to reveal the unsuspected danger. Boston endurance had lasted three years or more, and no outbreak. The news of William's landing (April 4, 1689) crossed the wires and set the current in motion, yet with no immediate result more than what Andros calls "a general buzzing among the people"-so that he had his soldiers ready. One morning (April 18th), however, the captain of the frigate Rose stepped ashore as usual, entered into a wordy altercation with some shipcarpenters, and they seized him. That was the touch that revealed the latent electricity. Crowds formed, arrested the sheriff and others. An eye-witness saw boys running, clubs in hand, and "men running some with and some for arms"-a regular popular uprising. Then the drums beat, rallying the companies to the Town Hall, where the captains and other citizens "consulted matters." Meantime old Simon Bradstreet, a former Governor, came in. And although he was now nearly ninety years old, as the most fitting thing to do they immediately made him and other old magistrates under the charter a committee of safety. Such was the inception of the Boston revolution, a "sudden taking up arms" by the people (they tell Andros), an "accident," to their own surprise and that of those with them at the Town Hall. But now the whole town rose in arms, "with the most unanimous resolution," says one, "that ever inspired a people"; and in two days the revolution was accomplished and Andros a prisoner.

AUREA FLORICER

The narrative thus far was necessary, since it was news from Boston and the push of her example that set New-York in motion; but the revolution there had a local coloring of its own, scenes more exciting, an ending more tragic. It ended in the trial and execution of acting Lieutenant-Governor Leisler for high treason-the only such execution in our State history. In both society and politics that culmination of party passion left its fretmark and furrow for many years. Nor has the story yet become a mere fossil, an unknown something raked out of the rubbish of history.

As the groundwork, then, let us first have in mind the New-York of that time. A small city, compressed below Wall street, with Harlem as an "out-ward" beyond the fields; its population about thirty-five hundred, and that of the whole province to Albany and Schenectady not more than twenty thousand. The rest was wilderness, with Indian tribes, and beyond them, on the north, Canada or New France, the constant breeding-place of intrigues and dangers, which, like arctic birds, the season might bring south. On the other side, again, the little city had the sea as a danger, and for defense only a fort out of repair. Add

the heterogeneous population, so different from homogeneous Boston -English, Dutch, and French refugees (of the latter some two hundred families) and we have a foundation for some things to come. At what moment, for instance, might not war in Europe between France and Holland or England involve themselves; and what wonder, if rumors, whether home-bred or imported, made

Mame R

them tremulous! Facts traveled but slowly those days, by small Dutch luggers or the primitive messenger-boy, whilst rumor sped rapidly here, there, and everywhere. Truth was but a lame horse in any race with rumor. It could not be telegraphed, as it now is, before rumor landed. Nor were the rumors and their fears always baseless. What were the actual instructions of Louis XIV. to Count Frontenac as we now know them? If he found in the city any French refugees, "particularly those of the pretended Reformed religion," they were to be shipped back to France; any Catholics, English or Dutch, on whom he could rely, he might leave in their habitations; the other principal inhabitants were to be held in prison for ransom, and outlying settlements to be destroyed! Shipped back to France! Remember what it portended for many of them forced Romanism, or persecution and endangered liberties; and remember that the revocation of the Edict of Nantes and its sequel, the dragonades, were so recent as 1685. Therefore they doubted and watched the sea, and more than once rumor played tricks with their fears. Nor were they less excitable over matters inland. On the north, Canada, whose Jesuit missionaries were the busiest and best of propagandists. Consumed with an indefatigable zeal, these men obeyed orders, went wherever sent, and throughout the North were the ablest architects of French power. A danger too distant, it may seem to us, to have much effect, but not so to them. As when some strong insect touches the end of a spider's web, even a thread, it thrills at once to the center, and may endanger the whole; so a French, or French and Indian, invasion at any point affected the province. The burning of Schenectady in 1690, although only sixty lives were lost, startled every northern colony into action. And for the reason of this danger, they feared the Jesuits. Good and simple-hearted as were some of these missionaries, a Jesuit was to them a bee with wings and

an en

a sting — no errand for his faith too remote, and to be feared always and everywhere for the harm he might do. His presence in the northern woods was almost itself a danger-signal of French intrigues, Indian alliances, attempted conquest, and what that meant under Louis XIV. But there was something more than this, and yet connected with it. The efforts of James to advance his own religion among them had alarmed them thoroughly, had made the word "popish" first and uppermost in the popular mind, even over their civil grievances. In that heterogeneous population, not in full national sympathy, what might not be done by information given to, or some effort in behalf of, an outside enemy? It bred suspicion and rumors and fears. There were two dangers, Louis and James, each standing in the popular mind for popery. What wonder if, later, when words of stigma flew between the parties like shuttlecocks, whoever or whatever savored of James or reaction, or opposition to the revolution, should be dubbed "popish"! It all made the landing of William an event of joy.

QUOD TIBI

VIS FIERI

FACIAS

THE PHILIPSE ARMS.

It is not unimportant to know what lay behind that revolution and gave it peculiarity. Emotions, popular or personal, have roots more or less deep-seated; and when at last the revolution appeared above ground, it had a strength and diffusion and coloring not to be accounted for by superficial causes. It was no such performance as an Indian juggler achieves who plants a seed in the sand, waters it, and at length produces an outspread bush, by means hidden by him under a basket. It had roots enough in their situation, in long-continued civil exactions, in religious fears excited by Louis and James, and the disaffection thereto consequent. The officials of James when it began (as we have seen) were Nicholson, the Lieutenant-Governor under Andros at Boston; with a resident Council consisting of Bayard, Philipse, and Van Cortlandt-names of constant recurrence in this chapter. And now late in April, 1689, there occurred in the city a great "uproar" (I am quoting the Council), an "uproar through people coming from Boston," who brought "the surprising news that its inhabitants had set up a government for themselves and disabled his Excellency from acting." An exciting yeast to the prevailing discontent, one sure to cause a rising! But what thought Nicholson and his Council about it? We have it in their letter to Andros, "We cannot imagine that any such actions can proceed from any person of quality amongst them, but rather that they were promoted by the rabble,”—the key-note (as I think we shall find) to much of this chapter. First, it will be seen, they ignore utterly any grounds of general disaffection to James and Andros and his government; it must have been "the rabble." And

second, what a sharp distinction they draw between persons of quality and "the rabble"! No "person of quality" would join in "such actions"- these were, to them, the two classes composing the community. And when it comes to New-York, where they themselves are the responsible government, under Andros, it will be the same; no cause, "the lower classes, the rabble"! It is most important, at this point, to get their position. Of course they sympathized with Andros and not with the revolution in Boston; but that does not explain everything. As to Francis Nicholson, he was an old soldier whose royal master at present was James. Being out of the whirl and sweep of things in England, he had no belief as yet in William's success against

him. "Nonsense," he exclaimed contemptuously, "the very 'prentice boys of London would drive him out again." Of course, therefore, he would do nothing till William was king, or he was forced to. Frederick Philipse, his oldest councilor, was the wealthiest man in

the city, the first pro

prietor of the Philipse manor, "den Heer" Philipse, who, as a councilor also, had held proud preeminence for twenty years; reserved, cautious, and it is said a wonderfully shrewd trimmer for safety or profit, but not one to be ousted from office if he could help it, not one to yield willingly his place in the government whoever might be king, William or James. Stephen Van Cortlandt was also known as "den Heer" Van Cortlandt, his wife as Mevrouw (Lady) Van Cortlandt; a man personally most estimable and respected; as Mayor of the city, public-spirited; charitable, an elder in the Dutch Church, but with the pride and prejudices of class and position and wealth. The most conspicuous in these events, however, although the youngest, was Nicholas Bayard, described to us as bright, witty, elegant, and with warm friends among his social and political equals, but fond of display, imperious, quick-tempered, and vindictive, and by his inferiors feared and disliked - a point to be remembered in the sequel. It now connects our narrative with the past and accounts for much, to say that these three, Philipse, Van Cortlandt, and Bayard, with five others- all well known at Whitehallhad been carefully selected as councilors by James when, in 1686, he

annulled the liberties of the people; when he made Dongan and the Council the absolute law-makers and tax-gatherers. They were there as the Council during his administration; when, as Secretary Randolph pithily put it, the people were being "squeezed dry"; when old titles to real estate were disputed, that larger fees might be exacted; when six farmers of Easthampton, who protested against the tyranny, were arraigned before them; there, compliant agents of James in whatever he ordered, and concerned in whatever was done. Could they expect to hold the emoluments without sharing the odium? Could they expect it to be forgotten, when, for a time, they chose to acknowledge William? Could they expect at once so to sever themselves from James and Andros and their obnoxious acts as to go right on, still the government because they claimed it? They did expect it, they did claim it, and that was the trouble. They belonged to a class which, by reason of wealth and other adjuncts, had for years almost preëmpted the government. They asked and obtained and held the offices, they affiliated with the governors. Socially they were the ones who gave dinners and balls, who did the entertaining for viceroyalty, and lived themselves in the grand style of the day-some of them very elegant, refined, and cultivated people, both Dutch and French and English. "Persons of quality" they claimed to be, "people of figure," society; the aristocracy of the little city when aristocracy was quite a thing under the royal governors; as naturally a party, what Bancroft calls the cabal that had grown up around the Royal governors." Outside were "the lower classes, the rabble," as they were pleased to call them. They expected and claimed for themselves, by right of rank in the community, the offices, the government. New England had no similar aristocracy, topping the surrounding earth with such pride; they would not have endured it.

66

It is now easy to understand their quandary at the time of the "uproar." Boston had not waited for news of William's success; Boston had overthrown Andros at once, and set up a "government for themselves." How to hinder the same in New-York, that was their problem; for they meant to hold on, "to continue in their station," at least "till further orders." They had no other thought; and, unfortunately, those "further orders" were a long time in coming. Meanwhile they held consultations; went among the people; told them there was "no need of a revolution," that "Nicholson was honest," "a little patience and orders would come to establish everything upon a proper basis." Very good advice, with but one weak point; how long would the people be willing to continue under James' Governor and James' Council, and with William not proclaimed? For a time, however, it succeeded; the people had "patience," with only (as in Boston) "a general buzzing"; they were as yet like bees without a