The Tyrant of New England: Hartford and Wadsworth
In the reign of James II., petitions so reasonable and just could not be heard. The prince at home, and his officers abroad, like greedy harpies, preyed upon the people without control. Randolph was not ashamed to make his boast, in his letters, with respect to Governor Andros and his council, "that they were as arbitrary as the Great Turk." All New England groaned under their oppression. The heaviest share of it, however, fell upon the inhabitants of Massachusetts and New Plymouth. Connecticut had been less obnoxious to government than Massachusetts, and, as it was further removed from the seat of government, was less under the notice and influence of those oppressors.
All the motives to great actions, to industry, economy, enterprise, wealth, and population, were in a manner annihilated. A general inactivity and languishment pervaded the whole public body. Liberty, property, and everything which ought to be dear to men, every day grew more and more insecure. The colonies were in a state of general despondency with respect to the restoration of their privileges, and the truth of that divine maxim, "When the wicked beareth rule the people mourn," was, in a striking manner, everywhere exemplified.
Fortunately, this grinding tyranny was not of long continuance. Early in 1689 tidings reached Boston that James II. was no longer king: in November, 1688, William of Orange had landed in England and driven the tyrant from his throne. The Bostonians at once rebelled against Andros. His tyranny was denounced by the magistrates, and he, with several of his creatures, was seized and imprisoned. Andros twice attempted to escape from confinement, and once got as far as Rhode Island, but was captured and brought back. In July he was sent to England, where he was acquitted without trial. And so ended the most prominent early effort to take away the liberties of the American people. Andros was subsequently (in 1692) made governor of Virginia. Here, however, his rule was less arbitrary, and he became popular with the planters.
The traditions of early Connecticut present one more scene of great dramatic interest, in which the spirit of liberty of the people, and the energy of Captain Wadsworth, were manifested in the same determined manner as in the incident described. This occurred in 1693, during King William's War. An account of it may be quoted from Trumbull.]
Colonel Benjamin Fletcher, governor of New York, who had arrived at the seat of his government August 29, 1692, had received a commission entirely inconsistent with the charter rights and safety of the colonies. He was vested with plenary powers of commanding the whole militia of Connecticut and the neighboring provinces. He insisted on the command of the militia of Connecticut. As this was expressly given to the colony, by charter, the legislature would not submit to his requisition.
A special Assembly met, and drew up a petition to the king, representing the true state of affairs in the colony, and the disadvantage and danger which might result from giving the command of the militia to the governor of another province.
The colony wished to serve his majesty's interest, and as far as possible, consistently with their chartered rights, to maintain a good understanding with Governor Fletcher. William Pitkin, Esquire, was therefore sent to New York, to treat and make terms with him respecting the militia, until his majesty's pleasure should be further known. But no terms could be made with him short of an explicit submission of the militia to his command.
On the 26th of October he came to Hartford, while the Assembly were sitting, and, in his majesty's name, demanded their submission of the militia to his command, as they would answer it to his majesty, and that they would give him a speedy answer in two words, Yes, or No.. He ordered the militia of Hartford under arms, that he might beat up for volunteers. It was judged expedient to call the train-bands of Hartford together; but the Assembly insisted that the command of the militia was expressly vested, by charter, in the governor and company, and that they could by no means, consistently with their just rights and the common safety, resign it into any other hands.
In response Governor Fletcher made the declaration that he had no design upon the civil rights of the colonists, and offered the command of the militia to Governor Treat, under his commission.
The Assembly, nevertheless, would not give up the command of the militia; nor would Governor Treat receive a commission from Colonel Fletcher.
The train-bands of Hartford assembled, and, as the tradition is, while Captain Wadsworth, the senior officer, was walking in front of the companies and exercising the soldiers, Colonel Fletcher ordered his commission and instructions to be read. Captain Wadsworth instantly commanded, "Beat the drums;" and there was such a roaring of them that nothing else could be heard. Colonel Fletcher commanded silence. But no sooner had Bayard made an attempt to read again, than Wadsworth commands, "Drum, drum, I say." The drummers understood their business, and instantly beat up with all the art and life of which they were masters. "Silence, silence," says the colonel. No sooner was there a pause, than Wadsworth speaks with great earnestness, "Drum, drum, I say;" and, turning to his excellency, said, "If I am interrupted again I will make the sun shine through you in a moment." He spoke with such energy in his voice and meaning in his countenance that no further attempts were made to read or enlist men. Such numbers of people collected together, and their spirits appeared so high, that the governor and his suite judged it expedient soon to leave the town and return to New York.