Bacon had now become a hero of the people, a Siegfried
capable of slaying the dragon. Nor were Lawrence and Drummond idle, nor
others of their way of thinking. The Indian troubles might soon be settled,
but why not go further, marching against other troubles, more subtle and
long-continuing, and threatening all the future?
In the midst of this speculation and promise of change, the Governor,
feeling the storm, dissolved the Assembly, proclaimed Bacon and his
adherents rebels and traitors, and made a desperate attempt to raise an
army for use against the new-fangledness of the time. This last he could
not do. Private interest led many planters to side with him, and there was
a fair amount of passionate conviction matching his own, that his Majesty
the King and the forces of law and order were being withstood, and without
just cause. But the mass of the people cried out to his speeches, "Bacon!
Bacon!" As the popular leader had been warned from Jamestown by news of
personal danger, so in his turn Berkeley seems to have believed that his
own liberty was threatened. With suddenness he departed the place, boarded
a sloop, and was "wafted over Chesapeake Bay thirty miles to Accomac." The
news of the Governor's flight, producing both alarm in one party and
enthusiasm in the other, tended to precipitate the crisis. Though the
Indian trouble might by now be called adjusted, Bacon, far up the York, did
not disband his men. He turned and with them marched down country, not to
Jamestown, but to a hamlet called Middle Plantation, where later was to
grow the town of Williamsburg.
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