Before the agents arrived in the summer of 1682, the royal patience was exhausted. Randolph's continued complaints that he was obstructed in every way in the performance of his duties; the act of the colony in setting up a naval office of its own; the revival of an old law imposing the death penalty upon any one who should "attempt the alteration or subversion of the frame of government"; the opinion of the Attorney-General that the colony had done quite enough to warrant the forfeiture of its charter; and the delay in sending the agents, which seemed a further flouting of the royal commands—all these things brought matters to a crisis. Therefore, when finally the Massachusetts agents reached England, they found the situation hopeless. "It is a hard service we are engaged in," they wrote; "we stand in need of help from Heaven." Their want of powers provoked the Lords of Trade to say that unless they were procured, the charter would be forfeited at once. Randolph was called back in May, 1683, to aid in the legal proceedings which were immediately set on foot. Other charters were falling: that of the Bermuda Company was under attack; that of the City of London was already forfeited; and those of other English boroughs were in danger. On June 27, a writ of quo warranto was issued out of the Court of King's Bench against the colony. The agents, refusing to defend the suit, returned to New England, and the writ was given to Randolph to serve. He reached Boston in October, but owing to delays in the colony and a tempestuous voyage back, he was unable to return it to England within the allotted time. The first attempt failed, but another was soon made. By the advice of the Attorney-General, suit was brought in the Court of Chancery by writ of scire facias against the company, and upon the rendering of judgment for non-appearance the charter was declared forfeited on October 23, 1684.
Though the colony was given no opportunity to defend the suit, the charter was legally vacated according to the forms of English law. The colony was but a corporation, its charter but a corporation charter, and in only one respect did it differ from other corporations, namely, its residence in America. The methods of vacating corporate charters in England were definite and in this case were strictly followed. Had Massachusetts been a corporation in fact as well as in law, it is doubtful if the question of illegality would ever have been raised; but as this particular corporation was a Puritan commonwealth, the issue was so vital to its continuance as to lead to the charge of unjust and illegal oppression. On moral grounds a defence of the colony is always possible, though it is difficult to uphold the Massachusetts system. It was certainly neither popular nor democratic, tolerant nor progressive, and in any case it must eventually have undergone transformation from within. The city of Boston was increasing in wealth and importance, and trade was bringing it into ever closer contact with the outside world. There were growing up in the colony more open-minded and progressive men who were opposing the dominance of the country party, which found its last governor in Leverett, its chief advocates among the clergy, and its strength in the House of Representatives, and which wished to preserve things as they always had been. The leaders of this conservative party, Danforth, Nowell, Cooke, and others, struggled courageously against all concessions, but they were bound to be beaten in the end.
That the conservative members of the colony were thoroughly in earnest and thoroughly convinced of the absolute righteousness of their position, admits of no doubt. No man could speak of the loss of the charter as a breach in the "Hedge which kept us from the Wild Beasts of the Field," as did Cotton Mather, without expressing a fear of a Stuart, of an Anglican, and of a Papist that was as real as the terrors of witchcraft. To the orthodox Puritans, the preservation of their religious doctrines and government and the maintenance of their moral and social standards were a duty to God, and to admit change was a sin against the divine command. But such an unyielding system could not last; in fact, it was already giving way. Though conjecture is difficult, it seems likely that the English interference delayed rather than hastened the natural growth and transformation of the colony, because it united moderates and irreconcilables against a common enemy—the authority of the Crown.
CHAPTER X
THE ANDROS RÉGIME IN NEW ENGLAND
Without a charter Massachusetts stood bereft of her privileges and at the mercy of the royal will. She was now a royal colony, immediately under the control of the Crown and likely to receive a royal governor and a royal administration, as had other royal colonies. But the actual form that reconstruction took in New England was peculiar and rendered the conditions there unlike those in any other royal colony in America. The territory was enlarged by including New Hampshire, which was already in the King's hands, Plymouth, which was at the King's mercy because it had no charter, Maine, and the Narragansett country. Eventually there were added Connecticut, Rhode Island, New York, and the Jerseys—eight colonies in all, a veritable British dominion beyond the seas. For its Governor, Colonel Percy Kirke, recently returned from Tangier, was considered, but Randolph, whose advice was asked, knowing that a man like Kirke, "short-tempered, rough-spoken, and dissolute," would not succeed, urged that his name be withdrawn. It was agreed that the Governor should have a council, and at first the Lords of Trade recommended a popular assembly, whenever the Governor saw fit; but in this important particular they were overborne by the Crown. After debate in a cabinet council, it was determined "not to subject the Governor and council to convoke general assemblies of the people, for the purpose of laying on taxes and regulating other matters of importance." This unfortunate decision was a characteristic Stuart blunder for which the Duke of York (afterwards James II), Lord Jeffreys (not yet Lord Chancellor), and other ministers were responsible. Kirke, Jeffreys, and the Duke of York may well have seemed to Cotton Mather "Wild Beasts of the Field," dangerous to be entrusted with the shaping of the affairs of a Puritan commonwealth.
The death of Charles II in February, 1685, postponed action in England, and in Massachusetts the government went on as usual, the elections taking place and deputies meeting, though with manifest half-heartedness. Randolph was able to prevent the sending of Kirke, and finally succeeded in persuading the authorities that it would be a good plan to set up a temporary government, while they were making up their minds whom to appoint as a permanent governor-general of the new dominion. He obtained a commission as President for Joseph Dudley, son of the former Governor, an ambitious man, with little sympathy for the old faction and friendly to the idea of broadening the life of the colony by fostering closer relations with England. Randolph himself received an appointment as register and secretary of the colony, and for once in his life seemed riding to fortune on the high tide of prosperity. In 1685, he obtained nearly £500 for his services and for his losses up to that date; and when the following January he started on his fifth voyage to New England, he bore with him not only the judgment against the charter, the commission to Dudley as President, and two writs of quo warranto against Connecticut and Rhode Island, but also a sheaf of offices for himself—secretary, postmaster, collector of customs. He was later to become deputy-auditor and surveyor of the woods. With him went also the Reverend Robert Ratcliffe, rector of the first Anglican church set up in Boston. Just a week after the arrival of Randolph and Ratcliffe in Boston, the old assembly met for the last time, and on May 21, 1686, voted its adjournment with the pious hope, destined to be unfulfilled, that it would meet again the following October. The Massachusetts leaders seem almost to have believed in a miraculous intervention of Providence to thwart the purposes of their enemy.
The preliminary government lasted but six months and altered the life of the people but little. For "Governor and Company" was substituted "President and Council," a more modish name, as some one said, but not necessarily one that savored of despotism. But however conciliatory Dudley might wish to be, his acceptance of a royal commission rankled in the minds of his countrymen; and his ability, his friendly policy, his desire to leave things pretty much as they had been, counted for nothing because of his compact with the enemy. In the opinion of the old guard, he had forsaken his birthright and had turned traitor to the land of his origin. Time has modified this judgment and has shown that, however unlovely Dudley was in personal character and however lacking he was at all times in self-control, he was an able administrator, of a type common enough in other colonies, particularly in the next century, serving both colony and mother country alike and linking the two in a common bond. Under him and his council Massachusetts suffered no hardships. He confirmed all existing arrangements regarding land, taxes, and town organization, and, knowing Massachusetts and the temper of her people as well as he did, he took pains to write to the King that it would be helpful to all concerned if the Government could have a representative assembly. To grant the people a share in government would, he believed, appease discontent on one side and help to fill an empty treasury on the other; but nothing came of his suggestion.