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Part 12 of a series
EVEN AS THE STIRRING events at Yorktown were taking place in October 1781, the Virginia House of Delegates was reconvening in Richmond, having sat at Charlottesville and then briefly at Staunton after fleeing the Capitol in May.
In view of the wartime crises that clamored for the attention of the delegates, it might seem strange that their first act on Nov. 5 was the incorporation of Fredericksburg.
By the fall of 1781, the citizens of Fredericksburg, perhaps more than most Virginians, had experienced fear of invasion, ruinous inflation, and appropriation of their produce, horses, and wagons to supply the troops now fighting on Virginia soil.
Under these extreme conditions, Fredericksburg had also been without a court since May 1780, when the military pre-empted the courthouse. (The justices had moved to temporary quarters at Holladay's tavern, awaiting the completion of their courthouse on the Po River.)
Fredericksburg's problems were deemed sufficiently urgent to be given immediate attention once the delegates returned after their five-month exile from the Capitol.
Legislation was the speediest way to remedy the lack of court service and other problems for the unhappy residents. A law incorporating Fredericksburg was passed only two weeks after the British surrender at Yorktown.
The brief act called for the election of 12 councilmen, who were to choose from among themselves a mayor and a recorder and four council members designated as aldermen. These gentlemen were authorized to hold a Court of Hustings on the third Monday of each month. That court would have the authority to hear cases originating within the town "in the same manner as the county courts may do."
The Common Council had the authority to pass ordinances and assess the citizens for the repair of the roads. Its principal charge was to hold a market twice a week, to be managed by a Clerk of the Market.
What the act did not make explicit was that the town was in shambles. When the first elections were held in March 1782, there was not a public building fit for the council to meet in. It was convened in the Coffee House at the corner of Caroline and Amelia streets.
In fact, nothing worked. The Town House, the courthouse, the prison--all were damaged and unusable after occupation by the Continental and Virginia troops. What passed for a fire engine did not function, and the water buckets were gone. The streets were in terrible condition. Because of lawlessness and drunkenness, residents feared for their safety and their property.
Some additional evidence of destruction can be deduced. We know, for instance, that the ferry access at the foot of Wolfe Street had been heavily damaged by the troop crossings. And there had probably been at least one fire--the Long Ordinary, the largest and most prestigious Colonial tavern, had evidently disappeared.
Fredericksburg was now set apart from the county and left to its own devices to bring about order for the 1,000 residents, establish and oversee the operation of a semiweekly market, repair and administer the public facilities once supervised by the county court, see to the needs once administered by the church--and pay for it all.
We can only regret that not one person was moved to chronicle wartime Fredericksburg in 1780 and 1781, either in correspondence or a journal or diary. Not even the awesome sight of 6,000 British prisoners marching through town was committed to local memory.
There is, however, a place we can go to learn about life in Fredericksburg during those first years of the decade, and that is the Virginiana Room of the Central Rappahannock Regional Library on Caroline Street. There we can read firsthand--on microfilm and in printed abstracts--about the drastic measures it took to restore order and bring relief to the citizens of this town.
Fredericksburg has 220 years of council minutes among its priceless historic resources. The minutes from the very first meeting inform us of the most urgent tasks:
Repair the prison.
Curb the hogs running wild in the streets.
Forbid slaves to sell articles of property without the written consent of their masters.
Require all tavern keepers to be licensed.
At the next meeting, the council ruled that servants and slaves from both town and county were to be punished with 39 lashes at the whipping post if caught "riotously assembling" or gaming.
The public market was to commence on April 16, to be held each Wednesday and Saturday morning. This required immediate regulations on a vast array of wares to be offered, ranging from wood and hay to meat, oysters, cheese, and bread.
Detailed instructions were issued not only for quality and price but for sizes and weights.
A public seal was ordered, "a device of a hand and scale, with the words 'the Corporation of Fredericksburg' around it."
The creation of the market was such a priority that it had been made a requirement in the act of incorporation.
One had only to remember that food had been scarce to the vanishing point for months as the war was fought on Virginia soil. Further, the 6,000 prisoners who marched through town only five months earlier had been supplied by order with provisions, and several hundred wounded prisoners remained at the Alum Springs for many months.
The most important town employee was the Clerk of the Market. Joseph Berry was installed--literally--being allowed to build a house on the hilly part of the market lot. He was also the Town Crier, summoning the citizens to the Market House for voting or for meetings or important announcements. (Among Mary Washington's funeral expenses in 1789 was a fee to Joseph Berry for "carrying messages and tolling the bell.")
Regulations multiplied. The meat and fish stalls were assigned a place at the rear of the market lot. The lot was "paled in" with railings. A well was dug.
While the downstairs of the Town House became the Market House, the upper floor continued as before, with a variety of uses. The council administered a Market House account and at first paid rent to hold meetings in the building. The upper floor was rented out for balls and entertainments.
Meanwhile, the public square became less public. The church had received permission to sell its Caroline Street half to commercial purchasers in 1776. After the war, this former church property became merchants' stores.
To raise revenues, the council proposed in 1789 to sell much of the Market Lot in parcels. The plan was dropped, no doubt because the arrangement proposed was congested and impractical. A more successful plan was adopted in 1795, and the William Street side was divided into parcels and sold. Part of this configuration is still in place.
With the first ordinances posted at the Town House, the council turned to other priorities: repair of the public buildings and keeping order in the streets.
Council members were assigned to assess the damage to the courthouse, prison and church. The Town House was a special case. Damages were sought and about $1,500 was eventually received from the United States government. The rest of the cost of repairs was made up by a private subscription sanctioned by the council. The Masons were heavy supporters, contributing both money and material; they were granted permanent meeting privileges.
Fire and the lack of equipment were everyone's concern. The council identified 15 wooden chimneys and ordered them torn down or made fireproof.
Because the residents were afraid for their safety and property, the council passed one of the most unusual gun-control ordinances of all time. The discharge of firearms was forbidden except for the shooting of hogs and mad dogs. The fine was a steep 20 shillings (one pound).
Owners of drays who had been speeding their wagons to the market were ordered to walk their horses.
The council counted the tithables (able-bodied adults)--there were 265--and assessed 3 shillings on each for the repair of the streets. White tithables were also assigned to street patrol duty.
As the months passed, the work of repairing and adapting continued. The gun factory became a temporary hospital for infectious diseases. A ducking stool was ordered for the public lot next to the ferry. A new powder magazine was ordered near the old gunnery site.
New positions were added. There was a geographer (surveyor) to enforce the observance of lot lines, which had been much violated. A vendue master was to run a monthly public sale with a percentage going to the corporation. There was a gauger (measurer) of liquors, and a harbor master. These appointees received a percentage of their receipts or fees as compensation.
Fire concerns continued. A house was built on the market lot and a bell installed; residents were encouraged to donate their fire-fighting tools to a common storage. They were also encouraged to organize into voluntary fire companies.
In a departure from Colonial practices, three standing committees were created--to supervise the market, oversee the needs of the poor, and rent out what had been the public wharf for income.
With the county court now removed to the Po River, and the Anglican church officially "disestablished" as part of the government, there was no public calendar to stimulate land transactions, tavern business, and entertainments.
The tobacco trade was declining, and ships arriving from England and Scotland no longer dominated the rhythm of town life.
But we should not be surprised to learn that the somber tone in the council minutes was not reflected in other glimpses of the 1780s. The return of some pleasures came rather quickly--balls, fairs, and the Jockey Club races.
The population grew by as much as 50 percent, a growth rate that would challenge modern local governments. Much of it was from a rising middle class, for towns offered opportunities for artisans and craftsmen as well as merchants.
There was a post office. There were several new schools besides the Fredericksburg Academy--teaching commercial subjects and also ladies' deportment.
The first private wharf was built by James Somerville at the foot of Frederick Street.
And most important of all, in 1786 there was a town newspaper, which revolutionized not only town life, but what we can learn about it.
PAULA S. FELDER of Fredericksburg is a historian and author specializing in the area's 18th-century past. She will accept questions about the series or specific neighborhoods. Contact her by mail in care of Gwen Woolf, The Free Lance-Star, 616 Amelia St., Fredericksburg, Va. 22401, or by e-mail to gwoolf@freelancestar.com. "Fredericksburg's Origins" also can be followed on The Free Lance-Star's Web site at Fredericksburg.com/News/FLS/Projects/cityhistory/index_html.
Next week: A decade of new enterprise--and new concerns: the 1790s
In 1786, Timothy Green came to Fredericksburg as a young man of 23 and began The Virginia Herald and Fredericksburg Advertiser.
Green was from a Connecticut family of printers and publishers. Unquestionably, much of the growth and prosperity of the town were attributable to the newspaper, which made possible a whole new world of business, social, and government communication. The newspaper contained:
World and national news, proclamations, addresses
Legislation passed by the Virginia House of Delegates
Letters and essays debating political issues
Instructions and ordinances issued by the council
Arrangements for patriotic ceremonies
Ship arrivals and departures
Schedules for the stage and the mails
Letters waiting at the post office
Legal notices
Houses and land for sale
New merchandise in the stores
Partnerships begun and dissolved
Tavern offerings
Balls, entertainments, and celebrations
Lost-and-found ads
Information on schools
Slave sales
Lists of runaways
Horses, horses, horses--and races, races, races
Today, we take our newspapers for granted, for we have never been without them. But we should pause to reflect on what life would have been like when news and events and summonses to meetings were signaled by the town crier or by the ringing of the bell in the public square.
That was Fredericksburg's communication network before a newspaper began in 1786.