Colonial America

by Richard Middleton, Anne Lombard

  In the early twentieth century this episode was portrayed as a bid for independence, with Bacon playing the role of a George Washington, but this interpretation no longer holds credence. Bacon had been in Virginia less than two years, and had no program or philosophy. He was certainly not fighting against the English government. Today, historians are less interested in Bacon's goals than in the motivations of the many planters who participated in the rebellion. Most have concluded this was a populist rebellion fuelled by the resentments of poor and disfranchised planters and servants against the colony's wealthy elite. Berkeley himself described the conflict as pitting the “Rabble” against “the better sort of people.” Indeed, many contemporaries commented on the presence of many blacks among Bacon's followers, suggesting that poverty and lack of opportunity were major sources of shared grievance. Another important shared grievance, it has been suggested, was the frontier settlers' hatred of the Indians, whose land they wanted and had been prevented from taking by the colony's governing elite.3

  As a populist uprising, Bacon's Rebellion was not successful, since Virginia's government became even less responsive to the concerns of ordinary farmers after the rebellion ended. The political reforms passed by Bacon's assembly were lost, notably that relating to the franchise, while several others were amended. The Crown issued a charter which failed to give the assembly any overt recognition. Indeed the next royal governor, Lord Culpepper, had specific instructions not to allow the burgesses the right to initiate legislation. In addition he was to seek a permanent revenue to strengthen royal control. The planters were sufficiently cowed to grant him a two-shilling duty on each hogshead of tobacco exported.

  Though Bacon's Rebellion failed to democratize Virginia's political system, it did reduce some sources of social conflict within the colony. The uprising greatly diminished the number of Native Americans in the region, particularly weakening the Susquehannocks. Divisions over Indian policy became less explosive. The small planters' economic grievances continued, and indeed in 1682 serious riots in Gloucester County were provoked by the low price of tobacco. Nevertheless, Bacon's Rebellion did constitute a watershed, for in the years that followed Virginian society underwent a significant transformation. The planters began to decrease their reliance on white indentured servants for labor and turned instead to African slaves. The consequence of this substitution in the long run was to lessen tensions between poor white planters and Virginia's planter elite.

  The shift from indentured servitude to slavery resulted from a confluence of factors. England's population had declined after 1650, driving up wages. English youths now faced better prospects if they remained in England or (after 1682) emigrated to Pennsylvania, rather than moving to the Chesapeake. Meanwhile African slaves were becoming cheaper. The ending of the Royal African Company's monopoly in 1698 encouraged more traders to enter the slave business. At the same time a decline in the demand for slaves in the Caribbean, where the production of sugar had temporarily peaked, forced many slave traders to look for other markets, dropping their prices at the same time.

  Although these demographic and economic changes were independent of Bacon's Rebellion, memories of the recent uprising made planters particularly interested in purchasing African slaves instead of English servants. African slaves had the advantage of being easier to control. Africans could not claim the rights of English subjects, so they could be prohibited from associating with one another, from bearing arms, and even from being freed. Africans could be exploited more thoroughly than English servants, and they could be isolated on the basis of their nationality and the color of their skin. Finally, unlike indentured servitude, slavery could become self-perpetuating. The children of African slaves could be automatically designated as slaves, so that slaves would reproduce themselves in perpetuity. A series of laws passed in Virginia beginning in 1661 had already begun to regulate the status of African slaves in the same ways as slaves were regulated in Barbados. These rules made it more difficult for them to move upward in Virginia society and closed off the kinds of options once available to men and women like Anthony and Mary Johnson.

  A final reason for the increased trade in Africans was the changing attitude of the planters towards Virginia itself. Until the 1680s most planters aimed to make their fortune quickly so that they could retire to England. It did not make sense to pay the extra cost of a slave whose labor the owner might not live to enjoy. Short-term white indentures were far more cost-effective even if it meant replacing the workforce every four or five years and knowing that some ex-servants would buy plantations and become competitors. Now profound demographic changes in the colony were encouraging more planters to think in the long term. Until 1680 Virginia had been overwhelmingly a land of immigrants with short life spans. Now a growing percentage of the population was native-born, with greater immunity to disease than their parents and a longer life expectancy. The gender ratio gradually became more even, and the new Creole generation were also able to marry earlier and raise larger families.4

  In consequence a white native population evolved which could see not only the advantages of a permanent slave labor force, especially one that reproduced itself, but also the attractions of their environment. Virginia was their home, not a temporary refuge, and as a result they now built for the future. At last, after nearly 100 years, the crude wattle-and-daub structures inhabited by even the richest planters in the colony's early years now began to give way to grander houses, often of brick, or at least with brick chimneys and foundations. The wealthier inhabitants began to enjoy English standards of comfort.5 Political and social horizons also changed. Even the most successful no longer thought of returning to England, instead aspiring to become local grandees who served on the council or assembly and developed institutions like the College of William and Mary, which received its charter in 1692. Local pride was also behind the writing of Robert Beverley, Jr.'s History of Virginia, in which he described the province as the “best poor man's country.” Unknowingly the colony had changed from a crude frontier society to the more sophisticated type of province which was to be so conspicuous a feature during the eighteenth century.

  There was one other important, though unanticipated, development which resulted from these changes, including the new restrictions being placed on African slaves. This was the different relationship between the elite and the rest of the white population. No longer was it one of exploiter and exploited; the position of the exploited had been taken over by the African Americans. Tidewater Virginia was no longer a “society with slaves,” in which slaves were only one among several groups of exploited workers. It had become a “slave society,” in which the fundamental social division was now the division between masters and slaves. Herein lay the reason for the new amity among whites. The small planters constituted the bulk of the militia and would be responsible for suppressing any uprising by the slaves. Almost subconsciously the grandees began to cooperate more with their less affluent neighbors, helping them market their crops, giving them credit, and assisting them in numerous other ways. They were encouraged to do so because this attitude complemented the new image they had of themselves as leaders of a civilized provincial society. The effect of their behavior was to make poor whites feel like they too were part of the privileged class, who had a stake in maintaining the social order.

  2 Massachusetts: The Struggle to Remain Self-Governing

  Massachusetts, like the other New England colonies, had achieved remarkable social stability during its early decades. Even so, in Massachusetts just as in Virginia, internal social stresses, tensions between English settlers and native populations, and an ongoing conflict over political authority within the colony gave rise to a bitter war in 1675.

  The English settler population in Massachusetts had continued to grow since the colony's founding and to expand the amount of land under cultivation with each new generation. Most settlers were family farmers who produced food for their own use and employed their children, par
ticularly teenaged and adult sons, as their main labor force. Sons spent years working to cultivate and improve their fathers' farms. Typically, they were rewarded at some point around their late twenties either with a share of the family land or with help in purchasing a new plot of land in a more remote and less settled location.

  Though subsistence farming remained the norm, more commercial opportunities were emerging in and around Massachusetts. As Dutch merchants were forced out of the carrying trade to the West Indies, merchants and entrepreneurs in Boston and Salem began building ships to engage in the carrying trade for themselves. Indeed, Massachusetts shipbuilders soon found they had competitive advantages over shipbuilders in England, with cheap lumber readily available to them from suppliers in New Hampshire and Maine. As trade increased, New England farmers also began to prosper. West Indian planters were shifting out of food production and into sugar, creating opportunities for farmers in southern New England to earn modest amounts of cash by raising extra cattle and hogs to ship to Barbados and (after 1655) Jamaica.

  Their increasing prosperity was undeniable, but in this profoundly religious society, commercial growth could be a source of anxiety as much as optimism. Massachusetts magistrates and clerics worried that along with the growth of commerce had come a decline in religious zeal. The second generation appeared forgetful of why the first had come to Massachusetts and displayed a distinct preference for acquiring material wealth – particularly land. As one leading minister commented, “Land hath been the idol of New England … they that profess themselves Christians, have foresaken Churches, and Ordinances, and all for land.”

  Typical of this new hunger for wealth was the example of Winthrop's own son, John. From an early stage he was involved in the settling of the Connecticut Valley, driven by speculative rather than spiritual considerations. Then in 1644 he tried to establish a blast furnace and iron foundry on the Saugus River and also to exploit other metals like lead, tin, and copper. His later involvement in the capture of New York was similarly rooted in commercial motives, as was his participation in the activities of the Atherton Company, which sought to secure the Narragansett country from its native owners. Winthrop also helped found several Massachusetts towns, notably Ipswich, even though he resided there for only a few months. New settlements were always anxious to attract the support of wealthy sponsors, offering them in return a share of the land.

  The Pynchon family of Springfield presented a similar example. John Pynchon followed his father, William, in establishing a virtual monopoly of wealth in this frontier community. Thirty percent of the population were Pynchon's tenants, and few escaped that status, unless they were foreclosed. Pynchon helped too in the establishment of several new towns. Such activities made Winthrop and Pynchon, in effect, professional town promoters.

  It was not only the wealthy who were acting in an entrepreneurial fashion. Sometimes entire towns speculated in land. The proprietors of Dedham, anticipating the day when land might no longer be available for their descendants, obtained a grant from the general court for the establishment of Deerfield in western Massachusetts. Few actually left Dedham, and only those with capital to invest stood to benefit. Similar ventures were undertaken by other long-established towns.

  Some historians have argued that what was taking place was a fundamental transition from a community-based society, dedicated to the observance of God's covenant, to one which was aggressively capitalistic and individualistic. The concept of the just price, once cherished by the Puritan founders, had given way to the more competitive values of the marketplace. Usury, or lending money for interest, was no longer considered extortion. In consequence, capital was triumphing over labor. The Puritan was being replaced by the Yankee.

  In fact, such materialism was not incompatible with the Puritans' religious zeal, and in some ways was actually the product of it. The early Puritans had never ignored the economic benefits of their new commonwealth. They had always encouraged capital investment to develop public works, trade, and the shipping industry. And their religiously motivated work ethic had helped to spur the slow, steady economic expansion of the economy, despite an inhospitable climate.6 Thus most historians have now rejected the view that religious commitment in New England was in decline.

  Still, Puritan leaders worried constantly that their holy experiment was failing. Why they should have felt such anxiety in the face of success has been a persistent problem for historians to explain. Several factors were undoubtedly at work. One is that the Puritan movement had become less cohesive and less influential in England after the Restoration, and the Puritans in Massachusetts were under growing pressure to reform their political system. The Crown's commission had in 1665 issued a report recommending legal changes in Massachusetts (such as imposing limited religious toleration). If implemented, such changes would threaten the colony's distinctive religious culture. Another factor was the growing visibility of religious and political dissent as the Puritans' political authority grew less secure. For example, Boston's Baptists, who in the past had been fined repeatedly for failing to attend worship services in a Congregational church, openly proclaimed their status as a church in 1665. Even the elect appeared to be growing more litigious. Such a development was not surprising in a society that was becoming more complex and more commercial. However, for the Puritans it sent a distressing signal that the people's commitment to building a godly commonwealth had waned. With their providential view of history, Puritan ministers were inclined to see these events as evidence of God's judgment against them. Their frustration increasingly resulted in jeremiads, or sermons forecasting damnation and hell for their flock unless they returned to the way of the Lord.

  The Puritans' concerns about their society's political future were bound up as well with their concerns about the religious welfare of the next generation. The number of young people seeking full church membership had been declining for at least a decade. As a result the number of full church members was shrinking relative to the total settler population. The children of the unregenerate (that is, nonmembers) could not be baptized and therefore could not become saints, thus further decreasing the church's eligible membership. Although many parents accepted their own exclusion from full membership, they were distressed that their children must always be denied the chance of salvation. Colonial leaders were as concerned as the parents. Declining church membership meant fewer men would qualify to vote or serve in office. If the Puritans became a minority in Massachusetts, how could they shoulder the burden of creating a godly society whose members lived according to divine law?

  In an attempt to resolve this dilemma, in 1662 the ministers agreed to the Half-Way Covenant, permitting the baptism of children even though the parents were not of the elect. The hope was that the offspring might succeed where the parents had failed. Since the Puritans were congregational, however, it was left to the individual churches to implement the new covenant. Ironically many refused, on the grounds that the Half-Way Covenant undermined the fundamental standards of Puritanism. This stance has led many historians to conclude that the colonists continued to be as committed to Puritan ideals as ever.7

  Massachusetts leaders became ever more anxious as the Crown continued to intrude into the colony's affairs. The 1673 Navigation Act had empowered the governor of each colony to appoint a naval officer to monitor its implementation within that colony, but the Massachusetts governor had failed to appoint one. In 1675 the newly appointed Lords of Trade issued a stern warning requiring all the navigation laws to be observed, and soon sent a special envoy, Edward Randolph, to check on Massachusetts' compliance. The Massachusetts general court was determined to remain self-governing. The members believed that since Massachusetts was not represented in Parliament, Parliament's laws were not valid in the colonies. As Governor John Leverett bluntly told Randolph on his first visit in 1676, “The Laws made by your Majesty and your parliament obligeth them in nothing but what consists with the interest” of the colony, for “the leg
islative power abides in them solely” by virtue of the charter. The most that the commonwealth would do was to pass duplicate legislation as a gesture of goodwill.

  By 1675, the English government was not the Puritans' only problem, for their Indian allies had begun to resist the authority of the colonial governments as well. Massachusetts had effectively subordinated its Native American allies since 1643, following Miantonimo's execution. After 1660, however, the Indians became emboldened to question their subordinate status as they realized that the authority of the Massachusetts officials was under threat. The Narragansetts successfully petitioned the royal commissioners in 1664 to remove their land from the control of Massachusetts and place them under the direct protection of the king. Similarly King Philip,8 Massassoit's successor as the tribal leader of the Wampanoags, had gone to the king's commissioners to obtain confirmation of his own people's rights to their land. The effect of these actions was to undermine local political power over the Indians by removing colonial governments from the chain of authority. Colonial officials had good reason to worry that they were losing control.9

  As time went on, many New England Indians, notably the Wampanoags, Narragansetts, Mohegans, Poducks, and Nipmucks, became divided among themselves over their continuing alliance with the English. For some time relations with the settlers had been deteriorating. The settlers' population expansion placed tremendous pressure on the livelihoods of the native peoples, which were particularly compromised when the white settlers' hogs and cattle strayed into their fields. Their game had been driven away and the fur trade ceased. The demise of the fur trade undermined ties that had helped the New England Indians to maintain friendly relations with the Iroquois, making them vulnerable to devastating attacks from the north. Significant numbers of Indians had become utterly dependent on the English for their livelihoods, working as casual laborers on English farms and converting to Christianity. Some Indian sachems, meanwhile, resented the activities of missionaries like John Eliot, since the Christianization of their people undermined the authority of the chiefs and shamans. They also resented the periodic attempts by Massachusetts and Plymouth officials to reassert their dominance over indigenous peoples.