the "home government." After Charles II.
came to the throne in 1660 he began to interfere with the affairs of
Massachusetts, and so the very first generation of men that had been
born on the soil of that commonwealth were engaged in a long struggle
against the British king for the right of managing their own affairs.
After more than twenty years of this struggle, which by 1675 had come to
be quite bitter, the charter of Massachusetts was annulled in 1684 and
its free government was for the moment destroyed. Presently a viceroy
was sent over from England, to govern Massachusetts (as well as several
other northern colonies) despotically. This viceroy, Sir Edmund Andros,
seems to have been a fairly well meaning man. He was not especially
harsh or cruel, but his rule was a despotism, because he was not
responsible to the people for what he did, but only to the king. In
point of fact the two-and-a-half years of his administration were
characterized by arbitrary arrests and by interference with private
property and with the freedom of the press. It was so vexatious that
early in 1689, taking advantage of the Revolution then going on in
England, the people of Boston rose in rebellion, seized Andros and threw
him into jail, and set up for themselves a provisional government. When
the affairs of New England were settled after the accession of William
and Mary to the throne, Connecticut and Rhode Island were allowed to
keep their old governments; but Massachusetts in 1693 was obliged to
take a new charter instead of her old one, and although this new charter
revived the election of legislatures by the people, it left the
governors henceforth to be appointed by the king.

In the political controversies of Massachusetts, therefore, in the
eighteenth century, the people were animated by the recollection of what
they had lost. They were somewhat less free and independent than their
grandfathers had been, and they had learned what it was to have an
irresponsible ruler sitting at his desk in Boston and signing warrants
for the arrest of loved and respected citizens who dared criticise his
sayings and doings. "Taxation without representation" was not for them a
mere abstract theory; they knew what it meant. It was as near to them as
the presidency of Andrew Jackson is to us; there had not been time
enough to forget it. In every contest between the popular legislature
and the royal governor there was some broad principle involved which