The Revolution in England was used in America to arouse revolt against centralized government, union, and a close English connection; but it also introduced the war with France, in Europe and in America.

     The addition of New York and the Jerseys to Andros’s already large province of New England marked the beginning of an anxious year for the governor. The disputes with France were increasing in intensity; and it invariably happened that disputes with France meant attack by Indians. Andros did his best to cope with the situation, and appeared to have gained the mastery when the revolution came upon him; but it may well be that, under the special urgency of the situation, his hand was laid more heavily than usual on the sensitive people of Massachusetts, still smarting from the blows which Charles and James had inflicted on their dignity and independence. The partisan statements of the revolutionaries certainly give this impression; and at any rate there can be no doubt that Andros was extremely unpopular with the ‘independent’ party of Massachusetts.

     In November 1688, popular disaffection in England resulted in the landing of William of Orange, with a proclamation promising redress for public grievances. By the following January, the flight of the King left William in power; and he issued a provisional order to the colonies, continuing all officers for the present in their several offices¹. Finally on February 19th the Council issued orders to colonial governors for the proclamation of William and Mary as joint sovereigns, the continuation of officers, and the administration of the usual oaths of allegiance². Early in January, if not before, Boston had received official warning of a prospective Dutch invasion; and Andros

had taken necessary precautions, as in duty bound. In April, the first of William’s declarations was brought to the governor from the West Indies, and on the 18th of that month an insurrection broke out in Boston. Rumours of revolt appear to have been circulated in various quarters of the town, with the result that early in the day large companies of insurgents came together. Their first step was to secure Captain George of H.M.S. Rose, then lying in the harbour. Andros’s officers were next seized, among them Edward Randolph, at this time secretary to the Dominion. At this stage a council was called together, and Simon Bradstreet, the last governor under the old charter, drew up a paper of reasons for revolt. Meanwhile Andros, hearing of the disturbance, went down from the fort to the town house, where the council of war had assembled, and demanded the meaning of the disturbance. He was promptly seized, and confined in a private house, whence he was later removed to the fort. The insurgents now persuaded Randolph—according to one account, with a pistol at his head—to advise the surrender of the fort, and the following day the castle also fell into their hands. The call to surrender was signed by Bradstreet, Danforth, the late deputy-governor under the charter, and others, who, in response, as they claimed, to a universal desire, assumed the government until further directions should be received from England¹. Randolph and Joseph Dudley, the President of Massachusetts appointed after the abrogation of the charter, were thrown into the common gaol, where the former spent much time in penning long and indignant letters to the home government; the judges, the attorney-general, and several of the officers were imprisoned in the castle, and Andros was kept in close confinement. He succeeded at one time in eluding his guards, but was recaptured and brought back ignominiously in the woman’s clothing that he had imperfectly assumed for disguise. Thus they remained until the King’s order in July for their release and despatch to England reached the acting authorities. According to Bradstreet the revolution had been

accomplished without either bloodshed or plundering. The council thus constituted communicated with the home government as if assured of public approbation, asking a favourable interpretation of the measures which they had been obliged to use, in order to establish their authority, and begging restoration to ‘undoubted rights.¹’ Such was the revolution in Massachusetts, leading to the establishment of a de facto government, based on the old charter, until a commission was given to Sir William Phips as governor in November 1691, in accordance with the new charter of that year.

     There is little doubt that the mere news of King James’s deposition and the accession of William III was not enough to provoke such an outburst of feeling in Boston, unless there were strong currents of opinion beneath the surface. It is moreover very questionable if the popular distrust of Andros took the shape of fear that he would attempt to resist the establishment of the new regime, when authoritatively informed of the charge. It was to be but a few years later before Andros was again a governor on the American mainland; and though it must be admitted that his character was not always clearly understood, that his staunch Protestantism was by some mistaken for Popery, yet the hatred he aroused appears invariably to be caused by the state of things he had already brought to pass at the time of the revolt against him, not by fears that he would stand out for James in the teeth of English opposition. Moreover, the rapidity with which the revolt in America followed the news of William’s success in England may be taken to indicate a constant readiness to seize any likely opportunity of overturning the existing government.

     The first statement of reasons for the outbreak in Boston is to be found in the manifesto issued by the rebels in 1689². This document begins by citing the Popish plot of 1678 as an example of the danger to be feared under a monarch with Roman Catholic

inclinations. The second head is more definite. The charter, it reads, has been vacated with hardly a pretence of law, ‘hastened by the unwearied solicitations and slanderous accusations of a Man¹ —for his malice and falsehood well known to us all, . . . to get us into reach of the desolation desired for us.’ The other grievances follow on this. Andros has been sent with a more arbitrary commission, and moreover with several companies of redcoats to enforce it. He has used this authority to heap preferment on strangers; whilst persons who objected to be rated without an assembly have been heavily fined or imprisoned without verdict of jury or right of habeas corpus. Swearing has been made compulsory for jurors. Flaws have been found in titles to land; and these iniquities have been perpetrated not even by the whole council, but by the governor and five or six councillors. In addition there has been the burden of Indian raids, defence duties and the irksomeness of Popish commanders appointed over them by Andros. Finally they adduce the example of William, which has led them to take strong measures against the tyranny they abhor.

     Now this manifesto can hardly be taken at its face value. The charges of illegal proceedings can for the present be ignored; as, if founded on fact, they will appear in the case against Andros before the Lords of Trade in the following year. The remaining charges reflect the jealous spirit of independence characteristic of the Puritan colonies. Their theocratic system has been offended by forms of worship alien to their own religion and these they are swift to denounce as Popery. The practice of swearing in judicial proceedings has similarly offended their beliefs. But the heart of the matter is in those clauses which relate to the charter and the method of government. Their exclusive independence has been taken away—they assume, illegally—and a hated system of centralized control substituted for it. Preferment has been given to strangers—again their own influence weakened. They even go so far as to object to fines imposed on those who refuse obedience to the tyranny—a curiously illogical frame of mind, assuming that even the force

which has oppressed and overcome them should admit that it is in the wrong and refuse to press its claims. Flaws found in titles to land, the governor acting without the entire council—such finally make up the sum of causes which bring the people of Boston to a grave sense of insecurity. Unless they act quickly their independence will utterly fall. The deposition of James II is a Heaven-sent opportunity; but they must shoulder their own burden. They dare not trust William. It is the extension of English rule which they fight against, not merely the policy of a Stuart king. This is the spirit of the 1689 manifesto, standing out clearly, irrespective of the truth or falsehood of the detailed charges.

     The convention called shortly after the outbreak of revolt shews the same spirit. Its members, reads the declaration¹, are resolved to venture their lives and estates for the reviving and maintaining of their rights and privileges, and for government according to their ancient patent. Apart from these aims, there appear some insinuations against Andros which played a considerable part in kindling the flame. Captain George of H.M.S. Rose tells us² that it was popularly rumoured that Andros intended to deliver the government to the French, to burn the town (a singularly common charge against any unpopular governor) and to have the Rose beat down the mob at the other end of the town with her guns and then make for France. Another writer³ asserts that Andros kindled the Indian war to coerce New England, and that the Rose was intended to take him also to France.

     A further source of information about the feelings of Massachusetts is the case brought against Andros and his subordinates before the Lords of Trade⁴. The first charge put forward by the agents for the colony was that Andros, after notice of William’s intention to invade England, required persons to

oppose such a Dutch invasion, tried to stifle news of his landing, and imprisoned the messenger as seditious. The answer to the first charge was obvious. The governor had obeyed James’s orders to resist a foreign attack, as was his duty. The other charges he denied as untrue¹. The remaining offences urged against him were the making of laws and the imposition of taxes without legal authority, denial of the people’s right to property in land without his patent, and the supply of ammunition, with other encouragement, to the Indians. Andros replied that all his laws were legal, and moreover that the taxes in question amounted to but 1d. in the £ whilst the revolutionary government imposed seven times as much. The other charges he characterized as vile and base aspersions, unworthy of Englishmen and Christians. No attempt was made to prove the charges.

     Meanwhile Edward Randolph, the inveterate champion of the home government, had set forth the reasons to which he attributed the movement against Andros². He centres all round the Navigation System. Since their charter was vacated, he says, the people of Massachusetts have been kept from breaches of the Navigation Acts, and from fitting out privateers to the Spanish West Indies, in which offences their agent in London was a great offender. They have also been kept from trade with the French in Newfoundland; liberty of coinage has been denied them, in order to discourage pirates; whilst their ministers who have absolute control of the people, are the leaders in such misdeeds. Already, Randolph continues, seven pirates have been liberated and permitted to sell their goods; and privateers are even now fitting for the West Indies. It is dangerous to trust absolutely such testimony as this, in view of the bitter hostility which had long existed between Randolph and the local authorities of New England; but in view of the extent to which the laws of trade had been evaded there before 1684³, it

is hard to dismiss his charges completely; the more since he spares no pains to give minute details in substantiation of his main arguments.

     The acts of the successful party during their period of rule should also give some clue to the reasons which inspired the revolt. According to Randolph¹, the height of revolution produced a furious rabble, animated by the ministers, who proceeded to cry down customs, excise and Acts of Navigation—the symbols of English rule. ‘One of their ministers lately declared in public that they accounted themselves the King’s nominal, not real, subjects.’ And a pamphleteer of the same time² complains that the laws of England were unknown till Andros’s time. These statements, made evidently in the heat of revolt, may be taken as the extreme of a tendency which did not carry all so far along its course.

     Whilst English laws were thus opposed, the English Church did not escape its share of persecution. In January, 1690, the members of the Anglican communion in Boston drew up a petition³ setting forth their grievances. It appears that since the overthrow of Andros frequent indignities had been their portion. Their leaders were accused of idolatry and Popery; their church was damaged and daily threatened with destructions; their ministers had been ‘destroyed,’ and the whole community excessively taxed for the support of a disloyal government. One of their ministers bears out this statement⁴, adding that the Church was perpetually abused, and its members much threatened with their fate ‘when the charter comes.’ The revival of charter government did not promise well for the Anglican Church in New England, for in practice their only freedom of worship had been during the few years since the much vaunted charter was vacated; whilst Cotton Mather,

whose ‘dynasty’ long held sway in the Puritan theocracy of Boston, attributed the ill fortune of the new government to the little English chapel, which they had permitted to stand¹.

     The conduct for which the acting authorities cannot however be excused was in relation to the defences of New England. The revolution came at a time when French and Indian attacks were constantly threatened. Less than a year before had come Indian raids on Northfield and Springfield², which should have been still fresh in memory. And yet the council displayed a reckless disregard for the country’s safety which can only be accounted for by complete absorption in the struggle with English control. Instructions were sent for the dismissal of the regular officers in the Eastern garrisons, and these were to be sent back to Boston. At Pemaquid, the outpost against the Indians, the senior officers were replaced with the result that the majority of the garrison deserted, and the people of Pemaquid in fear insisted on keeping one of their junior officers as unofficial adviser to the new control. The disastrous result of this policy followed within a few months. The usual instructions issued appear to have ordered the reservation of as many men as were necessary, and the dismissal of the rest—an order which was interpreted with little eye to the frontier danger. An equally short-sighted policy encouraged the dismantling of the Rose, the royal frigate in Boston harbour. At the outbreak the carpenter had been chief instigator against Capt. George, and according to the latter’s testimony³ the sails were removed, and all who would not take the carpenter’s side were put ashore. In addition, many men deserted, with the result that Boston had no protection at all for her coast; and, according to Randolph, six Salem ketches were taken by the French off Cape Sable, while the Rose was thus out of action⁴; whilst other inhabitants of Boston claimed that £12,000 worth of damage had been done

by pirates, from the same cause¹. Not till the condition of affairs was realized in England and orders issued from home for repairs to the frigate², was this dangerous situation remedied.

     The provisional government was not long in power before general complaints were voiced against the disorder of the country. Long catalogues of misrule came, of course, from Randolph, who stated that vessels came in freely with goods contrary to the Navigation Laws or from prohibited countries, without any disturbance being made on that account; whilst if customs officers attempted to carry out their duty, they stood good chance of being knocked on the head³. Here, as before, it is only fair to Randolph to point out that he is precise in his instances, and challenges the government to produce bonds they have taken of sea-going ships, that his accusations may be refuted⁴. Others besides Randolph find much to lament in the new government. ‘The injuries and oppressions they have loaded us withal’ is the theme of one pamphleteer⁵. Certain gentlemen and merchants of Boston complain that New England is ‘in very broken and unsteady fortune.’ Charlestown (Mass.) complains of the disorder and confusion, and appeals for the ‘protection and benefit of the laws of England⁶.’ Moreover, the government itself had many hindrances in carrying out its executive functions. The people were not satisfied that they had the power to raise either men or money. Great difficulty was found in collecting rates; and debentures on the collectors were at 25 per cent. to 50 per cent. discount⁷. The revenue became so inadequate that in December 1689 the general court ordered the collection of arrears of rate since 1686⁸. The raising of forces for defence was as difficult. The press came out; but ‘some questioned the pay, some their authority, and few or none

went¹.’ When expeditions were being organized under Sir William Phips for attack on the French settlements, Phips’s men mustered without arms; and on being told to find their own, eighty of their number deserted. ‘Some few enlist, and then change their minds and desert, and none dares question them².’ When it was desired to send help to the defence of the Maine townships, there were no officers found fit for such service; whilst when the men were found, the neglect to look after their needs was conspicuous. After the return of the expedition against Quebec in 1690 complaints of neglect and want were rife. ‘Men died in holes before they were missed. . . . Those who arrived at Boston die up and down like rotten sheep³.’ The expenses of Indian wars since the revolution had to be paid by private gentlemen, in default of public funds⁴. The soldiers, dismissed or deserting, returned from the eastern garrisons, and rioted about Boston with the comprehensive cry on their lips ‘God bless King William; God bless Andros; and damn all pumpkin states⁵.’

     As has already been indicated, it was the charter which formed the background of the revolution. The new government was established on ‘the desire that the Governor, Deputy Governor and Assistants of 1686 should assume the governments⁶.’ Once established, the petition of the newly constituted authorities was for ‘a share in the universal restoration of charters of English liberties⁷.’ It was the deprivation of the charter that caused the people to imitate the English example⁸; and that charter, illegally taken, could be resumed⁹. A merchant, writing from New England¹⁰, described the greater part of Massachusetts, New Plymouth and Connecticut as calling itself the

true Israel. ‘Nothing will serve their turn but their old charters.’ He added caustically: ‘A very home-bred people, but exceeding wise and conceited in their own eyes.’

     On the other hand, there is considerable evidence to shew that although the most zealous party, the Charterists—to coin a convenient term—did not represent the whole of Massachusetts public opinion. For some the revolutionists were ‘a giddy and enraged mob.’ Some urged new elections²; ‘Andros and the council have worked well and increasingly for the welfare of this country . . . the charter is void³.’ Merchants and others asked for the release of Captain George, saying that ‘we ought to avoid a revival of the old scandals over the acts of Trade and Navigation.’ Although James’s rule was generous, yet ‘the uniting of the colonies added to our happiness; . . . most wise men agree that the old Charter government was unfit for the people, and dangerous to both King and subject; . . . it placed unlimited power in the hands of a few to oppress others.’ Moreover, the territory was too much broken up; union is better⁴. These are the opinions of some, evidently those outside the favoured circle in the old Massachusetts.

     Meanwhile the colony’s agents in England were pressing for the restitution of their charter privileges. Phips and Mather, two of the most influential spokesmen for Massachusetts, applied for their old charter as soon as the new government was well established⁵; and in favour of their request it was urged that there had been a flaw in the scire facias of 1683⁶. William’s advisers, however, did not readily give up all that had been gained under James; and the agents soon accepted the position by making suggestions for a new charter. Their first claims were for the inclusion of Maine and New Hampshire—a union which in responsible hands was certainly necessary for the adequate defence of those outlying parts of New England. For their constitution they asked for restitution of the lands held

under the former charter, the election of officers and appointment of the judicature, the right of taxation for support of government, and other smaller details¹. On receiving these suggestions, the Lords of Trade asked the King’s wishes on the subject of the governor’s appointment. William replied that he would reserve that appointment to himself². The agents, compelled to bow to this decision, take up a fresh stand on the appointment of the deputy-governor, asking further for a limitation of the time for confirmation or disallowance of laws to 18 months, for freedom in elections or in appointment of the council, without veto by the governor. They also ask that the militia, although under the command of the governor, shall not be moved without consent of the assembly. At this stage the draft charter is submitted, and the agents again find some of their suggestions overruled. They refuse at first to accept an indefinite time for the disallowance of laws, the appointment of judges and justices and sheriffs by the governor, with the assent of his council, the governor’s right of approving members of the council after election by the assembly; and his complete veto on all laws and acts of that assembly³. Finding however that they must accept these restrictions or lose the whole, they acquiesce shortly after⁴, and confine their suggestions to smaller matters, many of which the government can concede without losing ground. The agents also attempt to force the insertion of vague clauses preserving ‘old rights, privileges and properties; and giving an alternative power in official appointments to the Assembly⁵.’

     Towards the end of 1691 the new charter was finally passed⁶, and the policy of the new régime thus publicly expressed. It was now evident that the hopes of those who had looked for a return to the old policy of laissez-faire were not to be realized.

In fact the policy of William seemed closely to resemble that of his predecessor, although one or two concessions were made which it is hard to imagine James yielding, with his more rigid ideas of royal control. Massachusetts became by charter a royal province. The governor and deputy-governor were no longer to be elected but were to be appointed by the King during his pleasure. The general court, or assembly, was constituted by the election of freeholders—as opposed to freemen in the previous system—on the English model, meeting once a year or oftener, summoned by the governor. The councillors, or assistants, were to be chosen by the general court—here is a concession to the colony—and were to advise the governor, who had the appointment of judges, sheriffs, and justices of the peace. The general court could also erect courts of justice, and appoint other civil officers. The governor had control of the militia, but must obtain the consent of the assembly before moving it outside the colony, unless martial law was established, which could be done only with the agreement of the council. Liberty of conscience was granted to all Christians except papists. The time-limit for confirmation of laws was at first indefinite, but was later fixed at three years, instead of the eighteen months proposed by the agents. This charter included Nova Scotia, Maine, and the Kennebec country—the boundary being fixed three miles north of the Merrimac—and also New Plymouth, which had proclaimed William and Mary on first news of the change of sovereigns, and had then proceeded to elect a governor and assistants according to the old charter, ‘taken from us by the illegal and arbitrary government of Sir Edmund Andros¹’; asking for royal confirmation of their ancient rights and privileges. New Hampshire also, though not included in the charter, had been taken under the protection of Massachusetts at its own request in 1690, the proprietary government continuing to hold an authority at least nominal². Connecticut, on the other hand, separated itself from the old colony, and elected a new governor³; whilst Rhode Island also returned to

the system in force before the proceedings instituted by James II. Thus the lesser New England colonies took advantage of the fall of James and his lieutenant in Boston to take each the direction of its own inclinations and interests, whilst the greater colony was being systematically reorganized from England. The charter settlement of Massachusetts was for the time completed by the appointment of Sir William Phips as governor, in November 1691¹. Phips had hitherto been conspicuous chiefly as a searcher after wrecked treasure-ships, but had recently entered the public life of Massachusetts and had commanded the expedition which failed before Quebec early in 1691, after achieving the surrender and plunder of Port Royal, the French station in Acadia. He had taken no part in the revolution, being at that time in England; but was, with Mather, a leading figure in the struggle of the past two years for charter independence; and now took office as governor through the method of appointment which he had struggled to prevent. Under such auspices was the second period of charter-government inaugurated in Massachusetts.

     In New York, as in Boston, the landing of William of Orange was the signal for a revolution, less dramatic in this case, but more injurious to the colony and to the English cause in America. The lieutenant-governor for Andros was Francis Nicholson, a firm supporter of the system he represented, and later honoured for valuable service under King William. Unfortunately for New York, Nicholson’s temper was not always under control; and in a time when the need for tact could not be exaggerated this failing was accountable for much of the subsequent disorder. The unrest began at Long Island² at the receipt of news from Boston telling of Andros’ imprisonment; and for several weeks a vague hostility to the government was evident, but for a fortnight the authorities kept control. Rumours

spread of Indian attacks, and of war with France; and the government decided to refortify the town, but found themselves at a loss how to raise money. The customs were being decried as illegal¹. Finally on May 31st the agitation came to a head. While Nicholson and the militia officers were consulting together for the suppression of the disaffected parties, the mob rose, seized Fort James, and gave practical control into the hands of Jacob Leisler, a wealthy militia captain of German birth and Dutch education. At this stage the inhabitants and trainbands of New York issued a statement of reasons for their rising; and declared their intention of holding the fort pending orders from the King. They refused to obey the council’s order to deliver to the town clerk the King’s money in the fort; and with the treasury in their possession, the legitimate authority of the governor became very slight. Nicholson remained for ten days and then decided that his best plan was to leave quietly for England; and his departure left Leisler’s faction supreme. The council met, and passed resolutions appointing commissioners of revenue; but Leisler appeared in force at this meeting and took away the resolutions; whilst one of the commissioners appointed was later beaten and wounded, and Bayard, the aristocratic leader of the council, narrowly escaped being done to death. Those persons who had seized the fort now declared themselves a committee of safety², and gave Leisler a commission as Captain of the Fort; a declaration also being passed against all office-holding under King James’ commissions. This self-appointed government was still in power when in December a messenger arrived with letters from the King to Nicholson, or those who exercised authority in his absence. In spite of the protests of Nicholson’s late councillors, Leisler appropriated these letters, and now styled himself Lieutenant-Governor and Commander-in-Chief; signalizing this accession of dignity by occupying the governor’s pew in church, to the scandal of the more fastidious but less energetic inhabitants of New York³. Thus he carried on a kind of government until March 1691,

when the arrival of Colonel Sloughter, the newly-appointed governor, brought the period of revolutionary government to an end.

     The impression given by a study of the revolts in the colonies of Massachusetts and New York is that the New York movement was by far the more unreasoning and unreasonable, lacking the steady purpose which undoubtedly inspired the uprising in Boston. It begins uncertainly with the complaints of malcontents and ends in a disreputable faction. The reasons given for the rising are hollow, and represent little more than a pretext for the events which followed. A declaration was made in the presence of Nicholson, while still in New York, by one Bartholomew le Roux¹, replying to an inquiry of Bayard. His first reason was that papists were threatening to massacre the settlers in Staten Island, and then to come and burn New York. The accuser produced evidence to this alarm but not to the fact. It was also rumoured that fugitives from Boston, chiefly Irish and papists, were in the neighbourhood, and these were also feared. Many of the regular soldiers were papists, and the defence of the province was thereby not secure; whilst the sailing of Colonel Dongan’s brig, fitted out as a man-of-war, also gave cause for alarm. Thus the charges shew a vague fear of papists, which may have disposed the people to acquiesce in Leisler’s domination, but can hardly have produced a revolution unaided. At the first rising on May 31st, the inhabitants and trainbands also gave their reasons for revolt: ‘Notwithstanding the grievances and oppressions of Governor Dongan and his wicked pensionaries of whom Lieutenant-Governor Nicholson is one,’ they were resolved to await King William’s decision.

     But when we were threatened and cajoled by Lieutenant-Governor Nicholson, when he presented a pistol at our corporal, and told Lieutenant Cuyler that he would set the city on fire because we did our loyal duty, we then for the safety of the Protestants, and in view of the daily coming of papists and soldiers to Lieutenant-Governor

Nicholson, resolved to live no longer in such danger, but to secure the fort; which we have effected without bloodshed. We shall now hold it pending orders from the King¹.

In giving ground for such statements, Nicholson had evidently shewn some lack of caution; and as he was a man of quick temper, the charges are easy to explain as springing from remarks or actions far less violent than those alleged. A further statement made by the militia on June 3rd asserted that their intention was only to safeguard the Protestant religion until the arrival of ships from the Prince of Orange, when his orders would be promptly obeyed. The rebels also addressed the King and Queen, telling of the oppression under which they had groaned, and the subversion of their ‘ancient privileges’; and attributed the rising to dread of Andros, and Nicholson’s threat to shoot the corporal and fire the town. Nicholson’s behaviour on receipt of the news of William’s landing was also used against him: ‘He flew into a violent passion and said that Salisbury Plain was burying-place enough for Prince and people too; and threatened to cut off the messenger’s ears².’ Like Dongan, he fell under suspicion of neglecting to repair the fortifications of the city³.

     Thus the records point to a common feeling of insecurity and danger under Nicholson’s rule, in which circumstances little enough was necessary to provoke an armed rising, for it must be remembered that in the American colonies a revolution was hardly the weighty undertaking that it would be in an old established European state. Given the common agreement of an active and considerable minority, authority could not stand against it. Nicholson could not put down rebellion by force, when his soldiers with the exception of two royal companies, were drawn from the ranks of the insurgents as militia; whilst the majority of the inactive population would be deterred by fear of papists or by personal grievances. As for the home government, by the time that England realized the situation

and took action, the rising had been utilized by Leisler for the ascendancy of his own mere faction; and, as factious, his rule was brought to an end.

     Leisler, on accession to power, made certain requests of the King, seeking approbation for his conduct and asking for a charter similar to the old Boston Charter, for power against rebels, papists and the disaffected, and for general consideration to the province in the matter of government and organization for defence¹. His rule however was not long in attaining unpopularity. Livingston, the leader of the Albany settlement, described Leisler as prompted by ambition to domineer². ‘He is a proud, insolent, oppressing fellow-and will certainly ruin the place,’ writes a Bostoner to Usher, the lieutenant-governor of New Hampshire³. The record of 1690 is a tale of disorder. Leisler and his party spent time in guarding against papists⁴, when they should have been organizing government and guarding against French and Indian attacks. When he attempted to raise taxes on real and personal property⁵, the collection was opposed⁶. When the inhabitants were called upon to renew their association for defence, it was necessary to arrest hinderers⁷. The news of James’s landing in Ireland provoked a riot. ‘Thirty people also appeared in the street, and struck at the Lieutenant-Governor with an adze.’ Twenty were imprisoned⁸. The more religious of the population were dissatisfied. ‘We live like heathen . . . neither Church, nor people, nor prayers. . . . We scarce know when Sunday comes⁹.’ In May 1690, certain inhabitants of New York petitioned the King and Queen for help: ‘We are sorely oppressed . . . under the burden of slavery executed by the men who have overturned all civil power (in defiance of the proclamation), and rule us by the sword, seize our estate without

trial, plunder houses, open letters, abuse ministers of reformed churches, and seize their revenues¹.’ Flypse and Courtlandt, two of the Council, complain that ‘the people are very unruly and daily commit unlawful acts. None pay duty but those who choose. . . . The whole revenue will fail. All is in confusion. Magistrates are threatened and hindered . . . others called papists and suspects².’

     Albany, the outpost against the Indians, refused for long to acknowledge Leisler’s government. The results of this disagreement were soon seen. In February 1690, a party of French and Indians fell on Senectady, killed sixty men and women, carried off others, and burnt all the town except six or seven houses. ‘The people were so bigoted to Leisler,’ says Livingston, ‘that they would obey none of the magistrates, or entertain the soldiers sent from Albany, and would not guard³.’ The town was divided into factions, the gates left open, and not a sentinel posted⁴. In March, Leisler sent a party to Albany to compel its surrender, ‘to fetch the mayor and several gentlemen to prison, where he sends all that will not do him homage⁵.’ In May, Albany was forced to submit, but the mayor and aldermen were continued in authority owing to the fear of Indians. Some others of the population found themselves in gaol⁶.

     By the time of Sloughter’s arrival, Leisler was fast being forsaken in New York. His period of power had been a gradual descent from the position of Protestant hero to that of deserted rebel; and while he felt his power in New York slipping from him, the English government had persistently ignored his once confident claim to be its representative. The appointment of a new governor left Leisler stranded without position or authority. On the arrival of the first ships containing Sloughter’s

escort, Leisler refused admission to the fort to these soldiers, and even went so far as to fire on the King’s troops¹. The governor however refused to treat with him, imprisoned his messengers, and thus induced the last of Leisler’s followers to desert their unhappy leader. At last the gates were opened, and Leisler with his chief officers was placed under arrest, to be tried by a special court; and, convicted by this, he and his chief lieutenant, Milborne, were executed². But the province was fated to endure many years of faction after Leisler’s death. His trial and execution were carried out in such a way that doubts might easily be cast in later days on the constitutionality of the whole proceedings; whilst popular opinion veered round at his death and created a martyr³. For the remainder of William’s reign, if not longer, there were two opposing elements in New York politics, the Leislerites and the anti-Leislerites, both of which could point to certain periods in the two years of revolution, and claim the position of loyalists by ignoring the rest of their party record. Later governors threw themselves violently on one side or the other to the great injury of New York, whilst the bitterness of party feeling, preserved in descendants of the original protagonists, prevented the colony from following its normal course of development.

     At the time of the English revolution, Lord Baltimore, the proprietor of Maryland, was in England, and he received instructions from the Council to proclaim William and Mary in his government. In February he promised to do this, as also did Penn for the Quaker colony of Pennsylvania⁴. Unfortunately, however, for Baltimore, a mishap occurred to the messenger by whom he sent the order, with the result that the proclamation

in Maryland was much belated. Meanwhile, in March, rumours were afoot in the colony that the papists there were concerned in a scheme to hand over land to the Indians; but the council, tracing these rumours to malicious persons, out for the plunder of peaceful citizens, succeeded in temporarily restoring public confidence¹. For several weeks there was a lull, but in June it was reported that ‘the inhabitants, mostly Protestants, are ragingly earnest for the proclaiming of William; . . . They will not believe that the order has not arrived, and that the government are not concealing it². Quietly the Protestant majority asserted their intention to take over the government from Baltimore’s officers, and in July they issued a manifesto and established a revolutionary council with John Coode and Kenelm Cheseldyn at its heads.

     The manifesto of 1689 is concerned with accusations against Lord Baltimore’s government. ‘Plots, contrivances and subscriptions carried on and extorted by him and his officers,’ with charges of disloyalty, are urged against the proprietor, the instances given being the omission of reference to the King in the oath taken by office-holders, and the ill-usage of revenue officers in two cases. Churches and chapels, it is stated, have been turned to popish worship, the officers of the government are papists—not a remarkable circumstance in a colony originally the refuge of Roman Catholics—half the representatives in convention have been picked by the government, and the King’s laws have been enforced only if favourable to the proprietors. In addition, Baltimore has hindered the growth of trade and has suspended the erection of towns. Therefore the ‘Protestant subjects of Maryland’ have altogether abjured their allegiance to the proprietor and have set up that to the King, and are proceeding to summon a full assembly. The year following this publication, Coode and Cheseldyn again sought to justify their action to the King. In this second document they deny that

there was peace under the proprietary government, and repeat the charges of the manifesto, with the addition of accusations of a popish plot and connivance in Indian attacks. Only after William and Mary had been on the throne for five months and still were not proclaimed did the Protestants, according to this letter, take matters into their own hands; and by this time papists were disarming Protestants, conferring with Indians, and spreading false news of James’s success, whilst Protestants were forced to take refuge in Virginia. The rising was followed, Coode continues, by a convention from which papists were excluded and to which Protestants were brought back, all the laws were continued in force, the smallest levy on record was made, and the country held for the Protestant interest¹. A Committee of Secrecy appointed by the convention found that ‘the late Popish Governors have contrived conspired and designed . . . to betray their Majesties’ Protestant subjects to the French, the Northern and other Indians’; and decided that their lives and estates were still in danger from this cause²; and a petition was sent to the King, asking for a general removal of grievances and oppressions, and the security of religious rights and liberties³.

     In June 1690, Lord Baltimore’s agent appealed to the provisional government for his proprietary dues; and these were granted with the proviso that a fixed part of the collection was to be carried out by officials of that government⁴. This arrangement however did not work satisfactorily. Coode accused the agent of stirring up disturbance, and defeating his attempts to preserve order⁵. The agent complained that Cheseldyn was spending his master’s revenue at Plymouth⁶. In other cases, the conduct of the revolutionary government provoked many complaints. One merchant who ‘dared to say what others

hardly dare think¹’ sought protection from forty armed men who had orders to take him, alive or dead (for ‘opposition to their arbitrary and illegal proceedings’), and who seized his ships, dispersed his men out of spite, rifled his house, and destroyed his standing crops². A letter to the Bishop of London contains accusations against Coode of ‘seizing the government on pretence of defending it against French and Indians, and now detaining Lord Baltimore’s revenue, boasting that the King’s commission and their powers will be confirmed, and so threaten us Protestants³.’ Another Protestant petition speaks of the long and peaceful rule of the Baltimores, father and son, until upset by Coode and his party ‘who seized records with titles of property, seized and plundered our estates, and now maintain themselves in their lawlessness by force, styling all others traitors⁴.’

     The true character of Coode is hidden by the abuse of his enemies, but it was certainly not spotless⁵. Nevertheless, his government continued in power with tolerable success until the arrival of a royal governor in 1692, and there are several indications that his policy compared favourably with that of the temporary rulers in the other colonies. In December 1689 every county sent addresses describing its good posture of defence against French and papists⁶. Coode appears also to have had an agent at Albany to remit what information he could obtain of the French proceedings—an indication that the revolutionary leader was not as blind as some to the need for common action against France⁷. A letter was also sent to Virginia, and possibly to other colonies, inviting friendly co-operation.

     We . . . having proclaimed King William and Queen Mary, as (we doubt not) you have also done; do in the next place as Friends, Neighbours, and fellow subjects, solicit and court your friendly and neighbourly correspondency upon all occasions, by imparting. and communicating to us . . [.] all matters of import conducing to Their

Majesties’ service and the good and welfare of their subjects here, . . [.] and in all things whatsoever to bear us your hearty affections, love and goodwill in all the ways of Friendship, and a mutual good correspondency.

The letter concluded with a promise to reciprocate in the matter¹. Such a letter is worthy of note at a time when co-operation between colonies was exceptional rather than usual. Moreover the revolutionary leaders also resisted an attempt in 1692 to permit membership of assembly without the necessity of taking the oaths of allegiance and abhorrence in certain cases of conscience. They decided that this could not be done without open violation of the laws of England².

     At home, the real issue between Baltimore and the colony was avoided. Proceedings were ordered by scire facias against his charter³, and a royal governor appointed as his deputy, with instructions similar to those to the governor in a royal Colony⁴; but the proprietorship still held good nominally, and led to much dispute in the colony during the early years of William’s reign. In 1715 the accession of a Protestant to the title of Lord Baltimore enabled the old system to be fully revived; but while the proprietor was a Catholic, William deemed it wise to choose the governor himself.

     The news of the English revolution reached Virginia towards the end of April; the governor, Lord Howard of Effingham, being at that time on his way to England. Some malcontents attempted to use the occasion to provoke an anti-papist riot, but the council acted wisely and promptly. The ringleaders, spreading rumours of an intended massacre of Protestants, were arrested and imprisoned on board the man-of-war. One Mason, a magistrate, suspected of encouraging riotous behaviour, was removed from the commission; and the proclamation of William

and Mary was carried out in orderly fashion¹. In May 1690, Francis Nicholson returned to America as Lieutenant-Governor of Virginia²; and two years later the governorship was entrusted to Andros³.

     Of the proprietary colonies, Maryland was the only one in which a revolution was provoked. New Jersey had quietly returned to the control of those proprietors who had been overruled by James’s policy of a united New England. Carolina was disturbed, about the same time, by an insurrection against Sothell, a governor appointed by the proprietors; and the beginning of William’s reign coincided with the appointment of Ludwell as governor; but these changes were not the result of the revolution. Carolina had not as yet gone beyond the stage when most of its affairs could be settled by the proprietors; and the new regime was instituted with little comment⁴. As William’s reign advanced its importance increased; but chiefly as a haven for undesirables and as a noted transgressor of the trade laws. Politically, Carolina was still a settlement.

     Pennsylvania too, throughout this period, resembles a settlement rather than a state, but a settlement of different quality from that of Carolina. The Quakers who founded it seemed to lack that spirit of corporate existence which distinguished the Puritan colonies of New England; they carried on the trade which was rapidly making their country prosperous, and took little share in the political and religious prejudices of the Revolution. Thus the affairs of Pennsylvania during the years of turmoil elsewhere were characterized by oddity rather than importance; whilst the colony’s obliviousness to the political issues brought upon them the indignation of their neighbours. Pennsylvania had early news of William’s landing, as New York was informed from that source on the 1st of March 1689; but little of importance occurred as a result. In August, ‘two

Papist gentlemen from Maryland’ appeared in Newcastle, and one magistrate thought that they should be seized. The others however dissented, and after drinking King James’s health the visitors were allowed to go¹. The same magistrate was put out of the Commission because he declined to sit in court until William should be proclaimed. ‘When I represented that he had been proclaimed all over America, they answered that if one man had killed another that was no reason why we should do the like².’ Pennsylvania was peculiar in the respect that its charter rights were, unlike other colonies, closely bound up with the deposed Stuarts, through the intimacy of their founder with James and his brother. Thus to the Quakers, the rule of James stood for liberty, whilst to others it meant autocracy. Leisler complained that Pennsylvania was becoming the resort of Roman Catholics. ‘They encourage if not outdo the Roman Catholics and are the principal cause of our calamities. They assert Penn to be a man of undoubted sincerity, and say that James’s commission holds good to this day³.’ Nicholson too in Virginia was uneasy lest the Quakers should carry on correspondence with French and Indians, and asked for orders to deal with them⁴. Finally in June 1692 Benjamin Fletcher, appointed Governor of New York in succession to Slaughter, had Pennsylvania included in his commission⁵, which gave him power to appoint a lieutenant-governor⁶. ‘The government is very loose owing to the Quakers falling out among themselves⁷. ‘Pennsylvania is in an unsettled state, and should be brought under the Crown⁸. These are the comments of two neighbouring governors.

     In the West Indian colonies, there are no signs of revolutionary ardour. Barbados, under Deputy-Governor Stede, had been troubled lately by the ‘popish practices’ of Sir Thomas Montgomery and Mr Willoughby Chamberlayne, who endeavoured

to procure the appointment of a Roman Catholic governor; but they had been committed¹ before William’s accession was known, and Roman Catholics declared incapable of public employment, and forbidden to say mass². In May, proclamation of the new sovereigns was made ‘in the most solemn, splendid and glorious manner that this poor island could afford. . . . The noble, stately and no wise ordinary sort of proclaiming their Majesties would have a little surprised you, had you been there,’ says Stede, giving full and elaborate details of the festivities³. The following year he was superseded by a commission as governor given to James Kendall, whose service to William and Mary was great in Barbados.

     In the Leeward Islands, Sir Nathaniel Johnson was in power. Writing home in December 1688, the governor stated that he would be of more use to King James in England than here⁴; but on receiving orders from William he made the required proclamations sending in his resignation immediately afterwards with a dignified letter explaining his opinions, but protesting that until his successor arrived he would serve the Islands faithfully⁵. Such an open avowal of loyalty to James could not escape accusation, even in face of Johnson’s personal honour; and in July he was accused of an attempt to betray his government to the French at Martinique. The council of Antigua however expressed their faith in Johnson⁶, but deemed it wise that his resignation should be accepted; and ten days later the command devolved on Christopher Codrington as Lieutenant-General, later commissioned Governor⁷.

     In Jamaica also the revolution was peacefully accomplished. The corruption of administration during the governorship of the

Duke of Albemarle in James II’s reign, had been condemned by the King before his deposition, and all Albemarle’s acts reversed. William reiterated this condemnation¹. Two governors appointed in succession, Molesworth and Inchiquin, both died before they had been long in office; and the task of reorganizing the affairs of Jamaica after the great earthquake of 1692 was given over to William Beeston², whose deserving efforts make up, with those of Kendall and Codrington, a trio of singularly efficient administrations which the reign of William III bestowed on the West Indian islands.

     The development of colonial policy before the Revolution had shown that it was largely independent of the domestic policy of the crown, or at least that the questions at issue in England were so far different from the question of the colonial relationship that changes of dynasty, brought about at home, could not be guaranteed to produce any change in colonial government. The restoration had not the effect of bringing back the method of treatment in vogue before the Great Rebellion. The biggest development hitherto seen in colonial policy had come about in the closing years of Charles II’s reign and had been carried on by his brother. It is therefore incorrect to assume that in 1689 revolutions in the colonies were bound to reflect the revolution at home or even to occur at all.

     Moreover, few of the colonies were at that time political entities capable of revolution. In the West Indian islands, the governments were small, and the white population little more than half of the whole³; whilst political feeling was practically absent. The vital questions were those of production and of export duties on produce⁴. Private interests reigned supreme, as is unfortunately too often evident in the conduct of governors.

There were few to revolt, and little to revolt against. On the mainland the same applies to the lesser colonies. Carolina was still a mere settlement, with private interests paramount. New Jersey was small and divided. Pennsylvania had been founded only seven years, and as yet the settlers’ interests were those of the proprietor, both peaceful to an exceptional degree.

     Of the stronger colonies, Virginia was under royal government and there was little political feeling against that government, little change that a new King in England might be expected to bring about. Virginia did not fear union with other colonies; only the less important objected to that. And the cultivation of tobacco, with absence of proprietary rights, meant that Virginia fitted into the existing system as well as she was likely to fit into any. The same might have applied to Maryland, had it not been for the proprietary rights of the Baltimores, which, associated as they were with the religion of the minority, proved irksome enough to induce a mild species of revolution. In New York and New England, there existed a definitely objectionable system of government. Especially in Massachusetts, but also in Connecticut and Rhode Island, there was strong division of feeling between the supporters of the old charter and the representatives of the new centralized government. In these circumstances, revolt was worth risking. The two lesser colonies, joined to the greater in a forced union, were almost unanimous in their independent ambitions, and did not need to use force when Massachusetts had destroyed their tyrant for them. All they needed to do was quietly to resume their cherished privileges. New York, too, in a less degree shared the resentment of New England, but there party feeling was a more considerable factor. Twenty-five years previous, the colony had been Dutch, and the enmity of the two nations was not yet dead¹; whilst the Dutch element undoubtedly contributed much to the New York revolution². New York therefore waited until news of Andros’ imprisonment arrived, and then overturned the government, substituting the rule of faction

more acrimonious and more unfortunate in its results than the zeal of the New England colonies. Moreover, in tracing the causes of the revolutions, it is worthy of note that the serious revolts occurred in those two colonies which had for their capitals the already important towns of Boston and New York. Towns are notorious breeders of revolution, and there is nothing in the history of the colonial outbreaks to belie that tradition.

     It would be premature here to discuss at length the effects on the colonies of the revolution in England, but one or two points already emerge. The government of James II, and Andros under him, clearly stood for union and centralization. Of these, union was undoubtedly delayed by the change of rulers. William was forced by the logic of his position to refrain from following immediately the example of the deposed Stuarts; and the colonies were once more divided. But whether the result was beneficial or the reverse depended on the ability of James to carry out his plans. Failure at that stage would have been disaster; and yet there were many obstacles, not the least being those which geographical position places in the way of scattered settlers in a new country. William had at any rate the advantage of James’s unpopularity; and by tactful government might preserve the reality of the old control, while removing its irksomeness. As for centralization, the second of James’s objects, here also there arises the problem of possibilities. The effect of overthrowing the Stuarts was to overthrow an attempt at central control, and to make possible the rise of assemblies, and the disorder of factions, under a limited monarchy. Again, could James have avoided this in the long run, and would not failure have been more sudden and disastrous than under a wise administration of the new system?

     Finally, there is the question of the French war. In James’s reign, all was tending to war. The frigid politeness of Denonville, the stubborn pertinacity of Dongan, concealed only superficially the undercurrent of war, which was already going on through the Indian nations. The expansion of French and English colonization was fast bringing them to an impasse.

Moreover, one of James II’s great achievements was his care for the British navy; and the growth of the navy threatened war, sooner or later. The accession of William of Orange made this position logical. The determined opponent of Louis XIV in Europe became the determined opponent of Louis in America. Instead of hostilities inadequately explained away by diplomatists, instead of treaties of neutrality that neither side believed in and neither intended to observe, the accession of William the Dutchman began that struggle in the New World which was not to end until one of the combatants had been driven from the continent.

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