longer active in
hostility. Social happiness flowed to them from
fountains provided by their own industry and care.
Their numbers rapidly increased. About the close
of the year 1648, we find a notice of the shipping
of the colony. Ten ships visited them regularly
from London; two from Bristol; twelve from Holland,
and seven from New England.[72] The population
had already attained to twenty thousand

souls.[73] Gradual climatization had made the air
friendly. Except at certain seasons, and upon unfavourable
spots, we hear no more of fatal fevers,
and of those numerous forms of disease which
had assailed the early settlers. General content
prevailed in Virginia. Although they loved liberty
with warm affection, the people loved the King,
from whom, as they verily believed, they had obtained
a full grant of this precious boon. Had
they lived in the mother country at this time, it is
reasonable to suppose they would have sympathized
with the men who sought to restrict the
royal prerogative; but, at a distance, they saw not
the vices of a dominion which had never pressed
heavily upon them. Attached to a religion of
forms, and despising Puritanism, they wished not
to identify themselves with a rebellion conducted
almost exclusively by men who were dissenters
from the church establishment of England.[74]

But while the colony was thus prosperous, peaceful,
and happy, the mother country was shaken to
her centre by the contest now in progress between
her people and their unhappy monarch. To detail
all the important events which attended this struggle,
would not be consistent with the plan of this
narrative. Charles had summoned and dissolved

successive parliaments with ever-growing danger.
He had claimed rights to which no free people
could submit, and had enforced his claims by arbitrary
imprisonments and all the tyrannic enginery
of the Star Chamber and the Tower of London.
He had raised money so long as he could extract it
from his people without the aid of the Commons;
and when at length he was compelled to meet them,
he encountered nothing but resistance, and a resolution
to maintain their privileges. He devoted
his unfortunate friend to the scaffold, that his blood
might appease the stern spirit that had arisen
among his subjects; but he soon learned, in bitter
self-reproach, that the hour of safety was gone. At
open war with the people of England, he drew
around him many gallant souls ready to meet death
in the service of their sovereign; but their strength
was feeble in contest with a nation. Betrayed by
those to whom he had entrusted his safety, the
monarch was carried through the forms of a trial,
before a body from which all moderation had been
forcibly expelled; and, on the 30th January, 1649,
England gave to the world the sublime but most
dangerous example, of a king publicly executed by
the hands of his own oppressed people.

If a powerful reaction took place in Europe upon
the death of the royal victim,—and if many who
had been foes were now almost converted into
friends, we may presume that, in Virginia, popular
feeling was not less enlisted in his behalf. The
deed was done. They could not recall him from
the tomb; but they could remain faithful to his

son, and they could resist all attempts to subject
them to the dominion of the Long Parliament.
Charles, the unworthy son of an unhappy father,
yet survived to give embodiment to those who
wished a renewal of monarchy. An exile from his
country, he took refuge at Breda, and drew around
him a slender court, composed of men who had
loved his parent, and who were willing to die for
the child. They were not long in marking the
loyalty of Virginia, and Charles had now too few
real friends to be able to neglect any with impunity.
(1650, June.) He sent from Breda to Sir
William Berkeley a new commission, confirming
the powers granted by his father,[75] and the distant
colony remained true to the fortunes of the outcast
Stuart, when all other parts of the world where
his language was spoken seemed combined for his
destruction. It has even been supposed that the
Queen-mother, Henrietta Maria, had formed a project,
with the aid of the sovereign of France, for
transporting to the hospitable shores of Virginia a
large body of her retainers, and of continuing in
the new world the monarchical reign, which, in the
old, had been so suddenly and fatally arrested.[76]

When the Long Parliament had attained to supreme
power, they did not confine their views to
the domestic administration of the English commonwealth.

Already their fleets had gone abroad
in every sea, and they began to learn how strong
was that arm which has since made the name of
Britain formidable to all the world. Distant colonies
could not be unimportant;—Massachusetts
had already submitted with joy to their rule—or
rather, she had hailed the late revolution as a
change of all others most grateful to her people.[77]
With, perhaps, as much love of rational liberty as
was felt in Virginia, the northern colony had likewise
the warmest sympathy for the Puritan sects
who had achieved the overthrow of monarchy in
England; and they hastened to grasp the hand extended
to them by their religious brethren in Parliament.
Under these circumstances, we are not
surprised that the sturdy republicans of the mother
country should have looked with displeasure upon
the loyal spirit of Virginia, and should have determined
at once to reduce her to subjection by open
force.

But they found the task by no means so easy as
had been expected. If the minds of the colonists
were already strongly prepossessed in favour of
the Stuart dynasty, this feeling was not diminished
by the opening acts of the Commonwealth.
Anxious to attract to their own coffers some of the
wealth which Holland was amassing by her carrying
trade, the Parliament had already required
that all commerce between England and the rest
of the world, should be conducted by English

ships, English captains, and a large proportion of
English sailors. The result was a war between
the Dutch and the young republic, in which terrific
contests at sea took place between their fleets;[78]
and though Holland was sometimes successful, her
rival gained rapidly in confidence, in fame, and in
maritime skill.

Following up a policy, of which the germ at
least can be detected in the commission of Charles
I. to Sir William Berkeley, the Parliament issued
an ordinance, forbidding all commerce with the
colonies, except to those bearing a special license,
either by their own authority or from the Council
of State. The navigation act, above noted, operating
to confine the carriage of colonial produce
to English ships, the combined effect of these ordinances
was to secure an absolute monopoly of
the commerce of the colonies to the mother country.[79]

(1651.) But this was not all. A powerful fleet,
carrying, besides its proper crews, a large land
force, was entrusted to the command of Sir George
Ayscue, with directions to subdue the islands of
the West Indies, and to reduce all refractory colonies
to subjection. The orders of Parliament were
stern and decided. Ayscue was to offer mild terms
if the rebels would immediately submit; but should
they resist, he was to open upon them all the terrors
of war. He was even directed to inspire the

slaves of the colonists with thoughts of revenge
against their masters, and to place in their hands
proper weapons for domestic bloodshed.[80]

(1652.) The renowned naval commander promptly
obeyed the commands of the Commonwealth.
Sailing immediately to the West Indies, he reduced
Antigua and the Barbadoes to subjection,
and then turned his eyes to Virginia. His active
subaltern, Captain Dennis, entered the Chesapeake
early in March, and sailed up to Jamestown with
the firm belief that he should encounter no serious
resistance. But he was destined to disappointment.
The brave cavalier who governed Virginia,
esteemed this a fit occasion for displaying his
loyalty to his King and his hatred of the Commonwealth.
His military force was small, but highly
efficient; Jamestown was armed and carefully
guarded. All who could be depended upon for
service were employed; muskets were prepared,
and cannon were remounted. An accident gave
to Sir William Berkeley material aid. Several
Dutch ships were now lying at Jamestown, and
their commanders and crews knew well the fate
they must expect in case the cause of the Commonwealth
should triumph. Their rich cargoes
would fall a prey to the republicans, and their own
persons would be detained as prisoners of war.
They did not long hesitate to unite with the colonists

in their effort to repel the invaders.[81] Their
cargoes were unladen and carried on shore; select
crews were assigned to each ship, and they were
moored in a line along the peninsula on which the
town was built. Their guns were heavily charged,
and their broadsides brought to bear upon every
point from which an attack might be feared. Sir
William Berkeley superintended all these dispositions,
and placed his force in a manner which
would have enabled him to offer a formidable resistance.

When the Parliamentary force discovered these
warlike measures, they were brought to a stand.
Dennis seems at once to have abandoned all
thought of a violent attack, the issue of which
must have been very uncertain. He resorted to
negotiations as a means of success much less precarious
than an assault upon a line of Dutch batteries,
backed by a strong force of the bravest
spirits in Virginia.[82] What might have been the

result of his offers, had no private interest intervened,
we cannot say. The Governor, the Council,
the General Assembly,[83] and a large majority of
the people, were loyalists of the straitest sect;
and the Dutchmen would have fought by the side
of their allies with that phlegmatic resolution
which has ever distinguished them. But the republicans
found means of throwing an apple of
discord among their enemies, and of distracting
their counsels by an appeal to the selfishness of
the human heart.

Aboard the English fleet there was at this time
a large quantity of goods belonging to two members
of the Provincial Council. After some messages
had passed between the adverse parties, and
terms of accommodation had been offered by the
republicans, Captain Dennis, of the fleet, found
means to convey to these two councillors, intelligence
concerning their goods, wares, and merchandise,
aboard his ships; and he delicately
hinted to them that the fate of their property depended
upon their own conduct in the pending

discussion.[84] This skilful touch upon a very sensitive
nerve, was not without its effect. In the
Council, two at least would be strenuous advocates
of pacific measures, and there were doubtless
others equally willing to submit. Yet we need
not attribute so unworthy an origin to the final decision
of the Governor and the General Assembly.
All must have seen, that whatever temporary success
might attend their arms, they must at length
be crushed in a conflict with the mighty Commonwealth,
whose name was already formidable
throughout Christendom. While they could obtain
favourable terms, it was wise to submit, and
nothing can more fully vindicate both the honour
and the prudence of their conduct, than a view of
the articles of surrender, to which the Virginia
colony finally assented.

By this treaty,[85] it was agreed that the colony
should be and remain in obedience and subjection
to the Commonwealth; but this should be considered
a voluntary thing, and not imposed upon
them by force of arms; and in proof of this, they
were to enjoy all the "privileges and freedomes"
of the most favoured subjects of English government.
The General Assembly was to convene
and enact laws as before, with the sole restriction

that their statutes were to be consistent with the
government and laws of the mother country. A
total remission and indemnity for "acts, words, or
writings" against the Parliament was provided.
The existing boundaries of Virginia were guarantied,
former patents were confirmed,—even free
trade was fully granted to the colonists "to all
places and with all nations."[86] No taxes, customs,
or imposts, were to be levied upon them, except
by consent of the Assembly; they were to be at no
charge in respect of the fleet to which they surrendered;
and should any of the inhabitants not
choose to submit to the Commonwealth, they were
allowed one year to remove themselves and their
estates out of Virginia. Public arms and ammunition
were to be given up; but not until security
was provided that satisfaction in some equivalent
should be made for them. Dutch goods already
landed were to be free from forfeiture, and the quitrents
granted by King Charles upon the public
domain were to be continued. It was even agreed
that the use of the Book of Common Prayer should
be continued for one year in those parishes which
desired it, provided only that the parts recognising
the King and the royal government should not be
publicly used.[87] When we remember the uncompromising
dislike felt by the republicans in general
to every thing connected with the Church of
England, we may pronounce this last-named concession
the most liberal granted to the royalist
colony.

But the articles did not rest here. The generous
men who represented the people of Virginia,
wished to provide for the safety of a governor to
whom they were warmly attached, and whose well-known
love for the King might have brought upon
his head the displeasure of the Commonwealth.
Separate articles were agreed upon for the special
benefit of Sir William Berkeley. Neither was he
nor were his council to be required for "one whole
yeare," to take any oath of allegiance to the republic,
nor were they to be censured for speaking well
of the King. He was permitted, at his own charge,
to send a messenger with a report of his proceedings
to the sovereign whom he still recognised.
His lands, his personal property, his debts, were
all secured to him, and he was allowed one year
to provide a ship and transport himself and his
effects to any part of the world he might choose.
Should he land in England, he was even allowed
six months "to follow his occasions" after his
arrival.[88]

These articles, public and private, are followed
by a general grant of indemnity to all the inhabitants
of the colony, for all acts, words, and writings,
by them at any time committed against the Parliament.
The whole treaty is signed and sealed on
the 12th day of March, 1651-52, by Richard

Bennett, William Claiborne, and Edmund Curtis,
in behalf of the Commonwealth of England.[89]

Never, we may say, did a conquered province
obtain terms of settlement so favourable to her privileges,
her liberties, her honour, as did Virginia
in this memorable treaty. Whether her courageous
spirit, her internal resources, or her distance
from England, operated to secure her from the
grasp of the conqueror, we do not know. It is certain
that Oliver Cromwell was not one to be daunted
by resistance, or to be easily reconciled to a
steady adherence to the family whom he had
driven from the English throne. But it may be
that he was too wise to be harsh. That sagacious
intellect which, during eight years, rendered his
Protectorate the most glorious period that his country
had ever known, failed not to suggest to him
the true policy of the mother towards her colonial
offspring. Endeavouring, by moderate enactments,
to secure to England the benefit of the
commerce of the colonies, he left them, in other
respects, to the guidance of their own assemblies.
In religion he interfered but little. In the northern
settlements, changes were not necessary, for their
people were already among the firmest and most

untainted of Puritans; and we have seen that in
Virginia, the ritual of the Church of England was
but slightly modified.

The happy effects of this policy have not been
concealed. Though the period from her surrender
to the Commonwealth until the restoration of Charles
II. be too quiet to be brilliant, yet the colony then
enjoyed every thing essential to her welfare in profusion
hitherto unknown. Her General Assemblies
were freely elected by the people, and exercised
every power of government, whether legislative,
executive, or judicial.[90] So little jealous did they
seem of the authority of the Commonwealth, that
at their meeting in April after the surrender, they
elected to the office of governor Richard Bennett,[91]
a well-known republican, and one of the commissioners
of the English Parliament. In detailing
the events of this period, we are liable to the errors
into which several historians have been betrayed,
either by their partiality to a favourite theory, or
their hatred of Cromwell and all his measures. One
has represented Virginia as ruled by governors appointed
either by the Commonwealth or the Protector
— as groaning under oppression and restraint,
imposed by this wondrous despot—as filled
with gallant cavaliers and gentlemen, who had fled
to her soil to excite pity for their king and rebellion
against the ruling powers;[92] but these statements

are wholly false and unfounded. Neither
the Parliament nor Cromwell ever appointed a governor
for the colony. This officer was invariably
elected by the Assembly; and it is remarkable that
in one case, at least, this body exercised the power
of removing a governor previously elected.[93] The
ordinance of 1650 was in effect repealed by the
articles agreed upon in 1652; and we find few complaints
made by the colonists concerning commercial
tyranny exercised by the Protector. (1653,
July 12.) We have on record a single instance of
a ship and her equipage being declared forfeited
under the navigation laws; but the bill of sale conveying
her to the purchaser, is signed not only by
the Governor, but by the Speaker and Clerk of
the House of Burgesses, from which we infer
that her captain or owners had been guilty of some
plain violation of public policy, and the sentence
of forfeiture was considered righteous and salutary.[94]

The Rappahannoc Indians had always been distinguished
for their bravery and their inveterate
hatred of the whites. Finding them still unsubdued
and dangerous, the Assembly passed an act
providing for hostilities, and directing the counties

of Northumberland, Lancaster, and Westmoreland,
to raise an armed force and march against the
common foe. We have no authentic account of the
conflict, but we have a fact pregnant with proof
that the savages met their usual fate and were entirely
overthrown. The next year we find in the
public records the county of Rappahannoc added
to those that were already enrolled.[95] The natives
had been subdued. Many of them doubtless perished
in the contest. Many retired with sullen
resolution to the west, and the few that remained
could offer no serious resistance to the progress of
civilized life.

(1655.) Notwithstanding their continued enmity,
we find the General Assembly of each year growing
more humane and compassionate in their treatment
of the unhappy Indians. Could these wild
beings have submitted to the healthful restraints of
civil government, they might have been happy and
respected. Laws were enacted for their special
benefit. Rewards were offered to encourage them
in assuming even the forms of civilization. For
eight wolves' heads brought in by the Indians, their
chief man was to receive a cow. They were urged
to acquire private property, and provision was
made for educating their children if they would
entrust them to the whites.[96] No one can read the
recitals and acts of this Assembly, without being
impressed with the conviction, that they sincerely
desired to render the most important service to

their savage neighbours. But it was all in vain.
The red man preferred his life of independence
and indolence, with all its miseries, to the healthful
labour and real comforts of civilized society.

The eastern counties of Virginia were now in
great measure relieved from fear of Indian aggression.
But in the midst of their tranquillity, a report
reached the Assembly that six or seven hundred
savages from the mountains had poured down
in a body upon the upper waters of the James, and
threatened to establish themselves in strongholds
near the falls. To permit this lodgment would
have been highly imprudent and dangerous. These
savages were known as the Rechahecrians; and
they were eminent in valour, in subtilty, in determined
hatred of the settlers. From their lurking-places
around the falls, they might, by a sudden
sally, sweep with ruin all the neighbouring settlements.
The Assembly instantly resolved to dislodge
them. Colonel Edward Hill was sent with
a force of one hundred men, and the friendly tribes
on the York and Pamunky Rivers were called upon
to aid him. It is believed that the mountain horde
made a desperate resistance; many of the Pamunky
tribe were slain, and among them fell their
gallant chief Totopotomoi, who had long been remarkable
for his friendly intercourse with the colonists.[97] (1656.) It seems probable that some unhappy
management occasioned a serious disaster
to the whites, and that the Rechahecrians were

not at this time totally overthrown; for Colonel
Edward Hill was afterwards cashiered and threatened
with fine for his conduct in the affair;[98] and
these Indians were probably among those who
acted a part in the memorable wars of Nathaniel
Bacon.

In 1656, Bennett was succeeded in the office of
governor by Edward Digges, who had long been a
valued member of the Council. Those who have
asserted that the rule of Cromwell in Virginia was
harsh and oppressive,[99] would find their theory not
easily reconciled with known facts during this period.
The very men whom the Assembly chose
as their governors, were also employed to represent
the interests of the colony with the Protector in
England. Had they been the creatures of Cromwell,
and employed by him in enforcing hated
laws, they would hardly have been elected by the
colonial Assembly to sustain their rights in a contest
with Maryland.[100] Whatever may have been
the designs[101] of the extraordinary man who now
grasped the helm of English affairs, it is certain
that he carried into execution no plan which affected

the colonies unfavourably. Their representative
government remained in full force, elected
and removed officers at its pleasure, passed
laws of the utmost importance, extended the right
of suffrage to every freeman who paid taxes,[102] declared
war and peace, inflicted fines, announced
its own privileges with a spirit worthy of the days
of John Hampden, and in all things proved itself
equal to the task of governing a prosperous and
growing people. In 1658, Samuel Matthews was
elected governor. He was "a worthy old gentleman,
a planter of near forty years standing,"[103] and
had already been entrusted with important duties
by the Assembly. But though a lover of liberty
himself, and devoted to the true interests of the
colony, the venerable governor had evidently too
exalted an opinion of his own privileges. This
session of the Assembly was eminent for the ability
of the members, the importance of their acts, and
the noble principles of freedom to which they gave
expression.[104] After passing many laws for the general
welfare of the colony, they declared that it
was the right of the House of Burgesses to discuss,
first and alone, any measure proposed for enactment.
This change rendered their power of legislation
absolute, for it took away from the Governor
and Council all authority to introduce bills, or to
act effectively upon them when introduced.[105]

The worthy chief magistrate took fire at this
act, and in the first impetus of his wrath, adopted
the kingly measure of declaring the Assembly to
be dissolved. But he found his proclamation to be
of small force against the calm republicanism that
pervaded this body. They instantly sent him a

message, denying the power of the Governor and
Council to dissolve them, and then having forbidden
any member to depart, they went into secret session.
The Governor became alarmed, and finally
withdrew his message for dissolving them, but reserved
the question of right to be decided by the
Protector. But this did not satisfy the Burgesses.
By way of showing what their power really was,
they pronounced all former elections of governor
and council void and null, and having thus reduced
these high functionaries to private life, they condescended
to invest old Samuel Matthews with his
office for a renewed term of years.[106] The dispute
was ended in a moment. We hear of no more
dissolving of Assemblies. The representatives of
the people had signally triumphed; and we may
now say that every power that government could
exercise was wielded by their hands.

Tranquillity and content universally prevailed.
When Oliver Cromwell descended to his grave, no
outburst of popular joy, no attempt to cast off a
hated yoke, can be discerned. The amiable but inconsistent
son of the Protector, was proposed and
deliberately recognised by the Assembly, as invested
with all the rights of his father,[107] and had Richard
Cromwell possessed the talents of a sovereign,
England and Virginia would long have remained
under his rule. But his mild spirit shrank from
the perils of a station, perhaps the most dangerous

then in the world. (April 22.) He yielded up the
dominion he had so lately assumed, and retired to
the repose of private life. England was threatened
with anarchy, and Virginia felt the feeble undulations
of a storm which menaced the mother country
with ruin. (1660.) At this critical time Samuel
Matthews died. Who shall be his successor?
This was a question of heavy import to their safety,
and the Assembly seem to have acted with a prescience
sometimes granted to men placed in circumstances
of difficulty and hazard. No tumult
was raised, no excited feeling prevailed, no royal
standard was thrown abroad to announce that
Charles the Second was King of Virginia.[108] All
that has been written and spoken and believed on
this subject, will vanish before the light of truth.
Sir William Berkeley was still in the colony. Beloved
by his friends and respected by the Assembly,
he had remained in rural quietude. His comfort
and his interests had been the subject of special
legislation, and his love to the King had never subjected
him to danger. To him the Assembly now
turned their eyes, and on the 13th day of March,
by a decisive vote, they tendered to him the office
of Governor of Virginia.[109] It was immediately accepted,
without condition or compromise. Whatever
may have been Berkeley's hopes, he required
no oath of allegiance to the King, from the men
who had placed him at the head of their affairs.
At this very session we note an act denouncing a
penalty against any one speaking in derogation of
the existing government.[110] But the mind of England
was soon relieved from its terrible suspense.
Monk threw off the mask of mystery which for
months he had worn, and on the 29th of April,
1660, Charles the Second ascended the throne, left
vacant eleven years before by the death of his unfortunate
sire.