John Buckner, The Immigrant

He didn’t ask permission. He took matters into his own hands and paid the price. The people knew he was right, but the King disagreed.

The Printing Press, 1682

My hands trembled from anticipation or old age—probably both. I felt the excitement of a younger man, holding cotton rag papers the printer had given me, careful not to smudge the barely dry sepia ink.

“You will be famous for this someday, William Nuthead,” I said, wincing at the ink’s blood-like odor.

“Famous. . . or imprisoned. And you will be with me either way, Mr. Buckner.”

William was right. We knew the risks we were taking. Printing of any kind, for any reason, was prohibited throughout the Virginia Colony.

I had not petitioned the government for a printing license. In fact, a printing press had not existed in our colony until a few weeks earlier, when, at my behest, William Nuthead arrived from England with his press and supplies. I financed his journey, knowing the crime we would commit. William knew too, but still agreed, proving he was precisely the type of man I wanted to sponsor—a man with courage, daring to risk his life and fortune to follow his dreams and bring his noble trade into the untamed wilderness.

“The Acts of the Virginia Assembly, 1680.” I read the headline aloud, leaning back in my wooden chair.

“I’ve waited a long time for this, William. Until now, the burgesses, our government representatives, have had to carry hand-scratched notes back to their counties and report to their constituents. There’s no telling what kind of variation exists in those scribbles, assuming they made it back to the citizens. Now, all residents will read the Assembly’s laws uniformly—at least those who can read.”

William sat in a chair facing me. “Why has it taken so long, Mr. Buckner? The Puritans in the Massachusetts Bay Colony have long operated a press. I saw their educational pamphlets in London. I find it hard to believe after seven decades of travel between the Virginia Colony and England, no one solicited the Royal Government for permission to print.”

What could I say? Not even I, John Buckner—landowner, planter, merchant, and well-educated—had pursued the endeavor.

“You’ve asked a fine question, young man. There’s no simple answer.” Propping my feet on the writing desk, I relaxed.

William had learned I love telling a good story.

“When we sailed to Gloucester Point more than twenty years ago, we were focused on clearing land, negotiating with the Indians, planting tobacco, establishing our families and a new economy—basics to our survival. We dreamed of creating a comfortable lifestyle with the liberties we enjoyed in England, knowing it would take years to come to fruition. In the meantime, we managed the best we could.

“Books, tutors, and newspapers came from England, and I sent my sons back across the Atlantic for schooling. In time, Governor William Berkeley, who had governed the Virginia Colony for several years before I came, appointed me as county clerk. I was honored, but I realized then how badly we needed the ability to print our own materials.

“Sir Berkeley and King Charles the First were adamantly opposed to it from the beginning. My blood still boils recalling Berkeley’s rant: ‘But I thank God, there are no free schools nor printing and I hope we shall not have, these hundred years, for learning has brought disobedience, and heresy, and sects into the world, and printing has divulged them, and libels against the best government, God keep us from both.’

“How imbecilic, and he knew better. Sir Berkeley was an innovative planter—an agricultural scientist, no less—but he upheld the conventional mindset of the Royal Government. So, when he was removed from his position, I took matters into my own hands, and with the Almighty God’s favor, here you are—the first printer in the Virginia Colony.

“Having to ask permission for every advancement of our society is unsustainable. Independence from the crown will become necessary.”

William returned to his apprentice at the press while I reviewed each word printed on the leaflets. We had abbreviated words to fit the print on two pages, but we didn’t want to be accused of misrepresenting the acts. Every landowner and merchant needed to be aware of the law’s intent.

“We must get these papers into the hands of the landowners. When will you have a hundred made?” I asked.

“Soon,” William said. “I’ll give the ink time to dry completely so it darkens and stabilizes. Are your sons ready to distribute them?”

“Yes, they’re ready.”

William raised his eyebrows. “Are they prepared for the risk?”

“Yes. Thomas and Richard can defend themselves. They know how to handle their weapons, if needed. I suspect it will be a few weeks, maybe longer, before the governor is aware of our project. Lord Culpeper, the selfish fool who replaced Sir Berkeley, has not crossed the Atlantic in months. I hope he’ll agree the printing press is an essential service to our growing economy.”

* * *

The aroma from the warm boiled venison packed in my wife’s supper basket stirred hunger grumblings in my stomach, though I had already eaten my portion. She also had prepared meals for the printer and his apprentice so they could work through the night without interruption.

Rory, a fire-headed Irishman and one of my favorite hands, was completing his indentured servitude by apprenticing under William in the print shop. He was a quick learner with a quicker wit and, as a soon-to-be freeman, would need skills other than packing dried tobacco leaves into barrels and rolling them to waiting ships.

Wiping ink-stained hands on leather aprons, the two sat at the desk to eat.

“Ah, please tell Mrs. Buckner we are grateful for her fine cooking,” William said, reaching for the food basket.

I sensed something was bothering him.

He paused between bites and looked at me.

“Rory and I have been wondering about. . . well. . . what is the punishment for printing without a license?”

Were they getting cold feet? I couldn’t blame them. No doubt Rory had witnessed the public shaming of men shackled in wooden stocks and pillories at the town square. William must have seen them, too. I had wondered if they had considered the consequences, should they be found guilty of a crime.

“I’m not sure.” I struggled to admit our offence might be punishable. “It depends on the court’s perspective. We are testing the Monarch’s position on printing in the Virginia Colony. Will Governor Culpeper and King Charles the Second be merciful and rightly change the law? Or will we be found guilty and sentenced harshly?”

I had convinced myself that we were acting with reasonable cause. But could we sway His Majesty’s opinion?

“Often, crimes and disputes result in a fine and an order to cease and desist. Fines are paid in tobacco certificates, if the defendant is able, since that’s the only commodity of real value around here.

“Of course, the court could order the destruction of your press, William.”

“I would rather die,” William said.

Rory shifted in his chair.

“Since I have no land nor tobacco, how will I pay a fine?” Rory asked.

“We could be imprisoned. Rory, in your case, they may impose an extension of your servitude.” I felt his disappointment. “It all depends on His Majesty’s mood.”

I omitted the more severe punishments like branding or dunking. No need to scare them. For myself, I knew of men being stripped of their land holdings or even being put to death. Though unlikely, I was prepared to forfeit my land—or even my life—for the right to print, yet I had denied William and Rory the chance to decide for themselves.

“Mr. Buckner, I believe you have the King’s favor.” William’s face flushed with excitement. “Your land holdings are immense. You are the county clerk and a vestryman. Maybe you’ll receive only a mild admonition, with the court’s benevolence?”

I had resources—land, tobacco, and reputation—but these men had nothing. And their actions were my responsibility.

“Gentlemen, you’re operating in my name. I will pay the fine if one is ordered. I have friends and foes in the Assembly, and all have been unwilling to challenge the existing situation. If the ruling is not in our favor, there will be public humiliation, in one form or another. I’m willing to pay the price for the ultimate good of the people, but I’m an old man. You are young with many good years ahead. If you’re unwilling to accept the punishment, whatever it may be, then I release you now.”

The two men considered their options.

William said, “I’m proud to stand with you, Mr. Buckner. This is a cause worth fighting for.”

We shook hands.

Rory thought for a moment longer. “I serve at your will, Mr. Buckner. You have been honorable and fair these past seven years. I don’t want to spoil my chance of freedom, but I don’t believe you would have taken this risk if you thought you would lose.”

* * *

We heard the tired clip-clop of hooves in the cool, gray autumn air outside. I expected their riders, my sons, Thomas and Richard, would be weary, too, having traveled the county for a week putting printed leaflets into the hands of the landowners—some royalists, some rebels.

“On the road toward Port Royal settlement, we passed dozens of hogsheads rumbling along the rolling paths.” Thomas explained for William’s benefit. “Their cylindrical shape makes light work for oxen to roll the casks to warehouses. Judging by the numbers we saw, I’d wager growers are still harvesting record amounts of tobacco.”

“Then we can expect prices to drop further this season,” I said.

“We followed the Rappahannock River southeastward, delivering flyers to as many landowners as we could find,” Richard said.

“Did you have any troubles?” I asked.

“Nothing serious. The worst was dodging wayward hogsheads rolling downhill,” Richard chuckled. “But the workers were most helpful.”

William and I were eager to hear the landowners’ reactions.

“In the taverns, we heard men grumbling about the regulations, even before they read our leaflets. Planters still use the same creeks and roads they’ve used for years, transporting tobacco to the river ports. They see no advantage in building a central port as the new regulations require, claiming the policies line the pockets of the King and his cronies. I doubt the rebels will comply. The cost is more than their profit,” Thomas said.

“That’s what I expected,” I said. “However, it is the law. It’s difficult for growers to understand how centralizing and limiting the number of ports will improve tobacco prices. Planters have invested everything, including their blood and sweat, in their land and tobacco, but they’ll starve. Tobacco is too plentiful, and prices are too low. The last thing they want is to be told what to do, especially by an absent governor and Charles the Merry Monarch.”

The men laughed, aware of King Charles’ reputation of having countless illegitimate heirs.

“Gentlemen, our work has just begun. The citizens can now make decisions based on facts, not hearsay. If the governor decides to enforce these laws, Virginia colonists will be informed.

“We got word that Lord Culpeper will arrive soon. Apparently, His Majesty was appalled that Culpeper had not stepped foot on our soil in two years, while still getting paid his governor’s stipend. So, gentlemen, we will be discovered soon enough. I wish I could tell you how this will turn out, but I don’t know.”

* * *

Heavy footsteps on the wood planks outside told me our visitors were not here for a social call. Even before I saw their faces, I knew the two men and why they were here.

“Good afternoon, Henry, James.” I did not extend my hand. “Your business must be important to have traveled such a distance.”

Being Gloucester County Clerk had many advantages, including knowing the names of most colonists. I had met these men and other royal court couriers on my many trips to Jamestown, Virginia Colony’s distinguished capital.

“Hello, Mr. Buckner,” Henry said, without removing his hat or coat.

“What news do you bring to our fair community?” I saw the folded paper in his hand.

It had been a full month since our printing and distribution of the 1680 Virginia Colony Acts. Landowners had read and discussed them within their communities. Rumors had spread of Lord Culpeper’s anger after having seen my leaflet, preparing me to expect a visit from Jamestown officials.

Henry gave me a hand-written missive and waited while I read.

By His Excellency Thomas Lord Culpeper, Baron of Thoresway,
Governor of His Majesty’s Colony of Virginia

To John Buckner, of Gloucester County,

Whereas it hath come to our attention that you, the said John Buckner, and your associate, William Nuthead, have caused to be printed and distributed sundry papers and leaflets within this Colony, and whereas such printing hath been undertaken without license or lawful authority, contrary to the statutes and proclamations governing the press and the peace of His Majesty’s dominions:

You are hereby summoned to appear before the Governor and Council at the Capitol in Jamestown on the tenth day of November in the year of our Lord sixteen hundred and eighty-two, at the hour of nine in the morning, to answer for the said offense and to show cause why further proceedings should not be had against you for the unlawful exercise of the printing trade.

Fail not at your peril.

Given under my hand and seal at Jamestown, this third day of November, in the year of our Lord sixteen hundred and eighty-two, and in the thirty-fourth year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord King Charles the Second.

Thomas Culpeper
Governor of the Virginia Colony

The following Monday morning, William and I set off on our journey from Gloucester Point to Jamestown. Horseback travel through swampy trails would have taken more than a week, so we chose the fastest way to get to Jamestown—a chartered ship. Sailing down the York River, into Chesapeake Bay, and upstream on the James River, the winds were in our favor. The November weather was cool, but the sun shone on us, which I received as a favorable omen.

Feeling invigorated by the cool breeze and sunshine, I walked the deck and found William staring into the waves.

“William, are you feeling well? You look a bit pale.”

“Just a little anxious, Sir,” William said. “I’m wondering. . . can you tell me what to expect when we meet Lord Culpeper?”

I was no staunch supporter of Thomas Culpeper, nor any other royal elitist tasked with regulating the colonists. But I tolerated the system and used it to my advantage, as all the Virginia landowners had done to amass wealth.

“The main thing to know about Thomas Culpeper is that he has no real interest in governing Virginia. He has lived under the crown’s patronage all his life, just like his father. The family was granted thousands of acres between the Potomac and the Rappahannock rivers. King Charles appointed Lord Thomas to succeed Berkeley as governor, but Thomas is more interested in collecting his salary than living here.”

We docked at Jamestown by midafternoon, allowing plenty of time for a meal at the tavern, called an ordinary, and an overnight stay at the inn.

I had been to Jamestown many times for various reasons—sometimes to weigh tobacco and pay taxes, sometimes to take claim of land grants awarded to me by His Majesty. But I had never walked these streets as a citizen accused of a crime, planning my defense.

The next morning, upon arriving at the Statehouse, a fashionable structure as fine as any building in England, we were shown into the governor’s council chamber. Culpeper seemed annoyed that he had to confront us. There was no friendly banter.

“Mr. Buckner, please introduce your associate to the court,” the governor said.

“Your honor, this is Mr. William Nuthead. Four months ago, he came from London to Gloucester County at my behest and sponsorship.”

“Gentlemen, you stand before this Council accused of printing materials without license or royal sanction. Mr. Buckner, do you understand the gravity of this offense?”

Thomas Culpeper and I were near the same age. I had lived here for decades and raised my sons and daughter in this colony. Culpeper had only visited a few times in his tenure as governor. Maintaining my composure, I tried not to sound resentful of his condescending attitude toward me.

“I do, Your Lordship. But I beg leave to explain my actions.” I hated groveling, but I knew how to play the game.

“You may speak. But know this—His Majesty’s laws are not subject to the whims of colonists.”

“I understand, Your Honor. I asked Mr. Nuthead to print the 1680 Virginia Assembly Acts as stated from the council assembly you held that year. The burgesses had carried handwritten notes back to their constituents, leading to misunderstandings and miscommunications. There was no intent to defy the Crown, but rather to clarify and educate our citizenry.”

“The printing press is no trivial instrument, Gentlemen. It may spread virtue—or sedition. And without license, it is unlawful. Did you seek permission from the Crown or its appointed officers?”

“I did not, Your Lordship. There is no printer licensed in Virginia, as there are in other colonies, nor any clear means to obtain such sanction. I acted out of necessity.”

Culpeper huffed.

“Necessity is no defense against royal prerogative. The Crown must control the press, lest it become a tool of rebellion.”

I was not convinced he believed that statement, but he was paid to do the King’s bidding. He would defend the Crown’s control of the printing press to keep his massive land wealth.

“Then may I ask, sir—will the Council consider establishing a lawful means for printing in Virginia? Surely the colonists would benefit from printed educational materials.”

“That is not for you to decide, Mr. Buckner. But your suggestion shall be noted. For now, you and Mr. Nuthead are ordered to cease all printing activities until His Majesty’s pleasure is made clear. Also, Mr. Buckner will pay a bond of one hundred pounds sterling to ensure compliance with the court.”

“I shall obey, Your Lordship.”

“See that you do. This colony shall not become a haven for unauthorized presses. You are dismissed.”

* * *

The ruling against us irritated me, but it crushed William’s spirit.

“I didn’t come to this God-forsaken wilderness,” he spat, “risking my life and earthly possessions, to be a. . . tobacco farmer.”

Despite his vitriol, I was certain he didn’t mean to insult me.

“I am a printer.” He gestured passionately. “My father was a printer. He taught me everything. I’ve never even imagined doing anything else.”

My sons, Richard, Thomas, John Jr., William, and I watched while he ranted and paced.

“Mr. Buckner, I’m most grateful for your financial support, but eventually I must make my own way—as a printer. I’ll do whatever is necessary to fulfill my Divine Destiny.”

William stopped talking and calmed himself, but we could see his mind churning.

He reminded me of myself when my wife and I first emigrated from Oxfordshire. We were young and excited about the future, ready to build a new life in a new land. Lacking the privileges of a first-born son, I found far greater means of building my estate in the Virginia Colony than I might have in England, but it hasn’t been easy. There’s no way to prepare for the disappointments and frustrations—and dangers—this kind of life can bring.

In the next few months, while waiting for the official directive from His Majesty, William Nuthead helped manage my land holdings and business trades alongside my sons. He was not yet thirty and had boundless energy. If he wasn’t working for me, he was writing letters inquiring about opportunities in other colonies. Through my business contacts, William learned about potential investors, mainly in the Province of Maryland, where printing licenses were not required.

“Father, why are the laws different in other colonies?” John Jr. asked.

“Lord Baltimore rules the Province of Maryland, a proprietary colony not under the rule of the crown like we are in the Virginia Colony,” I said.

“Seems like I might rather live in Maryland.”

I winced. John Jr. was too young and inexperienced to know each colony had its own set of problems. He hadn’t seen the Virginia colony in its early years, as I had. Sometimes I wondered if his life had been too easy.     

“We do well here, son. The King granted our first 194 acres years before you were born. This is home, and I’m proud of what we’ve built. Change takes time, and I’m hopeful His Majesty will come to his senses and rule in favor of allowing the printing press here. It will have to become the law of the land eventually. Virginians are curious and progressive. The citizens will demand the freedom to have a printing press. It hasn’t become a necessity yet. But it will.”

We learned of Lord Culpeper’s quick return to London, which so infuriated King Charles that he released Culpeper from his governorship. His Lordship, however, retained his massive landholdings north of the Rappahannock River.

A new governor—Lord Francis Howard of Effingham—arrived months later, bringing with him an edict from King Charles.

And whereas We have taken notice of the inconvenience that may arise by the Liberty of Printing in that Our Colony, you are to provide by all necessary orders and directions that no person be permitted to use any press for printing upon any occasion whatsoever.          

Governor Howard made it clear to the Virginia Assembly he would pursue a policy of absolute prohibition regarding printing.

“For how long?” William asked.

I shook my head.

“Mr. Buckner, somewhere there is a need for my skills. If not here in Virginia, then possibly in Maryland.”

* * *

I sat with my sons by the hearth, discussing the day’s business and politics.

“Are you going to let him go, Father?”

“I can’t in good conscience obligate him to stay. A man like William has a higher calling than coercing him to give up his dreams.”

My sons exchanged glances.

“Forgive me, Father,” Richard, my oldest, said, “but you own eight slaves, and you have indentured laborers—all men forced to work at your pleasure. Without them, your land would be worthless.”

“It’s true.” This unresolved conflict of freedom weighed heavily on me. “In my mind, there’s a difference between the laborers who plow my fields and men of William’s wit, skill, and upbringing. I brought him here to be a printer, not to work the crops. Of all the settlers I’ve sponsored—merchants, artisans, blacksmiths—not everyone is adept to hard labor. The God Almighty knows, our tobacco economy depends on the enslaved and the indentured.”

Within months, William secured an investor in St. Mary’s City, the Maryland capital.

Loading his printing press and meager belongings onto a schooner, he and his freedman assistant, Rory—whose departure I grieved—sailed from Gloucester Point, navigating up the Potomac River.

William Nuthead, the Virginia Colony’s first printer, would now become the first printer in the Province of Maryland.

Later that year, the people of Gloucester County—landowners and homeowners—elected me, then my sons, to represent them in The House of Burgesses of the Virginia Assembly.

I welcomed the opportunity to serve my fellow Virginians and influence lawmakers, even the King, in the ideals of life and liberty.

# # #

Author’s Notes

My 7^th great-grandfather, John Buckner, The Immigrant, sailed to the Virginia Colony in the mid-1600s, leaving behind his comfortable, gentry life in England.

When my brother, Harry Nadler Buckner—engineer, inventor, builder, entrepreneur, and researcher—told me about our ancestor bringing the first printing press to Colonial Virginia, I was inspired to write this story.

John Buckner’s life and the lives of his descendants have captured my imagination, leading me to explore stories of the men and women who risked sailing across the volatile Atlantic Ocean to an unpredictable, primitive land.

The grit these adventurers possessed runs through all generations of our family, even into present day.

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