58 AMIAS ANDROS AND 



to invade their especial territories involved spiritual as well as 

 bodily danger. But Sir Edmund had taken up " the white 

 man's burden " two centuries before Kipling put it into 

 words : — 



" To wait in heavy harness 

 On fluttered folk and wild — 

 Tour new-caught sullen peoples 

 Half devil and half child." 



But other troubles now began to gather around him thick 

 and fast. His wife, who had been his constant companion 

 through so many vicissitudes, died soon after his return to 

 Boston. We are told that he gave her a most impressive 

 funeral, for she was " buried by torch-light, the corpse haviug 

 been carried from the Governor's residence to the South 

 Church in a hearse drawn by six horses and attended by a 

 suitable Guard of Honour." (1) But her husband had no one 

 to sympathise with him in his grief, for his unpopularity 

 continued to increase. Undoubtedly he had been unnecessarily 

 arbitrary and harsh on occasions and showed an ugly temper 

 when opposed, so that as soon as the news arrived of the 

 revolution in England, by which His Royal master James II. 

 had been successfully deposed by William of Orange, the 

 people of Boston resolved to mutiny in their turn. This 

 rebellion broke out in April 1689, and, while presiding in the 

 Council Chamber, Andros was set upon, bound, and imprisoned 

 in the Fort, while the same fate befel his delegate, Nicholson, 

 in New York. 



For nine months Sir Edmund languished in the Boston 

 prison ; once he managed to escape from it and to get as far as 

 Rhode Island, but he was speedily recaptured and led back 

 into captivity, reaping 



" the old reward 

 The blame of those ye better, 

 The hate of those ye guard." 



On December 10th, 1689, he, Nicholson, and a few loyal 

 adherents, with certain of their accusers, sailed for England, 

 summoned to appear before a Court of Enquiry which was 

 appointed by William III. It must have been very bitter to 

 him to feel that he was returning as a deposed prisoner from a 

 command that only three years previously he had assumed 

 amid general acclamations ; and, brave man though he was, 

 he must have felt that the Americans had some grounds for 

 believing that William of Orange would be particularly un- 

 relenting to such an ardent partizan of the Stuarts as he had 

 always been. Directly after he had sailed his arch-enemy, 



(1) New York Colonial Documents II., p. 741. 



