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    Ch. 6: Catholic, Philosopher, and Rebel

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    Chapter 7
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    The first Lord Baltimore, whose family name was Calvert, was a
    Yorkshireman, born at the town of Kipling in 1580. He entered Parliament
    in his thirtieth year, and was James's Secretary of State ten years later.
    He was a man of large, tranquil nature, philosophic, charitable, loving
    peace; but these qualities were fused by a concrete tendency of thought,
    which made him a man of action, and determined that action in the
    direction of practical schemes of benevolence. The contemporary interest
    in America as a possible arena of enterprise and Mecca of religious and
    political dissenters, attracted his sympathetic attention; and when, in
    1625, being then five-and-forty years of age, he found in the Roman
    Catholic communion a refuge from the clamor of warring sects, and as an
    immediate consequence tendered his resignation as secretary to the head of
    the Church of England, he found himself with leisure to put his designs in
    execution. He had, upon his conversion, been raised to the rank of Baron
    Baltimore in the peerage of Ireland; and his change of faith in no degree
    forfeited him the favor of the king. When therefore he asked for a charter
    to found a colony in Avalon, in Newfoundland, it was at once granted, and
    the colony was sent out; but his visits to it in 1627 and 1629 convinced
    him that the climate was too inclement for his purposes, and he requested
    that it might be transferred to the northern parts of Virginia, which he
    had visited on his way to England. This too was permitted; but before the
    new charter had been sealed Lord Baltimore died. The patent thereupon
    passed to his son Cecil, who was also a Catholic. He devoted his life to
    carrying out his father's designs. The characters of the two men were, in
    their larger elements, not dissimilar; and the sequel showed that colonial
    enterprise could be better achieved by one man of kindly and liberal
    disposition, and persistent resolve, than by a corporation, some of whose
    members were sure to thwart the wishes of others. Conditions of wider
    scope than the settlement of Maryland obstructed and delayed its
    proprietor's plans; conflicts and changes of government in England, and
    jealousy and violence on the part of Virginia, had their influence; but
    this quiet, benign, resolute young man (who was but seven-and-twenty when
    the grant made him sovereign of a kingdom) never lost his temper or
    swerved from his aim: overcame, apparently without an effort, the
    disabilities which might have been expected to hamper the professor of a
    faith as little consonant with the creed of the two Charleses as of
    Cromwell; was as well regarded, politically, by cavaliers as by
    roundheads; and finally established his ownership and control of his
    heritage, and, after a beneficent rule of over forty years, died in peace
    and honor with his people and the world. The story of colonial Maryland
    has a flavor of its own, and throws still further light on the subject of
    popular self-government--the source and solution of American history.

    The idea of the Baltimores, as outlined in their charter, and followed in
    their practice, was to try the experiment of a democratic monarchy. They
    would found a state the people of which should enjoy all the freedom of
    action and thought that sane and well-disposed persons can desire, within
    the boundaries of their personal concerns; they should not be meddled
    with; each man's home should be his castle; they should say what taxes
    should be collected, and what civil officers should attend to their
    collective affairs. They should be like passengers on a ship, free to
    sleep or wake, sit or walk, speak or be mute, eat or fast, as they
    pleased: do anything in fact except scuttle the ship or cut the rigging
    --or ordain to what port she should steer, or what course the helmsman
    should lay. Matters of high policy, in other words, should be the care of
    the proprietor; everything less than that, broadly speaking, should be
    left to the colonists themselves. The proprietor could not get as close to
    their personal needs as they could: and they, preoccupied with private
    interests, could not see so far and wide as he could. If then it were
    arranged that they should be afforded every facility and encouragement to
    make their wants known: and if it were guaranteed that he would adopt
    every means that experience, wisdom and good-will suggested to gratify
    those wants: what more could mortal man ask? There was nothing abnormal in
    the idea. The principle is the same as that on which the Creator has
    placed man in nature: man is perfectly at liberty to do as he pleases;
    only, he must adapt himself to the law of gravitation, to the resistance
    of matter, to hot and cold, wet and dry, and to the other impersonal
    necessities by which the material universe is conditioned. The control of
    these natural laws, as they are called, could not advantageously be given
    in charge to man; even had he the brains to manage them, he could not
    spare the time from his immediate concerns. He is well content,
    accordingly, to leave them to the Power that put him where he is; and he
    does not feel his independence infringed upon in so doing. When his little
    business goes wrong, however, he can petition his Creator to help him out:
    or, what amounts to the same thing, he can find out in what respect he has
    failed to conform to the laws of nature, and, by returning into harmony
    with them, insure himself success. What the Creator was to mankind at
    large, Lord Baltimore proposed to be to his colony; and, following this
    supreme example, and binding himself to place the welfare of his people
    before all other considerations, how could he make a mistake?

    In arguments about the best ways of managing nations or communities, it
    has been generally conceded that this scheme of an executive head on one
    side, and a people freely communicating their wants to him on the other,
    is sound, provided, first, that he is as solicitous about their welfare as
    they themselves are; and secondly, that means exist for continuous and
    unchecked intercommunication between them and him:--it being premised, of
    course, that the ability of the head is commensurate with his willingness.
    And leaving basic principles for the moment aside, it is notorious that
    one-man power is far prompter, weightier, and cleaner-cut than the
    confused and incomplete compromises of a body of representatives are apt
    to be.

    All this may be conceded. And yet experience shows that the one-man
    system, even when the man is a Lord Baltimore, is unsatisfactory. Lord
    Baltimore, indeed, finally achieved a technical success; his people loved
    and honored him, his wishes were measurably realized, and, so far as he
    was concerned, Maryland was the victim of fewer mistakes than were the
    other colonies. But the fact that Lord Baltimore's career closed in peace
    and credit was due less to what he did and desired, than to the necessity
    his career was under of sooner or later coming to a close. Had he
    possessed a hundred times the ability and benevolence that were his, and
    had been immortal into the bargain, the people would have cast him out;
    they were willing to tolerate him for a few years, more or less, but as a
    fixture--No! "Tolerate" is too harsh a word; but another might be too
    weak. The truth is, men do not care half so much what they get, as how
    they get it. The wolf in Aesop's fable keenly wanted a share of the bones
    which made his friend the mastiff so sleek; but the hint that the bones
    and the collar went together drove him hungry but free back to his desert.
    It is of no avail to give a man all he asks for; he resents having to ask
    you for it, and wants to know by what right you have it to give. A man can
    be grateful for friendship, for a sympathetic look, for a brave word
    spoken in his behalf against odds--he can be your debtor for such things,
    and keep his manhood uncompromised. But if you give him food, and ease, or
    preferment, and condescension therewith, look for no thanks from him;
    esteem yourself fortunate if he do not hold you his enemy. The gifts of
    the soul are free; but material benefits are captivity. So the Maryland
    colonists, recognizing that their proprietor meant well, forgave him his
    generosity, and his activities in their behalf--but only because they knew
    that his day would presently be past. Man is infinite as well as finite:
    infinite in his claims, finite in his power of giving. And for Baltimore
    to presume to give the people all they claimed, was as much as to say that
    his fullness could equal their want, or that his rights and capacities
    were more than theirs. He gave them all that a democracy can possess
    --except the one thing that constitutes democracy; that is, absolute
    self-direction. It may well be that their little ship of state, steered by
    themselves, would have encountered many mishaps from which his sagacious
    guidance preserved it. But rather rocks with their pilotage than port with
    his: and beyond forgiving him their magnanimity could not go.

    There is little more than this to be derived from study of the Maryland
    experiment. Let a man manage himself, in big as well as in little things,
    and he will be happy on raw clams and plain water, with a snow-drift for a
    pillow--as we saw him happy in Plymouth Bay: but give him roast ortolans
    and silken raiment, and manage him never so little, and you cannot relieve
    his discontent. And is it not well that it should be so? Verily it is--if
    America be not a dream, and immortality a delusion.

    Lord Baltimore would perhaps have liked to see all his colonists
    Catholics; but his experience of religious intolerance had not inflamed
    him against other creeds than his own, as would have been the case with a
    Spaniard; it seemed to awaken a desire to set tolerance an example. Any
    one might join his community except felons and atheists; and as a matter
    of fact, his assortment of colonists soon became as motley as that of
    Williams in Providence. The landing of the first expedition on an island
    in the Potomac was attended by the making and erecting by the Jesuit
    priests of a rude cross, and the celebration of mass; but there were even
    then more Protestants than Catholics in the party; and though the
    leadership was Catholic for many years, it was not on account of the
    numerical majority of persons of that faith. Episcopalians ejected from
    New England, Puritans fleeing from the old country, Quakers and
    Anabaptists who were unwelcome everywhere else, met with hospitality in
    Maryland. Let them but believe in Jesus Christ, and all else was forgiven
    them. Nevertheless, Catholicism was the religion of the country. Its
    inhabitants might be likened to promiscuous guests at an inn whose
    landlord made no criticisms on their beliefs, further than to inscribe the
    Papal insignia on the signboard over his door. Thus liberty was
    discriminated from license, and in the midst of tolerance there was order.

    The first settlement was made on a small creek entering the north side of
    the Potomac. Here an Indian village already existed; but its occupants
    were on the point of deserting it, and were glad to accept payment from
    the colonists for the site which they had no further use for. On the other
    hand, the colonists could avail themselves of the wigwams just as they
    stood, and had their maize fields ready cleared. Baltimore, meanwhile,
    through his agent (and brother) Leonard Calvert, furnished them with all
    the equipment they needed; and so well was the way smoothed before them,
    that the colony made progress ten times as rapidly as Virginia had done.
    They called their new home St. Mary's; and the date of its occupation was
    1634. Their first popular assembly met for legislation in the second month
    of the ensuing year. In that and subsequent meetings they asserted their
    right of jurisdiction, their right to enact laws, the freedom of "holy
    church": his lordship gently giving them their head. In 1642, perhaps to
    disburden themselves of some of their obligation to him, they voted him a
    subsidy. Almost the only definite privilege which he seems to have
    retained was that of pre-emption of lands. At this period (1643) all
    England was by the ears, and Baltimore's hold upon his colony was relaxed.
    In Virginia and the other colonies, which had governors of their own, the
    neglect of the mother country gave them opportunity for progress; but the
    people of Maryland, no longer feeling the sway of their non-resident
    proprietor, and having no one else to look after them, became disorderly;
    which would not have happened, had they been empowered to elect a ruler
    from among themselves. Baltimore's enemies took advantage of these
    disturbances to petition for his removal from the proprietorship; but he
    was equal to the occasion; and by confirming his colonists in all just
    liberties, with freedom of conscience in the foreground, he composed their
    dissensions, and took away his enemies' ground of complaint. In 1649, the
    legislature sat for the first time in two branches, so that one might be a
    check upon the other. Upon this principle all American legislatures are
    still formed.

    But the reign of Cromwell in England gave occasion for sophistries in
    Maryland. All other Englishmen, in the colonies or at home, were members
    of a commonwealth; but Baltimore still claimed the Marylanders'
    allegiance. On what grounds?--for since the king from whom he derived his
    power was done away with, so must be the derivative power. Baltimore stood
    between them and republicanism. To give edge to the predicament, the
    colony was menaced by covetous Virginia on one hand, and by fugitive
    Charles II., with a governor of his own manufacture, on the other.
    Calamity seemed at hand.

    In 1650, the year after Charles I.'s execution, the Parliament appointed
    commissioners to bring royalist colonies into line; Maryland was to be
    reannexed to Virginia; Bennett, then governor of Virginia, and Clairborne,
    unseated Stone, Baltimore's lieutenant, appointed an executive council,
    and ordered that burgesses were to be elected by supporters of Cromwell
    only. The question of reannexation was referred to Parliament. Baltimore
    protested that Maryland had been less royalist than Virginia; and before
    the Parliament could decide what to do, it was dissolved, carrying with it
    the authority of Bennett and Clairborne. Stone now reappeared defiant; but
    the Virginians attacked him, and he surrendered on compulsion. The
    Virginian government decreed that no Roman Catholics could hereafter vote
    or be elected.

    Baltimore, taking his stand on his charter, declared these doings
    mutinous; and Cromwell supported him. Stone once more asserted himself;
    but in the skirmish with the Virginians that followed, he was defeated,
    yielded (he seems to have had no granite in his composition), and, with
    his supporters, was ordered to be shot. His life was spared, however; but
    Cromwell, again appealed to, refused to act. The ownership of Maryland was
    therefore still undetermined. It was not until 1667 that Baltimore and
    Bennett agreed to compromise their dispute. The boundary between the two
    domains was maintained, but settlers from Virginia were not to be
    disturbed in their holdings. The second year after Cromwell's death, the
    representatives of Maryland met and voted themselves an independent
    assembly, making Fendall, Baltimore's appointee, subject to their will.
    Finally, being weary of turmoil, they made it felony to alter what they
    had done. The colony was then abreast of Virginia in political privileges,
    and had a population of about ten thousand, in spite of its vicissitudes.

    But the quiet, invincible Lord Baltimore was still to be reckoned with.
    At the Restoration, he sent his deputy to the colony, which submitted to
    his authority, and Fendall was convicted of treason for having allowed the
    assembly to overrule him. A general amnesty was proclaimed, however, and
    the kindliness of the government during the remainder of the proprietor's
    undisputed sway attracted thousands of settlers from all the nations of
    Europe. Between Baltimore and the people, a give-and-take policy was
    established, one privilege being set against another, so that their
    liberties were maintained, and his rights recognized. Though he stood in
    his own person for all that was opposed to democracy, he presided over a
    community which was essentially democratic; and he had the breadth of mind
    to acknowledge that because he owned allegiance to kings and popes, was no
    reason why others should do so. Suum cuique. Could he but have gone a step
    further, and denied himself the gratification of retaining his hard-earned
    proprietorship, he would have been one of the really great men of history.

    The ripple of events which we have recorded may seem too insignificant;
    of still less import is the story of the efforts of Clairborne, from 1634:
    to 1647, to gain, or retain possession of Kent Island, in the Chesapeake,
    on which he had "squatted" before Baltimore got his charter. Yet, from
    another point of view, even slight matters may weigh when they are related
    to the stirring of the elements which are to crystallize into a nation.
    Maryland, like a bird half tamed, was ready to fly away when the cage door
    was left open, and yet was not averse to its easy confinement when the
    door was shut again. But, unlike the bird, time made it fonder of liberty,
    instead of leading it to forget it; and when the cage fell apart, it was
    at home in the free air.

    The settlement of the Carolinas, during the twenty years or so from 1660
    to 1680, presented features of singular grotesqueness. There was, on one
    side, a vast wilderness covering the region now occupied by North and
    South Carolina, and westward to the Pacific. It had been nibbled at, for a
    hundred years, by Spaniards, French and English, but no permanent hold had
    been got upon it. Here were thousands upon thousands of square miles in
    which nature rioted unrestrained, with semi-tropic fervor; the topography
    of which was unknown, and whose character in any respect was a matter of
    pure conjecture. This wilderness was on one side; on the other were a
    worthless king, a handful of courtiers, and a couple of highly gifted
    doctrinaires, Lord Shaftesbury and John Locke, the philosopher. We can
    picture Charles II. lolling in his chair, with a map of the Americas
    spread out on his knees, while the other gentlemen in big wigs and silk
    attire, and long rapiers dangling at their sides, are grouped about him.
    "I'll give you all south of Virginia," says he, indicating the territory
    with a sweep of his long fingers. "Ashley, you and your friend Locke can
    draw up a constitution, and stuff it full of your fine ideas; they sound
    well: we'll see how they work. You shall be kings every man of you; and
    may you like it no worse than I do! You'll have no France or Holland to
    thwart you--only bogs and briers and a few naked blacks. Your charter
    shall pass the seals to-morrow: and much good may it do you!"

    So the theorists and the courtiers set out to subdue the untutored
    savageness of nature with a paper preamble and diagrams and rules and
    inhibitions, and orders of nobility and a college of heralds, and
    institutions of slavery and serfdom, and definitions of freeholders and
    landgraves, caciques and palatines; and specifications of fifths for
    proprietors, fifths for the nobility, and the rest for the common herd,
    who were never to be permitted to be anything but the common herd, with no
    suffrage, no privileges, and no souls. All contingencies were provided
    against, except the one contingency, not wholly unimportant, that none of
    the proposals of the Model Constitution could be carried into effect.
    Strange, that Ashley Cooper--as Lord Shaftesbury was then--one of the most
    brilliant men in Europe, and John Locke, should get together and draw
    squares over a sheet of paper, each representing four hundred and eighty
    thousand acres, with a cacique and landgraves and their appurtenances in
    each--and that they should fail to perceive that corresponding areas would
    never be marked out in the pathless forests, and that noblemen could not
    be found nor created to take up their stand, like chessmen, each in his
    lonely and inaccessible morass or mountain or thicket, and exercise the
    prerogatives of the paper preamble over trees and panthers and birds of
    the air! How could men of such radiant intelligence as Locke and
    Shaftesbury unquestionably were, show themselves so radically ignorant of
    the nature of their fellowmen, and of the elementary principles of
    colonization? The whole thing reads, to-day, like some stupendous jest;
    yet it was planned in grave earnest, and persons were found to go across
    the Atlantic and try to make it work.

    Lord Shaftesbury was one of the Hampshire Coopers, and the first earl. He
    was a sort of English Voltaire: small and thin, nervous and fractious,
    with a great cold brain, no affections and no illusions; he had faith in
    organizations, but none in man; was destitute of compunctions, careless of
    conventions and appearances, cynical, penetrating, and frivolous. He was a
    skeptic in religion, but a devotee of astrology; easily worried in safety,
    but cool and audacious in danger. He despised if he did not hate the
    people, and regarded kings as an unavoidable nuisance; the state, he
    thought, was the aristocracy, whose business it was to keep the people
    down and hold the king in check. His career--now supporting the royalists,
    now the roundheads, now neither--seems incoherent and unprincipled; but in
    truth he was one of the least variable men of his time; he held to his
    course, and king and parliament did the tacking. He was an incorruptible
    judge, though he took bribes; and an unerring one, though he disregarded
    forms of law. He was tried for treason, and acquitted; joined the Monmouth
    conspiracy, and escaped to Holland, where he died at the age of sixty-two.
    What he lacked was human sympathies, which are the beginning of wisdom;
    and this deficiency it was, no doubt, that led him into the otherwise
    incomprehensible folly of the Carolina scheme.

    Locke could plead the excuse of being totally unfamiliar with practical
    life; he was a philosopher of abstractions, who made an ideal world to fit
    his theories about it. He could write an essay on the Understanding, but
    was unversed in Common-sense. His nature was more calm and normal than
    Shaftesbury's, but in their intellectual conclusions they were not
    dissimilar. The views about the common people which Sir William Berkeley
    expressed with stupid brutality, they stated with punctual elegance. They
    were well mated for the purpose in hand, and they performed it with due
    deliberation and sobriety. It was not until five years after the grant was
    made that the constitution was written and sealed. It achieved an
    instantaneous success in England, much as a brilliant novel might, in our
    time; and the authors were enthusiastically belauded. The proprietors
    --Albemarle, Craven, Clarendon, Berkeley, Sir William Berkeley, Sir John
    Colleton and Sir George Carteret, and Shaftesbury himself--began to look
    about for their serfs and caciques, and to think of their revenues.
    Meanwhile the primeval forest across three thousand miles of ocean laughed
    with its innumerable leaves, and waved its boughs in the breath of the
    spirit of liberty. The laws of the study went forth to battle with the
    laws of nature.

    Ignorant of these courtly and scholarly proceedings, a small knot of
    bonafide settlers had built their huts on Albemarle Sound, and had for
    some years been living there in the homeliest and most uneducated peace
    and simplicity. Some had come from Virginia, some from New England, and
    others from the island of Bermuda. They had their little assembly and
    their governor Stevens, their humble plantations, their modest trade,
    their beloved solitudes, and the plainest and least obtrusive laws
    imaginable. They paddled up and down their placid bayous and rivers in
    birch-bark canoes; they shot deer and 'possums for food and panthers for
    safety, they loved their wives and begat their children, they wore shirts
    and leggins of deerskin like the Indians, and they breathed the pure
    wholesomeness of the warm southern air. When to these backwoods innocents
    was borne from afar the marvelous rumors of the silk-stockinged and
    lace-ruffled glories, originated during an idle morning in the king's
    dressing-room, which were to transfigure their forest into trim gardens
    and smug plantations, surrounding royal palaces and sumptuous hunting
    pavilions, perambulated by uniformed officials, cultivated by meek armies
    of serfs, looking up from their labors only to doff their caps to lordly
    palatines and lily-fingered ladies with high heels and low corsages: when
    they tried to picture to themselves their solemn glades and shadow-haunted
    streams and inviolate hills, their eyries of eagles and lairs of stag and
    puma, the savage beauty of their perilous swamps, all the wild
    magnificence of this pure home of theirs--metamorphosed by royal edict
    into a magnified Versailles, in which lutes and mandolins should take the
    place of the wolf's howl and the panther's scream, the keen scent of the
    pine balsam be replaced by the reek of musk and patchouli, the honest
    sanctity of their couches of fern give way to the embroidered corruption
    of a fine lady's bedchamber, the simple vigor of their pioneer parliament
    bewitch itself into a glittering senate chamber, where languid chancellors
    fingered their golden chains and exchanged witty epigrams with big-wigged,
    snuff-taking cavaliers:--when they attempted to house these strange ideas
    in their unsophisticated brains, they must have stared at one another with
    a naive perplexity which slowly broadened their tanned and bearded visages
    into contagious grins. They looked at their hearty, clear-eyed wives, and
    watched the gambols of their sturdy children, and shook their heads, and
    turned to their work once more.

    The first movements of the new dispensation took the form of trying to
    draw the colonists together into towns, of reviving the Navigation Acts,
    of levying taxes on their infant commerce, and in general of tying fetters
    of official red tape on the brawny limbs of a primitive and natural
    civilization. The colony was accused of being the refuge of outlaws and
    traitors, rogues and heretics; and Sir William Berkeley, governor of
    Virginia, one of the proprietors under the Model Constitution, was deputed
    to make as much mischief in the virgin settlement as he could.

    The colonists numbered about four thousand, spread over a large
    territory; they did not want to desert their palmetto thatched cabins and
    strenuously-cleared acres; they disliked crowding into towns; they saw no
    justice in paying to intangible and alien proprietors a penny tax on their
    tobacco exports to New England--though they paid it nevertheless. They
    particularly objected to the interference of Governor Berkeley, for they
    knew him well. And when the free election of their assembly was attacked,
    they sent emissaries to England to remonstrate, and meanwhile, John
    Culpepper leading, and without waiting for the return of their emissaries,
    they arose and wiped out the things and persons that were objectionable,
    and then returned serenely to their business. They did not fly into a
    passion, and froth at the mouth, and massacre and torture; but quietly and
    inflexibly, with hardly a keener flash from their fearless eyes, they put
    things to rights, and thought no more about it.

    Such treasonable proceedings, however, fluttered the council chambers in
    London sorely, and stout John Culpepper, who believed in popular liberty
    and was not afraid to say so, went to England to justify what had been
    done. He was arrested and put on trial, though he demanded to be tried, if
    at all, in the place where the offense was committed. The intent of his
    adversaries was not to give him justice, but simply to hang him; and why
    go to the trouble and expense of carrying him to Carolina to do that? He
    went near to becoming a martyr, did stout John; but, unexpectedly,
    Shaftesbury, who might believe in despotism, but who fretted to behold
    injustice, undertook his defense and brought him out clear. The rest of
    the "rebels" were amnestied the following year, 1681. But one Seth Sothel,
    who had bought out Lord Clarendon's proprietary rights, was sent out as
    governor; and after escaping from the Algerine pirates, who captured and
    kept him for a couple of years, he arrived at Albemarle, commissioned, as
    Bancroft admirably puts it, to "Transform a log cabin into a baronial
    castle, a negro slave into a herd of leet-men." Sothel was not long in
    perceiving that this was beyond his powers, but he could steal: and so he
    did for a few years, when the colonists, thinking he had enough, unseated
    him, tried him, and sentenced him to a year's exile and to nevermore be
    officer of theirs.

    These planters of North Carolina were good Americans from the beginning,
    endowed with a courage and love of liberty which foretold the spirit of
    Washington's army,--and a religious tolerance which did not prevent them
    from listening with sympathy and approval to the spiritual harangues of
    Fox, the Quaker, who sojourned among them with gratifying results. Their
    prejudice against towns continued, and one must walk far to visit them,
    with only marks on the forest trees to guide. They were inveterately
    contented, and having emancipated themselves from the blight of the Model
    Constitution, rapidly became prosperous. The only effect of Messrs. Locke
    and Shaftesbury's scheme of an aristocratic Utopia was to make the
    settlers conscious of their strength and devoted to their freedom. Indeed,
    the North Carolinians were in great part men who had not only fled from
    the oppressions of England, but had found even the mild restraints of the
    other colonies irksome.

    The fate of the Model in South Carolina was similar, though the
    preliminary experiences were different. When Joseph West, agent for the
    proprietors, and William Sayle, experienced in colonizing, took three
    shiploads of emigrants to the junction of the Ashley and Cooper rivers,
    about twenty miles south of latitude 33°, they had a copy of the Model
    with them. But the first thing they did after getting ashore was to vote
    that its provisions were impracticable, and to revise it to such a degree
    that, when it was sent over to England for approval, its authors did not
    recognize their work, and disowned it. But the settlers constituted their
    assembly on the general lines which might now be called American, and put
    up their huts, in 1672, on the ground where now stands Charleston. The
    climate was too hot for white labor, and the timely arrival of negro
    slaves was welcome; in a few years they doubled the number of the whites.
    The staple crops of the southern plantations needed much more work than
    those of New England and the north, and this, as well as the preference of
    the negroes themselves for the warmer climates, determined the
    distribution of black slavery on the Atlantic coast.

    Dutch settlers presently joined the English; a Scotch-Irish colony at
    Port Royal was set upon by the Spaniards, who, in accordance with the
    characteristic Spanish policy, massacred the inhabitants and burned the
    houses. But later the revocation by Louis XIV. of the amnesty to Huguenots
    caused the latter to fly their country and disperse themselves over Europe
    and America; no higher or finer class of men and women ever joined the
    ranks of exile, and they were everywhere welcomed. Colonies of them
    settled all along the Atlantic seaboard; and around Charleston many from
    Languedoc found a congenial home, and became a valuable and distinguished
    part of the population. America could not have been complete without the
    leaven of the heroic French Protestants.

    Meanwhile the proprietors were gradually submitting, with no good grace,
    however, to the inevitable. Their Model remained a model--something never
    to be put to practical use. On paper was it born, and on paper should it
    remain forever. The proprietors were kings, by grace of Charles II., but
    they had neither army nor navy, and their subjects declined to be serfs.
    They declined into the status of land speculators; the governors whom they
    sent out did nothing but fill their pockets and let the people have the
    rest. At last, it was enough for the proprietors to suggest anything for
    the people to negative it, whether it were good or bad. They not only
    avowed their natural right to do as they pleased, but deemed it due to
    their self-respect not to do what was pleasing to their tinsel sovereigns
    in London. And finally, when Colleton, one of the sovereigns in question,
    tried to declare martial law in the colony, on the plea of danger from
    Indians or Spanish, the indomitable freemen treated him as their brethren
    at Albemarle had treated Sothel. The next year saw William and Mary on the
    English throne; Shaftesbury had died seven years before; and the Great
    Model subsided without a bubble into the vacuum of historical absurdities.

    We left Virginia awaiting the return of the envoys who had gone to ask
    Charles for justice and protection against the tyranny of Berkeley.
    Charles, as we know, first promised the reforms, and then broke his
    promise, as all Stuarts must. But before the envoys could return with
    their heavy news, there had been stirring things done and suffered in
    Virginia.

    The character of Berkeley is as detestable as any known in the annals of
    the American colonies. Many of his acts, and all the closing scenes of his
    career, seem hardly compatible with moral sanity; in our day, when science
    is so prone to find the explanation of crime in insanity, he would
    undoubtedly have been adjudged to the nearest asylum. In his early years,
    he had been stupid and illiberal, but nothing worse; in his old age, he
    seemed to seek out opportunities of wickedness and outrage, and at last he
    gave way to transports which could only be likened to those of a fiend
    from the Pit, permitted for a season to afflict the earth. He was as base
    as he was wicked; a thief, and perjured, as well as an insatiable
    murderer. The only trait that seems to ally him with manhood is itself
    animal and repulsive. He had wholly abandoned any pretense of
    self-control; and in some of the outbursts of his frenzy he seems to have
    become insensible even to the suggestions of physical fear. But this can
    hardly be accorded the name of courage; rather is it to be attributed to
    the suffusion of blood to the brain which drives the Malay to run amuck.

    Virginia had been nurtured in liberty, and was ill prepared for
    despotism. On the contrary, she was almost ready to doubt the wisdom or
    convenience of any government whatever, except such as was spontaneously
    furnished by the generous and magnanimous instincts of her people. There
    were no towns, and none of the vice and selfishness which crowded
    populations engender. Roads, bridges, public works of any sort were
    unknown; the population seldom met except at races or to witness court
    proceedings. The great planters lived in comparative comfort, but they
    were as much in love with freedom as were the common people. This state of
    things was the outcome of the growth of fifty years; and most of the eight
    thousand inhabitants of the colony were born on the soil, and loved it as
    the only home they knew.

    The chief injury they had suffered was from the depredations of the
    Indians, who, on their side, could plead that they had received less than
    justice at the colonists' hands. Border raids and killings became more and
    more frequent and alarming; the savages had learned the use of muskets,
    and were good marksmen. They built a fort on the Maryland border, and for
    a time resisted siege operations; and when at length some of the chiefs
    came out to parley, they were seized and shot. The rest of the Indian
    garrison escaped by night, and slaughtered promiscuously all whom they
    could surprise along the countryside. A force was raised to check them,
    and avenge the murders; but before it could come in contact with them,
    Berkeley sent out a peremptory summons that they should return.

    What was the explanation of this extraordinary step? Simply that the
    Governor had the monopoly of the Indian trade, which was very valuable,
    and would not permit the Indians who traded with him to be driven away. In
    order to supply his already overloaded pockets with money, he was willing
    to see the red men murder with impunity, and with the brutalities of
    torture and outrage, the men, women and children of his own race. But the
    Indians themselves seem admirable in contrast with the inhumanity of this
    gray-haired, wine-bloated, sordid cavalier of seventy.

    The troops on which the safety of the colonists depended reluctantly
    retired. Immediately the savages renewed their attacks; three hundred
    settlers were killed. Still Berkeley refused to permit anything to be
    done; forts might be erected on the borders, but these, besides being of
    great expense to the people, were wholly useless for their defense,
    inasmuch as the savages could without difficulty slip by them under cover
    of the forest. The raids continued, and the plantations were abandoned,
    till not one in seven remained. The inhabitants were terror-stricken; no
    man's life was safe. At last permission was asked that the people might
    raise and equip a force at their own expense, in the exercise of the
    universal right of self-protection; but even this was violently forbidden
    by the Governor, who threatened punishment on any who should presume to
    take arms against them. All traffic with them had also been interdicted;
    but it was known that Berkeley himself continued his trading with those
    whose hands were red with the blood of the wives, fathers and children of
    Virginia.

    Finally, in 1676, the report came that an army of Indians were
    approaching Jamestown. Unless resistance were at once made, there seemed
    nothing to prevent the extinction of the colony. Berkeley, apparently for
    no better reason than that he would not recede from a position once taken,
    adhered to his order that nothing should be done.

    There was at that time in Virginia a young Englishman of about thirty,
    named Nathaniel Bacon. He was descended from good ancestors, and had
    received a thorough education, including terms in the Inns of Court. He
    was intellectual, thoughtful, and self-contained, with a clear mind, a
    generous nature, and the power of winning and controlling men. He had
    arrived in the colony a little more than a year before, and had been
    chosen to the council; he was wealthy and aristocratic, yet a known friend
    of the people. Born in 1642, he was familiar with revolutions, and had
    formed his own opinions as to the rights of man. He had a plantation on
    the site of the present city of Richmond; and during the late Indian
    troubles, had lost his overseer. Coming down on his affairs to Jamestown,
    he fell into talk with some friends, who suggested crossing the river to
    see some of the volunteers who had come together for defense. These men
    were in a mood of excited exasperation at the sinister conduct of the
    governor, and ready to follow extreme counsels had they had a leader with
    the boldness and ability to put himself at their head.

    The tall, slender figure and grave features of Bacon were well-known. As
    he advanced toward the troop of stalwart young fellows, who were sullenly
    discussing the situation, he was recognized; and something seems to have
    suggested to them that he was come with a purpose. Conclusions are sudden
    at such times, and impulses contagious as fire. He was the leader whom
    they sought. "A Bacon--a Bacon!" shouted some one; and instantly the cry
    was taken up. They thronged around him, welcoming him, cheering him,
    exclaiming that they would follow him, that with them at his back he
    should save the country in spite of the governor! They were fiery and
    emotional, after the manner of the sons of the Old Dominion, and the
    wrongs of many kinds which had long been rankling in their hearts now
    demanded to be requited by some action--no matter how daring. Virginians
    never shrank from danger.

    Bacon had been wholly unprepared for this outburst; but he had a strong,
    calm soul, a ready brain, and the blood of youth. He knew what the colony
    had endured, and that it had nothing to hope from the present government.
    He had come to America after making the European tour, intending only a
    visit; but he had grown attached to Virginia, and now that chance had put
    this opportunity to help her, he resolved to accept it. He would throw in
    his lot with these spirited and fearless young patriots--the first men in
    America who had the right to call the country their own. Standing before
    them, with his head bared, and in a voice that all could hear, he solemnly
    pledged himself to lead them against the Indians, and then aid them to
    recover the liberties which had been wrested from them. "And do you," he
    added, "pledge yourselves to me!" His words were heard with tumultuous
    enthusiasm, and a round-robin was signed, binding all to stick to their
    captain and to one another. That is a document which history would fain
    have preserved.

    With an army of three hundred Virginians, Bacon set forward against the
    Indians. Meanwhile Berkeley, enraged at this slight on his authority,
    called some troops together and despatched them to bring back "the
    rebels." Thus was seen the singular spectacle of a government force
    marching to apprehend men who were risking their lives freely to repel a
    danger imminent and common to all.

    But Berkeley was going too far. Bacon's act had the sympathy of all
    except such as were as corrupt as the governor, and the men of the lower
    counties revolted, and demanded that the long scandal of the continuous
    assembly should cease forthwith. Berkeley was intimidated; he had not
    believed that any spirit was left in the colony; he recalled his men, and
    consented to the assembly's dissolution. By the time Bacon and his three
    hundred got back from their successful campaign, the writs for a new
    election were out; and he was unanimously chosen burgess from Henrico. The
    assembly of which he thus became a member was for the most part in
    sympathy with him; and though, for the benefit of the record, censure was
    passed upon the irregularity of his campaign, and he was required to
    apologize for fighting without a commission, yet he was at the same time
    caressed and praised on all sides, returned to the council, and dubbed the
    darling of Virginia's hopes. The assembly then proceeded to undo all the
    evil and clean out all the rottenness that had disgraced the conduct of
    their predecessors. Taxes, church tyranny, restriction of the franchise,
    illegal assessments, fees, and liquor-dealing were done away with; two
    magistrates were proved thieves and disfranchised, and trade with Indians
    was for the present stopped. Bacon received a commission; but Berkeley
    refused to sign it; and when Bacon appealed to the country, and returned
    with five hundred men to demand his rights, the governor was beside
    himself with fury.

    Private letters and other documents, made public only long after this
    date, are the authority for what occurred; but though certain facts are
    given, explanations are seldom available. Berkeley appears to have been
    holding court when Bacon and his followers appeared; it is said that he
    ran out and confronted them, tore his shirt open and declared that sooner
    should they shoot him than he would sign the commission of that rebel; and
    the next moment, changing his tactics, he offered to settle the issue
    between Bacon and himself by a duel. All this does not sound like the acts
    of a man in his sober senses. It seems probable either that the old
    reprobate was intoxicated, or that his mind was disordered by passion.
    Bacon, of course, declined to match his youthful vigor against his
    decrepit enemy, as the latter must have known he would: and told him
    temperately that the commission he demanded was to enable him to repel the
    savages who were murdering their fellow colonists unchecked. The governor,
    after some further parley, again altered his behavior, and now overpowered
    Bacon with maudlin professions of esteem for his patriotic energy; signed
    his commission, and sent dispatches to England warmly commending him. A
    formal amnesty, obliterating all past acts of the popular champion and his
    supporters which could be construed as irregular, was drawn up and
    ratified by the governor; and the clouds which so long had lowered over
    Virginia seemed to have been at last in the deep bosom of the ocean
    buried. To those whom coincidences interest it will be significant that
    this victory for the people was won on the 4th of July, 1676.

    Operations against the Indians were now vigorously resumed; but Berkeley
    had not yet completed the catalogue of his iniquities. Bacon's back was
    scarcely turned, before he violated the amnesty which he had just
    ratified, and tried to rouse public sentiment against the liberator. In
    this, however, he signally failed, as also in his attempt to raise a levy
    to arrest him; and frightened at the revelation of his weakness, he fled
    in a panic to Accomack, a peninsula on the eastern side of Chesapeake Bay.
    Word of his proceedings had in the meantime been conveyed to Bacon by
    Drummond, former governor of North Carolina, and Lawrence. "Shall he who
    commissioned us to protect the country from the heathen, betray our
    lives?" said Bacon. "I appeal to the king and parliament!" He established
    himself in Williamsburg; at Drummond's suggestion Berkeley's flight was
    taken to mean his withdrawal from the governorship--which, at any rate,
    had now passed its appointed limit--and a summons was sent out to the
    gentlemen of Virginia to meet for consultation as to the future conduct of
    the colony. It was at this juncture that the envoys returned from England,
    with the dark news that Charles had refused all relief.

    At the conference, after full discussion, it was voted that the colony
    take the law into their own hands, and maintain themselves not only
    against the Indians and Berkeley, but if need were against England
    herself. "I fear England no more than a broken straw," said Sarah
    Drummond, snapping a stick in her hands as she spoke: the women of
    Virginia were as resolved as the men. Pending these contingencies, Bacon
    with his little army again set out in pursuit of the Indians; hearing
    which, Berkeley, with a train of mercenaries which he had contrived to
    collect, crossed from Accomack and landed at Jamestown, where he repeated
    his refrain of "rebels!" He promised freedom to whatever slaves of the
    colony would enlist on his side, and fortified the little town. The crews
    of some English ships in the harbor assisted him; and in the sequel these
    tars were the only ones of his rabble that stayed by him. The neighborhood
    was alarmed, fearing any kind of enormity, and messengers rode through the
    woods post haste, and swam the rivers, in the sultry September weather, to
    find and recall their defenders, and summon them to resist a worse foe
    than the red man. Before they could reach the young leader, the Indians
    had been routed, the army disbanded, and Bacon, with a handful of
    followers, was on his way to his plantation. They were weary with the
    fatigues of the campaign, but on learning that the prime source of the
    troubles was intrenched in Jamestown, and that "man, woman and child" were
    in peril of slavery, they turned their horses' heads southeastward, and
    galloped to the rescue. They gathered recruits on their way--no one could
    resist the eloquence of Bacon--and halting at such of the plantations as
    were owned by royalist sympathizers, they compelled their wives to mount
    and accompany them as hostages. This indicates to what extremes the
    violence of Berkeley was expected to go. It was evening when they came in
    sight of the enemy. But the moon was already aloft, and as the western
    light faded, her mellow radiance flooded the scene, giving it the
    semblance of peace. But the impatient Virginians wished to attack at once;
    and a lesser man than Bacon might have yielded to their urging. Knowing,
    however, that the country was with him, and feeling that the enemy must
    sooner or later succumb, he would not win by a dashing, bloody exploit
    what time was sure to give him. He ordered an intrenchment to be dug, and
    prepared for a siege. But there was no lust for battle in the disorderly
    and incoherent force which the frantic appeals and reckless promises of
    the governor had assembled; they were beaten already, and could not be
    induced to make a sortie. Desertions began, and all the objurgations,
    supplications and melodramatic extravaganzas of Berkeley were impotent to
    stop them; the more shrilly he shrieked, the faster did his sorry
    aggregation melt away. When it became evident that there would soon be
    none left save himself and the sailors, he ceased his blustering, and
    scuttled off toward Gloucester and the Rappahannock.

    Bacon, Drummond, Lawrence and their men occupied the abandoned town, in
    which some of them owned houses, and burned it to the ground. The act was
    deliberate; the town records were first removed; and the men who had most
    to lose by the conflagration were the first to set the torch.

    Jamestown at that time contained hardly twenty buildings all told; but it
    was the first settlement of the Dominion, and sentiment would fain have
    preserved it. A mossy ruin, draped in vines, is all that remains of it
    now. The ascertainable causes of its destruction seem inadequate; yet the
    circumstances show that it could not have been done in mere wantonness.
    Civilized warfare permits the destruction of the enemy's property; but the
    enemy had retreated, and the expectation was that he would never return.
    That Bacon had reasons, his previous record justifies us in believing; but
    what they were is matter of conjecture. As it is, the burning of Jamestown
    is the only passage in his brief and gallant career which can be construed
    as a blemish upon it. Unfortunately, it was, also, all but the final one.

    He pursued Berkeley, and the army of the latter, instead of fighting,
    marched over to him with a unanimity which left the governor almost
    without a companion in his chagrin. The whole of Virginia was now in
    Bacon's hand; he had no foes; he was called Deliverer; he had never met
    reverse; he was a man of intellect, judgment and honor, and he was in the
    prime of his youth; in such a country, beloved, and supported by such a
    people, what might he not have hoped to achieve? Men like him are rare; in
    a country just emerging into political consciousness, he was doubly
    precious. There was no one to take his place; the return of Berkeley meant
    all that was imaginable of evil; and yet Bacon was to die, and Berkeley
    was to return.

    In the trenches before Jamestown, Bacon had contracted the seeds of a
    fever which now, in the hour of his triumph, overcame him. After a short
    struggle he succumbed; and his men, fearing, apparently, that the ghoulish
    revenge of the old governor might subject his remains to insult, sunk his
    body in the river; and none know where lie the bones of the first American
    patriot who died in arms against oppression. His worth is proved by the
    confusion and disorganization which ensued upon his death. Cheeseman,
    Hansford, Wilford and Drummond could not make head against disaster. On
    the governor's side, Robert Beverly developed the qualities of a leader,
    and a series of small engagements left the patriots at his mercy. Berkeley
    was re-established in his place; and then began the season of his revenge.

    His victims were the gentlemen of Virginia; the flower of the province.
    He had no mercy; his sole thought was to add insult to the bitterness of
    death. He would not spare their lives; he would not shoot them; they must
    perish on the gallows, not as soldiers, but as rebels. When a young wife
    pleaded for her gallant husband, declaring that it was she who persuaded
    him to join the patriotic movement, Berkeley denied her prayer with coarse
    brutality. When Drummond was brought before him, he assured him of his
    pleasure in their meeting: "You shall be hanged in half an hour." One can
    see that mean, flushed countenance, ravaged by time and intemperance, with
    bloodshot eyes, gloating over the despair of his foes, and searching for
    means to torture their minds while destroying their bodies. Trial by jury
    was not quick or sure enough for Berkeley; he condemned them by
    court-martial and the noose was round their necks at once. Their families
    were stripped of their property and sent adrift to subsist on charity. In
    his bloodthirstiness, he never forgot his pecuniary advantage, and his
    thievish fingers grasped all the valuables that his murderous instincts
    brought within his power. But the spectacle is too revolting for
    contemplation.

    "He would have hanged half the country if we had let him alone," was the
    remark of a member of the assembly. It was voted that the execution should
    cease; more than two-score men had already been strangled for defending
    their homes and resisting oppression. Even Charles in London was annoyed
    when he heard of the wasteful malignity of "the old fool," and sent word
    of his disapproval and displeasure. A successor was sent over to supersede
    him; but he at first refused to go at the king's command, though he had
    ever used the king's name as the warrant for his crimes. He had sold
    powder and shot to the Indians to kill his own people with; he had
    appropriated the substance of widows and orphans whom he had made such; he
    had punished by public whipping all who were reported to have spoken
    against him; he forbade the printing-press; but all had been done "for the
    King". And now he resisted the authority of the king himself. But Charles,
    for once, was determined, and Berkeley, under the disgrace of severe
    reprimand, was forced to go. The joy bells clashed out the people's
    delight as the ship which carried him dropped down the harbor, and the
    firing of guns was like an anticipation of our celebration of Independence
    Day. He stood on the poop, in the beauty of the morning, shaking out
    curses from his trembling hands, in helpless hatred of the fair land and
    gallant people that he had done his utmost to make miserable. In England,
    the king would have none of him, and he met with nothing but rebuffs and
    condemnation on all sides. The power which he had misused was forever
    gone; he was old, and shattered in constitution; he was disgraced,
    flouted, friendless and alone. He died soon after his arrival, of
    mortification; he had lived only to do evil, and to withhold him from it
    was to take his life away.

    It is not the function of the historian to condemn. Berkeley was by birth
    and training an aristocrat and a cavalier, and he was a creature of his
    age and station. He had been taught to believe that the patrician is of
    another flesh and blood than the plebeian; that authority can be enforced
    only by tyranny; that the only right is that of birth, and of the
    strongest. He was early placed in a position where every personal
    indulgence was made easy to him, where there was none to call in question
    his authority, and where there was temptation to assert authority by
    oppression, and by arrogating absolute license to act as the whim
    prompted, and to lay hands on whatever he coveted. Add to these conditions
    a nature congenitally without generous instincts, a narrow brain, and a
    sensual temperament, and we have gone far to account for the phenomenon
    which Berkeley finally, in his approaching senility, presented. He was the
    type of the worst traits that caused England ultimately to forfeit
    America; the concentration of whatever is opposite to popular liberties.
    His deeds must be execrated; but we cannot put him beyond the pale of
    human nature, or deny that under different circumstances he would have
    been a better man. We may admit, too, that, in the wisdom of Providence,
    he was placed where, by doing so much mischief, he was involuntarily the
    cause of more good than he could ever willingly have accomplished. He
    taught the people how to hate despotism, and how to struggle against it.
    He wrought a mutual understanding and sympathy between the upper and lower
    orders; he led them to define to their own minds what things are
    indispensable to the existence of true democracy. These are some of the
    uses which he, and such as he, in their own despite subserved. He and the
    young Bacon were mortal foes; but he, by opposing Bacon, and murdering his
    friends, aided the cause for which they laid down their lives.

    After his departure there ensued a period of ten years or more, during
    which the pressure upon Virginia seemed rather to grow heavier than to
    lighten. The acts of Bacon's assembly were repealed; all the former abuses
    were restored; the public purse was shamelessly robbed; the suffrage was
    restricted; the church was restored to power. In 1677 the Dominion became
    the property of one Culpepper, who had the title of governor for life; and
    the restraints, such as they were, of its existence as a royal colony were
    removed. But Culpepper's course was so corrupt as to necessitate his
    removal, and in 1684 the king resumed his sway. James II. reached the
    English throne the following year, and his persecutions of his enemies in
    England gave good citizens to America. But the Virginians, who could be
    wronged and oppressed, but never crushed, protested against the arbitrary
    use of the king's prerogative; they were punished for their temerity, but
    rose more determined from the struggle. No man could be sent to Virginia
    who was strong enough to destroy its resolve for liberty.

    And now the English Revolution was at hand; and we are to inquire what
    influence the new dispensation was to have on the awakening national
    spirit of the American colonies.
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