The Miller in Eighteenth-Century Virginia: An Account of Mills & the Craft of Milling, as Well as a Description of the Windmill near the Palace in Williamsburg

In Short

This book provides a concise, informative history of grain milling in colonial Virginia, contextualizing the technical development of water and windmills within the broader economic and social landscape of the era. It traces how mills transitioned from private plantation tools to vital commercial enterprises, while also examining the age-old reputation of the miller as a "rogue." By focusing on the historical significance of milling alongside a detailed description of the reconstructed windmill in Williamsburg, the work offers a clear, grounded look at a cornerstone of pre-mechanical daily life.

The Story

The story begins by acknowledging the long-standing, somewhat dubious reputation of the miller. From Chaucer’s mischievous characters to various feudal laws in England, the miller was often viewed with suspicion—a person who held the power to cheat customers at the toll-dish. As settlers arrived in Virginia, they brought these age-old anxieties and legal customs with them. The narrative then shifts to the mechanics of history, explaining how early humans moved from simple mortar and pestle devices to the sophisticated, water-powered grain mills of the Roman era.

In Virginia, the necessity of bread meant that milling was a high priority for the early colonists. Despite the initial focus on fort building and treasure hunting, the reality of survival soon demanded the construction of mills. The narrative details the slow, deliberate growth of these facilities. While watermills were often preferred for their romantic and consistent power, windmills flourished in the exposed coastal regions of Tidewater Virginia and the eastern colonies. The account notes that the first mill in Virginia, erected by Governor Yeardley, was a windmill, predating many of its counterparts in other colonies.

As the economy of Virginia matured, the role of the mill changed. While tobacco was the primary cash crop, wheat and corn became essential for both local survival and, eventually, export. The text distinguishes between the "custom mill"—which ground grain for a portion of the product as payment—and the "merchant mill," which bought grain to produce flour for large-scale export. Figures like William Byrd, Robert Carter, and George Washington are highlighted as key entrepreneurs who transformed their plantation mills into complex, high-capacity businesses.

The narrative concludes by focusing on the specific history of Williamsburg. Although records are fragmentary, evidence confirms that several mills existed in the capital, including one belonging to William Robertson. The final section describes the meticulous process of reconstructing a post mill in the town, grounded in the research of experts like Rex Wailes and Edward P. Hamilton. By detailing the construction—from the massive oak post to the precise setting of the millstones—the book provides a tangible look at how these machines functioned. It presents the mill not just as a wooden structure, but as a sophisticated, human-tended machine that served as a vital, if often under-appreciated, public utility.

How It Unfolds

The miller’s reputation The book opens with an investigation into the historical distrust of millers, citing literary and legal sources that cast them as clever thieves. This sets the stage for understanding why, even in the colonies, legislation was constantly required to keep the craft honest.

From muscle to machine The narrative moves through the technological evolution of milling, explaining the transition from hand-held querns to the revolutionary application of water and wind power. This section establishes the mechanical foundation upon which all colonial milling rested.

The colonial frontier Focusing on the seventeenth century, the book describes the early settlers' struggles to build and maintain mills in a wilderness environment. It highlights the specific challenges of the Virginia landscape and the slow, necessary expansion of milling infrastructure.

The plantation economy The focus shifts to the eighteenth-century rise of merchant milling, where prominent planters began treating flour as a major export. This beat explores the business side of the trade, including the recruitment of skilled millers and the integration of bake houses.

The mechanics of the windmill The final portion of the book serves as a technical guide to the post mill in Williamsburg. It explains the complex balance of gears, sails, and stones, ultimately offering a vivid look at the physical labor and ingenuity required to turn wind into bread.

The People

The book focuses less on individual biographies and more on the figures who shaped the milling industry through investment and labor. William Robertson appears as a key figure in Williamsburg, a man of political influence whose land deeds provide the essential, if thin, trail of evidence for the town’s own windmill. William Byrd and Robert Carter represent the ambitious plantation-owners who recognized the economic potential of moving beyond subsistence milling. George Washington stands out as the most prominent merchant miller, whose struggles to hire and retain honest, sober men like William Roberts or Joseph Davenport highlight the human volatility inherent in managing a mill. These figures are contrasted against the "anonymous Greek" who first harnessed natural power, representing the collective, historical ingenuity of the millwrights who designed these machines. The millers themselves—often indentured servants or enslaved people—are noted for their lack of social status, appearing as the indispensable but overlooked operators who maintained the fine, precise balance between a successful grind and total mechanical failure.

In Its Own Voice

"Only Chaucer's own regard for truth could have moved him thus to dignify the popular belief that among millers integrity was as rare as twenty-four-carat thumbs."

(Discussing the historical reputation of millers as rogues.)

"There are few merrier spectacles than that of many windmills bickering together in a breeze over a woody country, their halting alacrity of movement, their pleasant business of making bread all day with uncouth gesticulations, their air gigantically human, as of a creature half alive, put a spirit of romance into the tame landscape."

(Robert Louis Stevenson’s observation on the emotional appeal of windmills.)

What It's Really About

At its core, this book explores the intersection of public utility and private enterprise. It examines how a process as fundamental as making bread became a source of both economic power and social anxiety. The text poses a subtle argument that the miller’s "bad reputation" was a natural byproduct of the tension between a community's desperate need for a service and the miller's need to profit from a volatile, master-controlled machine. It also highlights the intellectual weight of pre-industrial technology, showcasing how "trial-and-error" knowledge was as critical as any engineering theory. Ultimately, the book is about the persistent, human effort to impose order and precision upon the unpredictable forces of nature.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in colonial history, early American technology, or the heritage of the Chesapeake region will find this a rewarding, unpretentious read. The writing is warm and authoritative, grounded in a clear respect for the mechanical ingenuity of the past. It feels like a guided tour of a historical site, shifting seamlessly between broad economic trends and the specific, tactile details of how a windshaft turns a gear.

Modern readers should be prepared for the book’s mid-twentieth-century perspective, which includes some of the period’s casual language regarding social hierarchies and enslaved labor; the book acknowledges these realities of the colonial era without much critical deconstruction. However, for those who enjoy learning about the "machinery of daily life," the book offers a fascinating glimpse into a world where everything—from the weather to the thickness of a stone’s setting—determined the survival of a community. It is a quiet, steady book that stays with you, leaving you with a newfound appreciation for the ancient, "gigantically human" machines that once defined the landscape of early America.