5

EXCLUSION, THE TORY ASCENDANCY, AND THE ENGLISH EMPIRE, 1678–1688

On the eve of the Exclusion Crisis, the Lords of Trade and Plantations were on high alert. Consistent problems governing Barbados and Jamaica, not to mention Virginia, New York, and New England, heightened imperial tensions throughout the 1670s. Some colonial governors, like Sir Jonathan Atkins of Barbados, seemed to thrive on repeatedly angering imperial authorities. In early 1678, William Blathwayt, the principal secretary to the Lords of Trade, ordered Atkins to send a complete survey of the colony’s laws for the lords to investigate. The committee’s desire to “acquaint themselves with the true constitution of each [colonial] government” was a reflection of their wish for greater control over colonial administration. Atkins had sent some laws to London in 1677, but Blathwayt and the committee grew increasingly dissatisfied. In April 1679 Atkins finally sent the laws, but he argued that “there was never any laws sent home before by any of the preceding Governors.”1

The conflict did not end there. In the meantime, the man in charge of collecting the 4.5 percent duty on all goods exported from Barbados, Colonel John Strode, petitioned the Lords of Trade complaining of two laws in effect in the colony. The acts, passed in 1675 and renewed in 1678, allowed merchants to reclaim duties collected on goods that were subsequently “lost or taken at sea.” Strode protested that the laws were “repugnant to law & equity, and are made solely for lessening ye King’s revenue.” Upon investigating this claim, the Lords of Trade discovered they had no record of either law among the papers received from Atkins that summer. The acts themselves were bad enough, but it was far worse that Atkins had apparently tried to prevent the Lords of Trade from finding out about them. The Lords nullified the laws and informed the king that “Sir Jonathan Atkins has failed to be accomptable unto us of divers particulars relating to his Government, without a true and constant knowledge whereof, we shall find ourselves unable to perform that service towards your Majesty which is incumbent on us.” The King-in-Council ordered Atkins to “not intermeddle with our revenue so that any part of it may be thereby lessened or interrupted,” and warned him that if he failed to follow orders, he would lose his job. The king soon issued orders to all colonial governors warning them that neglecting to send home laws for inspection “had not better effects than a rebellion.”2

The use of the word “rebellion” in December 1679 was telling and deliberate. In the summer of 1678, Titus Oates made allegations of an extensive Popish Plot to assassinate the king and slaughter untold numbers of English Protestants. Although his claims eventually proved to be entirely fabricated, Oates’s revelations triggered widespread political uncertainty and implicated many Catholics and Catholic sympathizers with close ties to the government. The Duke of York was especially vulnerable. Those who had been wary of what they felt to be the arbitrary and popish tendencies of Charles II’s government saw their opportunity and began a movement to exclude York from the succession. From 1679 to 1681, the House of Commons tried on three occasions to pass a bill that would have excluded York or any Catholic from taking the throne. Exclusionists, who generally became known as Whigs, were unsuccessful in their efforts. But the unstable political environment generated by Exclusionist Whigs and their anti-Exclusionist Tory opponents had far-reaching consequences.³ Many scholars have maintained that the Exclusion Crisis was not simply about removing York from the succession, but that it was a divisive ideological crisis of confidence in Charles II and his government.⁴ Most important, the crisis was understood as a serious threat to the regime by the Stuarts and their allies. Therefore in 1679 fear of rebellion at home and in the colonies on the part of the Crown was very real. Colonial governors failing to follow orders threatened to undermine the integrity of the empire and the prerogative authority upon which it was based.

This chapter explores the imperial implications of the Exclusion Crisis and its aftermath. The period began with the Crown on the offensive, continuing its assault on colonial autonomy that had been initiated by the Lords of Trade in 1675. But the Exclusion Crisis greatly weakened the government’s ability to govern the colonies effectively. This reflected the inherent connections between domestic and imperial affairs as the crisis reverberated across the Atlantic. The Royal African Company’s authority and influence was significantly undermined by the unpleasant focus on its governor the Duke of York, who spent much of the crisis in exile. But the Crown and company also learned from this moment of weakness, and in the aftermath of Exclusion both emerged stronger than ever. Charles II and York felt that in order to ensure stability at home and in the colonies, utmost care had to be taken to control and even remove potential troublemakers from power, especially those with Exclusionist or Whiggish sympathies.

The final years of Charles’s reign, 1681–1685, have traditionally been called a period of “Tory Reaction.” Tory political ideals were dominant, and anti-Exclusionists were firmly in control of key political offices, both nationally and in municipal governments. Exclusionist Whigs were silenced or fled the country. In terms of imperial administration, the Tory Reaction is more accurately described as a Tory Ascendancy, which continued through James II’s reign (1685–1688). This final phase of Stuart imperialism was marked by the reemergence of the African Company at the center of English imperial and commercial designs. For York and the African Company, the accumulated lessons of the previous two decades underscored the need for strong policies but also a willingness to adapt to changing military, diplomatic, political, and economic circumstances. The company also became more successful commercially, as its monopoly was better enforced and interlopers lost market share in the West Indies.5 This inevitably brought further confrontations with big planters, independent merchants, and colonial governors. By the time of James II’s reign, all three of the West Indies colonies had governors or lieutenant governors handpicked by the king because of their unwavering support of extending prerogative control in the colonies, armed with new instructions to promote the commercial and diplomatic interests of the African Company. Central to the evolving imperial agendas of both colonists and the Crown was a growing reliance on slavery and the transatlantic slave trade.

THE EXCLUSION CRISIS AND IMPERIAL ADMINISTRATION

The Exclusion Crisis has often been treated by historians as a moment when imperial affairs took a back seat to more pressing domestic concerns. But political upheaval in England informed almost all major policy decisions regarding imperial administration. In the wake of the investigation into the Popish Plot in the fall of 1678, the Catholic Duke of York became the focus of intense suspicion and mistrust. In addition, the House of Commons began impeachment proceedings against Lord Treasurer Thomas Osborne, the Earl of Danby, who was removed from the Privy Council and Lords of Trade. He faced charges of maintaining a standing army in England on the pretense that war against France was imminent, but that war never materialized. According to Danby’s enemies, this army was meant to be used to promote the interests of “popery and arbitrary government,” which became the rallying cry of the Exclusionist movement. In response, Charles II dissolved the Cavalier Parliament and called the first election since 1661. The new Parliament that met in March 1679 contained significant numbers of MPs opposed to York, Danby, and the continued succession. In response to this volatile situation, the king sent York to Brussels until the political atmosphere calmed.6

The removal of both Danby and York from the center of government meant that two of the strongest advocates of the royal prerogative and the African Company were unable to influence imperial policy. They were also no longer in a position to protect their allies in the colonies. For example, Governor Sir William Stapleton of the Leeward Islands, a Catholic, became the subject of a witch hunt in the wake of the Popish Plot revelations. The merchant William Freeman, Stapleton’s friend and agent in London, warned the governor of a campaign instigated by Sir Charles Wheeler, Stapleton’s disgraced predecessor, to have him removed from office by taking advantage of popular anti-Catholic sentiment. After York departed for Brussels, Freeman feared for Stapleton’s position because “The mindes of the peaple generally [are] disturbed, and extreamly vigorous in prosecution of all Roman Catholicks.” Although Stapleton, like his patron, ultimately survived the crisis, Exclusion had exposed underlying vulnerabilities in imperial governance and administration.⁷

The Exclusion Crisis affected imperial administration in other ways. In April 1679, the king created a new Privy Council and Lords of Trade, and in an attempt to neutralize the opposition he reappointed Shaftesbury to the Lords of Trade and as Lord President of the Privy Council. Shaftesbury remained an outspoken opponent of the court, however, and ultimately his appointment lasted only seven months. But in the wake of heightened political anxiety triggered by the crisis, colonial governors were under intense pressure to provide imperial authorities with the information they demanded. In early 1680, the Lords of Trade issued orders to the governors and councils of Barbados, Jamaica, the Leeward Islands, and Virginia to “transmit unto us quarterly … a particular account and Journal of all matters of Importance,” including transcriptions of debates in colonial councils and assemblies “upon the framing and Passing of Laws.”⁸ In addition to reprimanding Governor Atkins, they ordered the governor to conduct a census to learn about not only the colony’s population, but property holding, tax rates, and trade. Information was deemed necessary to head off potential rebellion at a time of massive political unrest.

York’s exile and the regular attacks on the prerogative also significantly weakened the African Company. In April 1679, the House of Commons created a committee to investigate “miscarriages” on the part of ships leased from the Royal Navy by the Company in pursuit of interlopers off the coast of Africa. In May, this committee received orders to investigate the company’s books and charter, and in response the company drew up a petition defending its monopoly. The petition was read in the Commons on May 27, but later that day the king prorogued Parliament, which was eventually dissolved. Although the company was safe for the time being, its directors maintained the committee should this campaign resume. In fact, during the Exclusion Crisis many worried for the African Company’s existence. In late October 1680, William Blathwayt admitted that the company was “never in a worse condition to defend themselves than at present. The D. [of York] being absent, the Parliament sitting where the patent is like to be questioned, and there being petitions against [the company] from other plantations.”9

In response to this hostile environment, the African Company published a pamphlet entitled Certain Considerations Relating to the Royal African Company of England. This was the first publication directly commissioned by the company since 1667. It asserted that its monopoly and joint-stock structure were essential to make sure profits made it to England. “Trade and Commerce cannot be maintained or increased without Government, Order, and regular Discipline;” the author(s) maintained, “for in all confused Traffique it must necessarily happen, that while every single Person pursues his own particular Interest, the Publique is deserted by All, and consequently must fall to Ruine.” The position of the African Company had not changed since its inception. Monopoly was essential to protect English interests against those of other nations. A joint-stock structure was necessary to help pay for the “constant maintaining of Forts upon the place [Africa], and Ships of warre to protect the ships of Trade.” And because of the company’s trade, “A great increase is made to His Majesties Revenue, and to the Wealth of this Nation.” By promoting the slave trade to the colonies, the pamphlet continued, the company “hinders the exhausting this Nation of its natural born subjects.”¹⁰ With this remarkable statement, this pamphlet directly answered concerns raised by the critics of empire outlined in previous chapters. Because of the slave trade, English colonies did not drain the home country of much-needed laborers. Like colonial planters, the African Company promoted the idea that slavery and the slave trade contributed to the economic well-being of the entire realm. But the company’s vision of a commercial, exploitative empire was driven by monopoly and the royal prerogative. During the Exclusion Crisis, however, publishing pamphlets seemed the only method the company had to assert its authority.

Relations with the Caribbean colonies were also affected by Exclusion. Governors like Atkins, who appeared to be losing control over those they had been sent to govern, were especially worrisome at this time of political uncertainty. While Atkins initially had the support of the planters and assembly, he found himself politically isolated after he began seizing interloping ships on behalf of the African Company. In retaliation, the assembly refused to pass an excise tax on “strong liquors” in 1680. Deputy Governor John Witham, a staunch Royalist and supporter of the African Company, offered William Blathwayt his opinion that the men of the assembly were “of phanatick principles, many of them are become interested in the interloping trade against ye Royal Company’s charter.”11 As far as Witham was concerned, these “phanatick principles” went beyond simply ignoring the Crown’s commercial laws and regulations. Such language was deliberately provocative in the summer of 1680. Witham would have been well aware of the political upheaval in Britain and probably knew that describing the recalcitrant assembly as “phanatick” would be alarming to imperial authorities. During the Exclusion Crisis, such principles represented the severest contempt of the king’s prerogative authority.

Eventually, Atkins ordered his officers to begin collecting information for the census as he had been commanded, but by the time the information arrived in London in the summer of 1680, it was too late. Already suspicious of any information conveyed by the governor, the Lords of Trade refused to believe the data was reliable, and that summer Atkins was recalled. In a letter to the governor of Jamaica in July 1680, Blathwayt provided some indication as to what led to Atkins’s dismissal. “There is no reason given why Sir J. Atkins is recalled, more than that he has been in the government six years. But the dissatisfaction of the committee have always expressed at his returns and manner of correspondency [and] the continual complaints of the African Company against him may be considered as ingredients to this resolution.” Blathwayt concluded, “This I mention in the greatest confidence to your Lordship, and not as reasons publicly alleged against him.”¹² Although by 1680 the African Company lacked the political influence it had once enjoyed, Atkins had clearly taken a step too far. Imperial authorities had to be sure that those sent to govern the colonies did all they could to defend the Crown against attacks on the prerogative, especially during a serious political crisis.

The trouble Atkins caused the African Company was clearly a factor in the governor’s recall. One might ask why it took so long for Atkins to lose his appointment, considering the serious nature of the complaints against him over the course of six years. It has been suggested that Atkins remained in office as long as he did because the members of the Lords of Trade were preoccupied with the upheavals of the Popish Plot and Exclusion Crisis.¹³ The problem with this analysis is that it interprets the Exclusion Crisis as solely a domestic problem, in isolation from larger imperial concerns and conflicts. But to understand colonial administration as separate from domestic affairs, especially during times of political crisis, is a fundamental misreading of the political climate of late-seventeenth-century England. Attacks on the king’s prerogative and sovereignty were serious threats to the entire foundation of the monarchy, whether they came from Westminster or Barbados. This still begs the question of why Atkins lasted as long as he did as governor. His close relationship with Secretary of State Henry Coventry no doubt helped his longevity of tenure. But by early 1680 Coventry had retired and was no longer in a position to protect or defend Atkins. Shortly after Coventry’s departure, Atkins’s removal, already long suspected, became a certainty.

JAMAICA’S CONSTITUTIONAL EMERGENCY AND THE ROYAL AFRICAN COMPANY

The new governor of Jamaica, the Earl of Carlisle, left England in the spring of 1678, a few short months before the revelations of the Popish Plot rocked the country. As soon as he arrived in Jamaica that summer, Carlisle confronted significant opposition from the council and assembly to the new plans for the colony’s constitution, outlined in the previous chapter. Carlisle blamed notions of popular sovereignty and consent that seemed to plague the colonists’ minds. “Popular discourse prevails here as well as in England,” Carlisle tellingly reported to Coventry, “and I find a few men’s notions have taken such place that the leading men of the Assembly rather set themselves to frame arguments against the present constitution, then to accommodate things under it.”14 The assembly urged the governor to explain to the king that the new arrangement was “absolutely impracticable” and would “not onely tend to the great discouragement of the present planters, but likewise put a very fatal stop to any further prosecution of the improvement of this place.” They continued, “There being nothing that invites people more to settle and remove their families & stockes into this remote place of the world” than “the assurance they have always had of being Governed in the same manner, soe that none of their natural rights should be lost, as long as they were within the dominions of the Kingdome of England.” In defending their position, the Jamaican colonists emphasized their Englishness and right to be governed by English laws, a refrain familiar to scholars of colonial American history. The planters saw themselves as contributing to the economic, political, and military well-being of the entire realm and understood Jamaica to be an integral part of the empire, if not an extension of England itself. They believed the new constitution interfered with those rights and inserted an arbitrary and unnatural divide between the colony and metropolis.15

Unstated in this assertion of “English liberties,” of course, was the fact that Jamaica’s prosperity increasingly depended upon the forced labor of enslaved Africans. The colonists’ role as good Englishmen who created revenue for the imperial economy, with all of the liberties and privileges that implied, depended upon a brutal slave regime built on racial difference. Slavery and the slave trade, as both the colonists and the Crown realized, were in the process of becoming defining features of Jamaica’s society and of England’s transatlantic empire. Jamaicans had adopted Barbados’s oppressive slave code in the 1660s, and in 1684 would develop their own slave law, which was instrumental in contributing to the development of equating blackness with slavery throughout the colonies. Large plantations were becoming important elements of Jamaican society, and planters demanded ever-increasing numbers of slaves. Richard Dunn has calculated that from 1671 to 1684, the number of plantations on Jamaica increased from 146 to 690. He has also estimated that between 1660 and 1680, the slave population in Jamaica grew from approximately 500 to about 15,000, an increase of thirty times. The demand was practically insatiable.¹⁶

In the debate over the new constitutional arrangement for Jamaica, it became clear that both colonists and the English government recognized the importance of slavery to their local and transatlantic economies. What remained a matter of debate was whether or not English laws and liberties extended to the colonies and whether the slave trade should be controlled by a state-sponsored monopoly. The conflict revealed competing opinions regarding how the empire should function. For the company and Crown, the empire could only serve its real purpose through colonial subordination and reliance on the home country. In contrast, those with colonial interests articulated a vision of empire based on mutual dependence and benefit and saw colonies as political as well as economic and cultural extensions of England.

Carlisle, realizing he was fighting a losing battle, chose to strike a deal with the colonists: if the assembly passed a temporary revenue bill, he would make sure their case was heard in England. The assembly and council agreed. Anticipating a cool reception in London, Carlisle attempted to justify the assembly’s objections, or rather his failure to contain them. “My Lords, I find that the present form appointed for the making and passing of laws considering the distance of the place is very impracticable, besides very distasteful to the sense of the people here.” After dissolving the assembly, Carlisle asked for orders to call a new one, “to re-enact and make what laws are fit for this place.”¹⁷

In spite of the apparent distractions of the Popish Plot and the growing movement for Exclusion, the Lords of Trade began an investigation into Jamaican affairs as soon as they learned of Jamaica’s recalcitrance in the spring of 1679.18 In May they issued a report outlining the “unreasonableness” of the assembly’s objections. “It is not to be doubted but the Assembly have endeavour’d to grasp all power as well as that of a deliberative voice in making laws,” it continued, “but how far they have thereby entrenched upon your Majesty’s prerogative & exceeded the bounds of duty & loyalty.” The king’s authority over militias, revenue extraction, not to mention all constitutional and legal matters in the colonies, was absolute and unquestionable. The Lords of Trade understood that the Jamaican case had broader implications, as they informed the king that “your Majesty’s resolutions in this are like to be the measures of respect & obedience to your Royal Commands in other colonies.”¹⁹ After all, as Blathwayt informed Carlisle, “the rebellion of Virginia was occasioned by the excessive power of the Assembly.” The Lords of Trade were determined not to have another Bacon’s Rebellion on their hands and felt the new laws were necessary to prevent further colonial recalcitrance. They ordered Carlisle to call a new assembly, and if he failed to persuade its members to accept the new constitution, the government would revert to martial law.²⁰

Throughout 1679, the Jamaican assembly continued to block the new constitution. Leaders of the assembly, according to Carlisle, were influenced by events in England. “Now I heare they have purposes in this affaire to address the Commons of England,” he informed Coventry, “who, ‘tis reported here, were about making an act to punish any levying of money but by consent of Parliament, whether they may include the Plantations I know not.” For a colonial assembly to petition Parliament rather than the king or the Lords of Trade in such a serious matter of imperial governance, as Carlisle had suggested might happen, would have been interpreted as dangerously novel. News of the political turmoil in England had reached Jamaica at least as early as February 1679, and it appeared to Carlisle that the assembly’s leaders hoped to take advantage of the perceived weakness of the royal prerogative at home.²¹ With Parliament asserting itself in England, the Jamaican assembly felt it could do the same.

But the assembly never petitioned Parliament about the new laws. Instead, the colonists took aim at the commercial embodiment of the prerogative in the colony, the Royal African Company. Led by Chief Justice Samuel Long and Speaker of the Assembly William Beeston, the assembly and council petitioned the Duke of York in October 1679.²² They asked him to persuade the company “to furnish this island annually with a plentiful supply of Negroes at moderate rates, whereby his Majesty’s customs will be considerably encreased, and accordingly the country exceedingly strengthened and improved.” Petitions like this were not unusual; the duke and the company were regularly lobbied by planters for better supplies and lower prices. But the issuance of such a petition at the height of a crisis that ostensibly had to do with the political relationship between Jamaica and England underscored the central place the company had in Jamaican society and that slavery had in the imperial economy. For the planters, a steady supply of African slaves made their plantations function and made Jamaica valuable to the empire. It was therefore in the Crown’s interest, they argued, to enable them to have access to large numbers of slaves at low prices. According to the petitioners, through its monopoly, the African Company hindered the colony’s prosperity and threatened to obstruct the economic health of the empire. This point was driven home by this and numerous other petitions that asked for opening access to the slave trade.23

It made sense that this petition would come from the principal politicians and planters of the island during the constitutional crisis. During the 1670s and 1680s, the majority of those purchasing slaves were Jamaica’s “leading men,” such as assembly and council members and other office holders. The assembly’s complaints against the African Company amid the constitutional crisis demonstrated that for the colonists, economic concerns were intimately tied to legal, political, and military ones. In fact, the Jamaican assembly did not consider the new constitution or the new militia or revenue bills during the fall 1679 session until after this petition had been issued.²⁴ The new laws codifying a more clearly delineated relationship to the Crown, alongside the company’s monopoly and political influence, were understood by the planters as creating an artificial divide between colony and metropolis. For the colonists, this resulted in hindering their liberties and Jamaica’s economic prosperity. With the prerogative under attack in England, the time probably seemed appropriate to go after the commercial arm of the prerogative in the Caribbean. The petition to York at this particular moment illustrates the important role the African Company played in the commercial, political, and military life of the colony.

This appeal from Jamaica, and the entire constitutional crisis, came at a particularly anxious time for the company and the English government, with York in exile and much of the country in political turmoil. As Exclusion came to a head in late 1679, Blathwayt fired off a letter to Carlisle asking why the assembly had “left His Majesty but a small share of the sovereignty and may as well question that which remaines.” This language was reminiscent of Tory anti-Exclusionist propaganda used to defend the succession and the king’s prerogative. In other words, the Jamaican situation, which certainly would have been troubling to the government at any time, had particular resonance because of when it occurred. The Lords of Trade, and especially its secretary, took the case extremely seriously. In the short term, Carlisle had Long and Beeston, the men who had orchestrated the petition, arrested and sent to England to face charges of treason. The following spring, worried for his reputation, Carlisle left for London to explain his position and failure to follow orders.25

The constitutional standoff between Crown and colony continued throughout 1680. The Privy Council and Lords of Trade, in the midst of Exclusion turmoil, wanted to be reassured of the legality of the king’s actions in Jamaica. They asked the opinion of the attorney and solicitor generals, who in turn asked the opinion of the chief justices. Unfortunately the justices’ legal opinions do not survive. What is known is that over the course of the summer and fall of 1680, the Lords of Trade seemed increasingly unsure of themselves. In a series of hearings held in September and October, in the presence of Carlisle, Long, and Beeston, the Lords of Trade made it clear they were willing to drop the new constitution so long as the assembly passed a revenue bill for at least seven years. Historians have interpreted this willingness to abandon the new laws as possible proof that the opinion of the chief justices was not favorable to the Crown.²⁶ This is certainly a plausible explanation. What makes this turn of events all the more interesting, however, is that in addition to discarding the new constitution, the Lords of Trade were willing to go further and respond to new demands on the part of Jamaica’s planters present in London.

Despite the emerging constitutional compromise, on November 4 the “gentlemen of Jamaica,” including Long and Beeston, issued another petition to the Lords of Trade. It asked for three things: “An assurance to continue [the government] under what is now settled,” increased support for “discouraging privateers and pirates,” and finally, improved “regulation of the negro trade.” The bulk of the petition concerned the third issue. The petition criticized how the African Company’s managers conducted business, accused the company of “unreasonable and unconscionable dealing,” and condemned the company as a tool of the imperial government. “The authority, interest and power the said Company hath,” the petition read, “is a general oppression and grievance unto his Majesty’s subjects at home and abroad.” The company’s monopoly, it claimed, was “a hindrance of the increase of his Majesty’s dominions and of shipping and navigation and lessen[s] his customs and revenues.” In contrast, “the planters of Jamaica have laid out six times more than the said Company’s stock in settling the said island, and that it is by their industry, labour, and pains, brought to what it now is.” It concluded, “we humbly offer this expedient to your Lordships that the trade of Guiney may be left open and free or under such a regulation in a national joint stock whereunto any of his Majesty’s subjects may at any time be admitted to trade.” The company “neither by their valour, counsel, nor estates have added anything to the increase, support and maintenance of any of his Majesty’s Dominions.”27

The language of this petition, like that of the assembly’s plea to Carlisle in October 1678, revealed more than a simple disagreement over commercial policies. It illustrated how planters in Jamaica viewed the empire and their place within it. According to their position, the colonies were integral parts of England’s imperial economy and as such should be allowed to flourish. To the planters, a more-open slave trade was essential for promoting Jamaica’s prosperity and therefore the economic well-being of the entire realm. The company’s monopoly, on the other hand, “put[s] his Majesty to great expences by frigats to protect their trade to the ruine and diminishing his Customs, trade and navigation.” But “each Negro at work in the colonies produceth to his Majesty 10s (and most affirm 15s) per ann custom.”²⁸ What emerges from this petition is not only the continued rhetoric of “English liberties” by the colonists, but the striking paradox of the increasing importance of African slavery to the early English empire. Planters argued they were good subjects because their plantations added revenue to the Crown. That revenue, however, was totally dependent on imported forced labor that the African Company’s monopoly seemed to hinder rather than promote. The planters and their allies, including privateers and independent merchants, wanted to preserve the flexible relationship between Crown and colony while at the same time loosen restrictions on the slave trade. This remained central to their vision of a mutually dependent empire subject to English laws and legal traditions.

In late 1680, the Lords of Trade never seriously considered abolishing the African Company’s joint-stock structure or monopoly. But, as the petitioners had hoped, the committee did use the opportunity to speed up negotiations by appealing to what the planters seemed to care the most about, the company’s place in the slave trade. The Crown had already agreed to drop the new constitutional arrangement in exchange for a revenue bill. On November 11, a week after this petition was issued and the same day the second Exclusion Bill passed the Commons, the Lords of Trade ordered the company to “take care to send 3000 merchantable Negroes yearly to Jamaica, provided they have good payments of their debts collected there, and that they do afford merchantable Negroes to the inhabitants of that island at £18 p head.” The company was later ordered “that they be not overhasty in calling in their debts, especially from such as are not in a present capacity of paying them without breaking up their plantations.”²⁹ After years of expensive and potentially dangerous transatlantic conflict, the Lords of Trade were not only prepared for political compromise but were willing to use the African Company, the commercial arm of the royal prerogative in the West Indies, as a bargaining chip in the process.

After nearly two decades of almost constant confrontation, and with the very real threat of civil war and rebellion at home and in the colonies, the government capitulated on what the planters seemed to care about the most: the steady supply of African slaves. By giving the planters what they wanted, it was hoped that Jamaica would once again peacefully send revenue to the Crown. And the African Company was hardly in a position to block the compromise in 1680. In fact the most important factor influencing the shape of the compromise was how the Exclusion Crisis had damaged both York and the company. York was not only its governor and principal financial and political advocate, but the company’s entire existence was based on its royally granted charter. Royal charters were steeped in the politics of the prerogative, a concept under sustained attack by a significant portion of the political nation for the better part of three years. The fall of 1680 session of Parliament, which occurred while the hearings on Jamaica took place, was particularly traumatic for the king, his brother, and the company. Throughout the session, the Commons regularly held heated debates over issues of sovereignty, the royal prerogative, and York’s religion and, according to one man’s opinion, generally ran “high against the Duke of Yorke.” The king once again sent York to Scotland, leaving the company vulnerable during its governor’s noticeable absence.30

In late 1680, the king and the Lords of Trade were wary of fanning the flames of anti-prerogative politics and were unwilling to risk rebellion or civil war anywhere in the empire.³¹ During the Exclusion Crisis, the government simply did not have the manpower, money, or overall legal support to compel sweeping constitutional changes in Jamaica, and it offered the African Company as part of the sacrifice in order to maintain stability and a cash flow at a time of crisis. It also indicated a major recognition on the part of the Crown of the importance of slavery in Jamaica, and an embracing of a plantation future for the colony. It provided an indication that the Crown could use access to slaves as a means to manage colonial governance. By backing away from the new constitution and keeping planters happy with a guaranteed price for slaves, it was hoped that the African Company could cultivate its business with fewer interruptions, that the assembly would be more compliant, and that the Crown could peacefully collect the colony’s revenue. The compromise not only indicated a realization that extending prerogative authority at a time of grave political instability was unwise, if not impossible, but was a recognition that promoting access to slaves could ease colonial reluctance to accept imperial directives. The deal with Jamaica in 1680, while not eliminating the company’s monopoly, indicated a growing awareness on the part of the government that the prime way to keep West Indies planters content, and therefore loyal and quiet, was to provide them easier access to the market in slaves. Although the Crown retreated on a central tenet of its imperial policy, it did not represent an abandonment of the underlying ideologies that supported such a policy, as the coming decade would prove.

THE TORY ASCENDANCY AND THE YORKIST IMPERIAL AGENDA

The final years of Charles’s reign have traditionally been labeled the “Tory Reaction,” when Whigs were purged from political office and Crown policies became inextricably linked to Tory political ideology. Although there was hardly a “Tory consensus,” in terms of imperial administration, the Tory Reaction is better described as a Tory Ascendancy, which lasted through the reign of James II (1685–1688). After the prorogation of the final Exclusion Parliament in March 1681, Charles II and his closest advisers wanted to reassert royal authority and emphasize the importance of obedience to the Crown. This meant removing Whigs from positions of power in order to make sure their ideas about popular sovereignty and limiting the prerogative never again became ascendant.32 The most ambitious design that aimed to undermine the perceived Whig threat to stability was the quo warranto campaign, which began in earnest in 1683. This initiative forced corporate bodies, including a number of cities and towns, to prove “by what warrant” they existed, and in doing so, were forced to surrender their charters to the king. He was then able to issue a new charter, with new and more politically compliant corporate members. The quo warranto campaign extended to colonial charters, including a successful movement against the charter of Massachusetts Bay in 1684 and all colonial charters by 1686. In addition, the king and his council decided that calling another Parliament in England would be counterproductive to maintaining order and stability. Improvements in the collection of customs revenue, including from colonial trade, enabled Charles to maintain financial independence and rule without Parliament for the remainder of his reign.³³

After the Exclusion Crisis passed, the Crown once again enjoyed the unfettered ability to attempt to reap the economic and diplomatic benefits of its empire. The Lords of Trade and the Privy Council, for example, continued to gather as much information as they could about the colonies and their laws by requiring governors to report regularly on all aspects of colonial government. The Lords of Trade experienced many personnel changes in the wake of the Exclusion Crisis, as a number of members passed away, retired, or were dismissed. By the time of James II’s reign, the Lords of Trade was made up almost entirely of reliable Tory servants to the Crown. In 1686, the committee included such men as Lord Chief Justice George Jeffreys; Robert Spencer, Earl of Sunderland, a close associate of James’s and a strong advocate of prerogative politics; James Butler, Duke of Ormonde, the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland; John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave, a loyal Tory servant on the Privy Council; John Ernle, a treasury commissioner who would later refuse to recognize the removal of James II from the throne in the Glorious Revolution; and Sir Edward Herbert, Earl of Portland, who was exiled with James after the Glorious Revolution.34 All were firmly committed to James and his imperial program of consolidation and centralization.

Despite this membership, the Lords of Trade’s overall importance as an administrative body diminished over the course of the 1680s. Instead, partisan bureaucrats assumed greater influence and power. The career of the committee’s chief secretary, William Blathwayt, exemplified this transformation. Significantly, Blathwayt was given a patent in May 1680 to act as auditor general of the colonies with the power to collect and review all colonial revenue. Customs collectors in the colonies, created through the 1673 Plantations Act, sent revenue directly to Blathwayt, some of which served as his salary. The patent granted him the authority to appoint his own deputies to collect revenue on his behalf. This gave Blathwayt a tremendous amount of power as governors, officers, and customs collectors deferred to his judgment in important affairs and depended upon his assistance when problems arose. Traditionally, Blathwayt has been described as a Royalist motivated by self-interest and greed and a desire to promote the authority of the Crown over colonial affairs. There is no doubt of Blathwayt’s aspiration to accumulate personal wealth by serving in as many administrative offices as possible, as well as his royalist (and eventually Tory) political affinities during the 1680s.³⁵ It is significant that Blathwayt’s rise to prominence coincided with the Tory Ascendancy, as partisan administrators became reliable servants to the Stuart government. Others such as Sir Edmund Andros, governor of the new Dominion of New England, and Lord Howard of Effingham, governor of Virginia, would also rise to the occasion as loyal servants during James II’s reign.

The extent and direction of James II’s “imperial vision” has been hotly debated by scholars. Did James, who was removed from the throne during the Glorious Revolution because of his “absolutist” tendencies, apply his autocratic inclinations to imperial affairs? Some historians have argued that James had always been an imperialist, emphasizing that he played a central role since at least the mid-1670s in shaping imperial designs and policies as governor of the African Company, an active member of the Lords of Trade, and a strong promoter of imperial interests. Others have taken a more cautious approach. While acknowledging James’s interest in the African Companies and colonial expansion, they have downplayed his role in formulating any centralized imperial policy, noting his frequent absences from Lords of Trade meetings and apparent lack of interest in governing his own proprietary colony of New York. But James, especially by the 1680s, played a significant role in shaping a variety of imperial designs. Through his unwavering belief in the royal prerogative, James had a clear imperial agenda, even if its implementation was haphazard and in many ways incomplete. Nevertheless, the overall thrust of his designs indicated a pattern of centralization and control and ran parallel to his plans to consolidate government in Britain.36

The creation of the Dominion of New England is perhaps the most concrete example of how James hoped the empire would be governed. In late 1684, in the wake of the quo warranto campaign against the charter of Massachusetts Bay, York was instrumental in creating the Dominion, which consolidated Massachusetts Bay, Maine, and New Hampshire into one administrative unit. Plymouth, Rhode Island, and Connecticut were added the following year, and in 1688 the royal colonies of New York and New Jersey joined. But before the structure of the Dominion could be implemented, the Privy Council, including James, held a number of discussions on how colonies ought to be governed. As scholars have noted, the contours of this debate and the origins of the Dominion were deeply rooted in the politics of the Tory Reaction. The primary question under consideration was whether or not the Dominion should have a representative assembly. The Privy Council, and especially James, felt it should not, and wanted the governor to rule in consultation with a governing council but no elected assembly. In addition to refusing to allow an assembly in the Dominion at this time, James rejected the continuation of New York’s infant legislative body. This distrust of representative institutions as hindering the power of the royal prerogative guided James’s imperial designs.³⁷

In addition to limiting colonial autonomy, James II and his allies on the Lords of Trade set about overhauling the duties on colonial agricultural goods. In the spring of 1685, the House of Commons confirmed the new king’s plans for increasing the export duties on colonial produce, especially on tobacco and sugar, duties that were notoriously hated by colonial planters.³⁸ James II and his advisers also discussed the possibility of creating a Dominion of the West Indies. In addition, in early 1688, a group of promoters urged the creation of a West Indies or “South Sea” Company, created by the king’s prerogative as a means to consolidate the sugar trade. A formal proposal was made in March 1688 for a company with £500,000 of stock that would establish a “Common Factory” in each of the West Indies colonies, to which planters would have to deliver all colonial produce. In exchange for the exclusive right to purchase sugar, the company would grant planters “credit for three quarters of the valew of all Goods coming into ye Hands of a Common Factory” in order for the planters to purchase the goods they needed. All sugar delivered to the common factories would then be sent to England for refining and resale, thus eliminating the need for export duties or enforcing the cumbersome Navigation Acts. This would also guarantee permanent revenue for the Crown because the company would take responsibility for all customs duties. One anonymous promoter of the scheme appealed to James’s anti-Dutch sentiments and argued that it would greatly undermine the Dutch sugar-refining industry. Most important, the company would limit the possibility of a revolt among colonial planters because it would “unite the militia of each several island for the assistance & defence of the whole, [and] will make a descent upon any troublesome neighbour in those parts, secret, speedy, & successful without any charge to the Crown.” Significantly, this promoter suggested that the entire scheme could be enacted “without any reach of law or assistance of Act of Parliament.” Like the Dominion of the West Indies, the scheme for a West Indies Company never came to fruition. But the plan and the serious consideration it received reflected the imperial outlook of the king through its anti-Dutch, monopolistic, and militaristic approach to imperial governance and trade.39

Although James and his allies supported an anti-Dutch agenda, they remained relatively neutral when it came to the Spanish in the New World. James did not consider the Spanish to be a serious threat to English interests in the Caribbean. If anything, the Spanish were to be exploited and taken advantage of because of their perceived wealth, not to mention their military and political weaknesses. The anonymous promoter of the West Indies Company described the Spanish as having “laid aside all thoughts of enlarging dominion, or aggrandizing their monarchy.” Similarly, William Blathwayt indicated in some private notes in 1685 that it was in “His Majesty’s interest to hinder any other nation but the Spaniards to thrive or plant in the West Indies, especially in such places where they may be able to annoy either us or them.” The Spanish, unlike the Dutch or the French, were acceptable because “they being already subservient to the court of Trade to the English Nation who reap the profit of their hazards & labour, without any expence to the Crown.”⁴⁰ In other words, because of privateering, smuggling, and the African Company’s efforts to sell slaves to Spanish merchants, England was able to siphon wealth away from Spain with little effort.

THE AFRICAN COMPANY AND THE TORY ASCENDANCY

Not surprisingly, the African Company’s influence also transformed during the Tory Ascendancy. The company was once more at the center of imperial affairs, especially after York returned to England in the spring of 1682. It became increasingly commercially successful by continuing to improve its market share relative to both Dutch traders and English interlopers. During the 1680s, the company doubled its capacity to deliver slaves to the English West Indies. According to David Eltis, from 1672 to 1679 the company delivered approximately 22,012 slaves to Jamaica, Barbados, and the Leeward Islands, or about 56 percent of the overall total of 39,289. From 1680 to 1688, the company delivered about 53,663 slaves, or roughly 66 percent of the overall total of 81,039. The company was also an extremely profitable investment opportunity and regularly paid high dividends to its investors during the 1680s.41

Significantly, the African Company’s power to seize slaves purchased from interlopers increased dramatically during the 1680s. As we have already seen, colonial governors were usually given clear instructions that it was within the company’s power to seize interloping ships and cargoes after they had landed. What remained unclear, however, was whether or not it was legal to confiscate slaves acquired from interlopers after they had already been purchased. To many planters, because slaves were considered chattel, this seemed to be a violation of property rights. Governor William Stapleton of the Leeward Islands asked for advice with one such case in 1680, in which swords were drawn to prevent colonial officers from seizing slaves that had already been purchased from interlopers. Two years later the governor of Jamaica, Sir Thomas Lynch, wrote about an interloping ship that had landed and within twenty-four hours sold its cargo of slaves. The African Company’s factors refused to try to seize the slaves, because they “fear Judges and Jurys will not allow seisures after they are put on shore, marked and property changed.” Blathwayt referred this case to the attorney general, Sir Robert Sawyer, who gave his opinion that illegal property “may be seized wherever found whilst they remain in specie. Negros, being admitted as Merchandise, will fall within the same Law.”⁴² Not only did this confirm and expand the African Company’s power to seize slaves purchased illegally, but it illustrated how the law had transformed regarding the status of slaves. Now according to English law, and not just colonial laws, slaves officially became movable property.

The African Company’s ability to seize and prosecute interloping cargoes was also helped tremendously by a decision issued by the justices of the King’s Bench in January 1685. The case of East India Company v. Sandys involved a private merchant, Thomas Sandys, whose ship had been confiscated by the East India Company while still in the Thames in late 1682.⁴³ The company’s lawyers claimed that Sandys’s attempt to trade in India without a license not only was a violation of its charter but that it threatened the public service performed by the company in conducting trade to the East Indies. Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys and a unanimous court agreed and firmly established the supreme authority of the royal prerogative over foreign trade, discovery, and conquest. “The kings of England have exercised this their prerogative in all ages,” Jeffreys concluded, “and as the king has the power of restraint of the foreign trade, so he is only judge when it is proper to use that power.” Jeffreys’s opinion codified the king’s right to use his prerogative authority over all imperial, commercial, and military affairs. This decision provided legal justification for both the East India and the Royal African Companies to pursue interlopers with impunity, and in light of the decision the African Company requested that colonial governors be reminded of their duty to prosecute interlopers to the fullest extent of the law. The governors of Barbados, the Leeward Islands, and Jamaica shortly received orders that interlopers, or those abetting interlopers, should “bee severely punished by Fine, Imprisonment & such other penaltys as the quality of their offence may require.”44

In the aftermath of Exclusion, the African Company tried to chip away at the terms of the compromise over the price of slaves sold in Jamaica. This was a delicate issue for Sir Thomas Lynch, who had been reappointed governor in 1681. He found himself once again having to negotiate with the powerful planters in the assembly as well as the company and its interests. At first, because he had been sent with strict orders to settle the issue of revenue once and for all, he attempted to curry favor with the men of the assembly.⁴⁵ In his opening speech in September 1682, he assured them, “I know of no designe to injure you, or invade your just liberties,” and presented himself as a peacemaker sent to calm “those passions that have soe long agitated you.” In return for such reassurances, the assembly passed a seven-year revenue bill. It helped Lynch that he was not an outsider to the island, and the planters and privateers of the assembly, however much they disliked the imperial government’s intentions, trusted him as a known quantity. It also helped that by the time Lynch arrived, the compromise on the price and number of slaves sent by the African Company had been in place for over a year.⁴⁶ Underscoring the act’s importance to Jamaican planters, after passing the revenue bill, the assembly and council thanked the king for his “Grace and Justice in Assimulating our Government to that of our Native Country of England, [and] for your Majesties favour in ordering us supplies of Negroes at reasonable rates.” This letter illustrated how the colonists understood the quid pro quo of empire: in order for the Crown to secure steady revenue, it had to be willing to compromise on certain issues. As Lynch told the assembly, it was in the king’s interest to make sure Jamaica prospered, “for Colonyes that doe not thrive, are like scabs, they render nothing to, But draw Nourishment from the Body.” With the most powerful planters happy on the issue of the slave trade, the greater the chances were that they would not interfere with imperial governance or revenue collection.47

During the Tory Ascendancy, however, the company lost no time trying to dismantle the compromise. In January 1683 the company requested the revocation of the original order. Considering the amount of debt owed by the colony’s planters, the diminishing value of Spanish currency used in the West Indies, the falling price of sugar, and the persistence of interlopers off the West African coast, no one could expect the company to sell slaves at such low prices. The company’s directors also pressed the Lords of Trade to “set aside” the law. The resurgence of the African Company at the center of imperial affairs was underscored when Blathwayt warned Lynch “my opinion upon all these proceedings [is] that the islanders should keep themselves well in ye opinion of the Council in reference to the Company and live upon terms of moderation and civility.”⁴⁸ Blathwayt’s letter indicated that political rhetoric attacking the company and its interests that characterized the Exclusion era would no longer be tolerated.

Lynch thought the “Negro Act” would be settled relatively quickly, but the issue dragged on for years. The African Company even appeared to be deliberately siphoning its trade away from Jamaica, “thinking that price [of £18] be too small.” This frustrated Lynch, who wondered why the company disregarded Jamaica when he did everything he could to promote its interests.⁴⁹ “This sufficiently amazes me, since I have done (and you know it) all in my power to oblige them,” he wrote to Blathwayt in the summer of 1683. “I cannot bet what this means, unless they would set up a commonwealth in a monarchy.” Indeed, the company’s influence seemed stronger than ever. After another round of petitions, the Lords of Trade suggested that the price of £18 be abandoned, but ordered the company “to furnish the island with five thousand Negroes within the first year and with three thousand yearly afterwards.” Included in the new concession was language allowing company officials to impose a £5 fine for each slave purchased illegally, confirming the powers outlined by Attorney General Sawyer in early 1683. The following spring, the company managed to do away with some of the new requirements and reduced its obligations from five thousand slaves in the first year to three thousand slaves per year. A draft of an act containing this new compromise was sent to the Jamaican assembly and council for passage in the summer of 1684.⁵⁰

Lynch strongly supported the new proposal because he felt that such large numbers of slaves would allow the asiento trade to flourish in Jamaica. Despite the company’s desire to cultivate this trade, Lynch’s position brought him and his colony into further conflict with the company, because Lynch was willing to utilize slaves purchased from either the company or private traders to keep the trade afloat. When he first returned to Jamaica in 1682, he noted that although interlopers “may choque the charter or hurt the Royal Company,” their actions did not hurt “the King’s Customs or Nation’s trade, for every Negro’s labour that produces cotton, sugar, or indigo is worth £20 p ann to the customs, [and] four times as much in cocoa if it stands and keeps its value. Nor is it possible to hinder the Importation [from interlopers], for the Island is large and slaves are as needfull to a Plantation as money to a Courtier, and as much coveted.” But the company seemed unable or unwilling to tap into this growing market.51 Not everyone in Jamaica wished to promote the asiento, however. Sir Henry Morgan and his privateering friends, who had long been wary of maintaining peaceful trade with the Spanish, actively tried to obstruct the trade. Although Morgan had been the darling of the Stuart court when he returned to Jamaica in 1675, he was removed from office in 1681 for continuing his anti-Spanish policies. In 1684, Morgan and his lawyer Roger Elletson persuaded two men to seize a Dutch-Spanish ship that had acquired a cargo of slaves at Jamaica. Lynch intervened and ordered the royal frigate assigned to the colony to help escort the foreign ship out of Port Royal’s harbor. As a result of the vigilante justice by these “beggarly vagabonds,” Lynch claimed the Spanish captain was now reluctant to return and the colony would lose out on this lucrative trade.⁵²

Lynch died shortly after this incident, leaving his lieutenant governor, Sir Hender Molesworth, to deal with the consequences. Lynch had named Molesworth to office in 1683 as a way to counterbalance the “privateer interest” on the island. Molesworth had been the African Company’s agent in Jamaica for many years and, like Lynch, was personally invested in the asiento, which he called “so considerable a trade” that benefited “the whole Kingdom of England.” He did his best to suppress pirates and privateers who continued to plunder Spanish ships and ports and had to deal with further incidents of Jamaicans seizing Spanish ships without authorization.⁵³ According to Molesworth, English colonists were sometimes assisted in their efforts to thwart the trade by a former proprietor of the asiento who refused to recognize the new holder of the contract. According to Molesworth, this factor, named Santiago de Castillo, was “ye greatest enemy ye Assiento hath, [and] joynes with the disaffected to that trade (who are ye same in ye Gov’t), discovering ye very secrets of it to give them ye better opportunityes of throwing all ye discouragements they can upon it.” Although Molesworth did not directly accuse Morgan and his cronies of conspiring with Castillo, the implication became clear when in the same letter he reminded imperial authorities that Morgan and his allies were “great enemyes to ye Spanish Trade.”⁵⁴

Molesworth also had to deal with the significant social and political consequences of Jamaica’s ongoing transition to a slave society. He had avoided calling an assembly for two years after Lynch’s death and only called one to meet in June 1686 in the wake of a slave revolt that had broken out the previous summer. Immediately after the uprising began, Molesworth declared martial law and organized militias to suppress the rebellion, but this policy failed, as the slaves escaped into the island’s dense interior and joined with communities of former slaves, known as Maroons. The militias had to be paid, and Molesworth asked the legislators to approve compensation. But the assembly refused to vote for any new taxes. “They must be willfully blind,” Molesworth raged, “if they can be led away by false pretences against the common good.”55 This refusal to tax themselves represented the planters’ imperial agenda at its most extreme: despite an ongoing slave uprising and the deaths of dozens of people, they were unwilling to pay to suppress the rebellion. The implication was that the Crown should pay for the colony’s safety and security. The men of the Jamaica Assembly, both planters and privateers (and many of course were both), wanted all of the benefits of slave owning and maintaining mastery over slaves without paying for any of the consequences. They were willing to put their own lives in danger for the sake of profit. The episode revealed the vulnerability inherent for planters in a slave society and their need for assistance from the government to support white supremacy. Eventually, the assembly agreed in principle that the hired soldiers needed to be paid, and it proposed “an Imposition upon Negros exported” from the colony to pay the charges. What this effectively meant was a tax on the asiento trade. Molesworth knew the Crown and the African Company would never support such a move, and neither could he. He thought the tax was designed by “a party made of ye discontented” to bring the asiento “under such discouragement, as must necessarily have driven it from us.” After a scathing speech in which he described the actions of the legislature as a “confused medly of Contradictions,” Molesworth dissolved the assembly. In the meantime, word reached Jamaica that the new king had appointed Christopher Monck, the second Duke of Albemarle, to be the new governor-general of Jamaica.⁵⁶

POLITICAL DIVISIVENESS DURING THE TORY ASCENDANCY

Although the end of the Exclusion Crisis signaled a triumph of Tory ideology and the political strengthening of the Crown, it did not mean the end of political division and partisanship. A divisive atmosphere continued to shape political debate throughout the 1680s. This was true both in the colonies and the metropolis, as governors, planters, military officers, merchants, and privateers utilized highly politicized categories and labels to describe themselves and their enemies. Although the African Company enjoyed significant power and influence over imperial affairs in London, it continued to be subject to criticism and ridicule from many colonial constituencies. Such politically charged language had real meaning at a time when many felt that another civil war had only just been narrowly averted. In 1681 the new governor of Barbados quickly became involved in a war of words with those he had been sent to govern. Sir Richard Dutton, another outsider governor, was handpicked by the Duke of York in an attempt to break the “plantocracy’s” hold on power in the aftermath of Atkin’s tenure. He attempted to govern with a heavy hand and to impose the resurgent Stuart imperial agenda of centralized control and colonial obedience. He quickly established himself in opposition to the island’s powerful planters in the council and assembly. Upon Dutton’s arrival, the assembly refused to pass a tax on liquor imported into the island, leaving the colony without funds to pay its debts or operate law courts or jails. This had serious consequences not only in terms of public safety but politically as well. In a letter to Sir Leoline Jenkins (a staunch Tory who replaced Coventry as secretary of state for the southern department in 1680), Dutton reported that the men of the assembly “thought Monarchy was upon its last legs in England, and I am confident they were preparing to set up here for a Commonwealth as early as any of the plantations should do, and it is my great unhappiness that I am here but a single person to resist such traitorous designes.” Dutton further lamented to Blathwayt that “Rebellious Spirits in England and their traitorous libels influence the people here to be too inquisitive and busying themselves too much in state affairs.”57

Dutton’s rhetoric in describing his political adversaries was significant. In characterizing the Barbados Assembly with such loaded terms as “Commonwealth” and “traitorous designes,” Dutton positioned himself as a defender of the Crown and the royal prerogative. Such words and their connotations were especially resonant in the aftermath of the Exclusion Crisis, when “Rebellious Spirits” and “traitorous libels” had threatened to throw the country into civil war. These words were an ideological code that created an “other,” in this case, a dangerous political enemy. As Tim Harris has argued, the use of such political language reflected the partisanship of the age and “became everyday currency to describe the competing factions that existed in both the metropolis and in the localities.” This ideological code extended to the colonies. Dutton’s use of exaggerated terminology was intended to draw a stark contrast between himself and the disloyal colonists. Such insinuations about the political atmosphere in Barbados were indeed alarming back in England. Atkins, after all, had been removed not only for his administrative negligence, but for encouraging such “Commonwealth” principles among the planters in the assembly. Similarly, Dutton’s deputy governor, Sir John Witham, complained about the political orientation of those he had been sent to govern. Witham wrote that “there be in this Colony many factious, seditious & ill affected persons, who are tainted with the old leaven and humours of ‘41, these, as well as many of ye Fanaticks, have at times, been very troublesom in this Government.” The only way he could keep the “Fanaticks” under control, Witham claimed, was with the threat of legal action. In part because of his adept use of this political vocabulary, imperial authorities were confident in Dutton’s ability to keep the planters of Barbados under control. Blathwayt urged Dutton to explain to the assembly that its obstinacy was not appreciated in light of the failure of Exclusion. “Those of Barbados shall be informed,” Blathwayt noted, “of the great change in affairs here, that loyalty receives its due countenance, and sedition its punishment.” The king, he continued, “resolves to govern by law so he will lose no part of his Royal Prerogative.” After months of wrangling over the excise, in January 1682 Dutton dissolved the assembly and purged the colony’s commission of the peace of two of its five judges.58

Barbados was not the only colony where divisive political rhetoric became commonplace during the 1680s. Sir Thomas Lynch in Jamaica was also subject to a fair amount of political mudslinging. In large part this stemmed from his poor relationship with the old privateer Sir Henry Morgan and his cronies, who disliked Lynch’s desire to promote the asiento. During the fall 1683 session of the assembly, Lynch managed to persuade the legislature to approve a new revenue bill, this time for twenty-one years. He also convinced the assembly to not petition the king with grievances about the African Company and the slave trade. Lynch’s enemies, foremost among them Morgan, seized upon this and orchestrated rumors that the governor had been “bribed & partial to the R. Company.” Lynch, who was frustrated with the company’s inability to provide Jamaica with enough slaves to satisfy both local planters as well as Spanish merchants, vehemently denied the charge. Lynch then removed Morgan, Morgan’s brother-in-law Robert Byndloss, and Morgan’s son Charles from the colony’s council. In explaining his actions to the Lords of Trade, Lynch described the political divisiveness that seemed to pervade Jamaican society. “[Sir Henry] and C. Morgan set up a particular Club,” Lynch explained, “frequented only by 5 or 6 more, & here (especially when drunk) the Dissenters were cursed & Damned, & the whole Island provoked, & reflected on, by their assuming the name of the Loyal Club, & people began to take notice, that it looked as if hee designed to be thought Head of the Toryees, consequently I must be so of the Whiggs.” Similar to Barbados, political labels had significant meaning in Jamaica as a kind of ideological code. In this case, Morgan and his privateering comrades presented themselves as loyal to the Crown by embracing the term “Tory” and labeling their political enemies “Whigs.” Morgan portrayed the governor as a disloyal servant who threatened political order and stability. Such labels indicated how perceptions of ideological identity traveled beyond the confines of Westminster.59

Sometimes such political volatility spilled over into violence. The governor of the Leeward Islands, Sir William Stapleton, had survived the Whig onslaught against him during the Exclusion Crisis stemming from his Catholicism. But once the African Company’s position became more politically secure, Stapleton faced a barrage of accusations that he inadequately protected the company’s interests. In part, the company’s campaign against Stapleton stemmed from a lack of a satisfactory resolution in the case of James Starkey, a company employee killed in an altercation involving illegal traders in Nevis in 1679. Stapleton immediately called a grand jury, and during the investigation it became apparent that many colonial officials in Nevis had been involved in protecting interlopers. The following summer the Nevis Admiralty Court issued indictments to four men for inciting a riot, and to another three for murder. In all but one case, the court issued an ignoramus verdict for lack of evidence, and in the sole case that went to trial, the defendant was found not guilty.⁶⁰ The colony’s Admiralty Court judges, made up of planters and merchants who had little sympathy for the company, were unwilling to find in the company’s favor, even when it involved the death of an employee.

Starkey’s death highlighted the extremes colonial merchants and planters were willing to go to over the issues of forced labor and commercial regulation. It also underscored the violence that seemed endemic to the Leeward Islands, a frontier colony that was poor, poorly populated, and badly served by imperial authorities, including the African Company. The company, in fact, did not consider the Leeward Islands to be a significant market for slaves.⁶¹ Such isolation bred resentment that often spilled over into violence. In fact, the Nevis assembly speaker, Philip Lee, one of the officials suspected of aiding interlopers, was involved in another altercation with the company’s agents in June 1680, one month prior to the trial for Starkey’s murder.⁶² Further prosecution in this and the Starkey case, however, awaited the resurgence of the African Company’s ability to exert its political influence in the aftermath of the Exclusion Crisis.

Stapleton’s troubles were exacerbated by another brutal episode involving company agents and private merchants in June 1682. That month, an interloping ship was seized by Captain Christopher Billop, the commander of the king’s ship Deptford, at Nevis. An altercation ensued, resulting in the death of one of the interlopers. Instead of turning the cargo of slaves and “African commoditys” over to the company’s agents or to the colony’s Admiralty Court, Billop and his crew seized the slaves and sold more than half for their own profit. Billop argued that because he and his crew had intercepted the cargo they were entitled to the proceeds. Stapleton had Billop court-martialed before the Admiralty Court, which prosecuted the captain and labeled him “one of the worst men that ever wee saw in the King’s service.” This outcome did not immediately satisfy the Crown or the company, however, because Billop was technically acting in the king’s service. Billop escaped and made his way to London, where he appeared before the High Court of Admiralty and managed to convince them that Stapleton had illegally seized the Deptford from its rightful commander and encouraged interlopers.63

Stapleton soon found himself to be the target of the company’s campaign against governors it deemed unfriendly to its interests. His agent in London, the merchant William Freeman, directly pleaded with the Duke of York regarding Stapleton’s good character and intentions, and Blathwayt also spoke to York on Stapleton’s behalf. Eventually, Stapleton’s pleas and the appeals of Freeman and Blathwayt had an effect, and the Crown agreed to intervene and determined that Billop’s accusations held no merit. But the case was significant because all sides claimed to be acting on behalf of the African Company, the king, and the royal prerogative. The episode demonstrated that even those governors who did not directly act against the interests of the company could be subject to its censure during the Tory Ascendancy.⁶⁴

IMPERIAL TRIUMVIRS: STEDE, JOHNSON, AND ALBEMARLE

By James II’s reign, all three of the English Caribbean colonies had governors selected for their support of prerogative authority in the colonies at the expense of local autonomy. In a move that indicated the African Company’s resurgent influence over imperial affairs, Edwin Stede, the long-serving company agent in Barbados, became lieutenant governor of the most profitable slave colony in the English empire. Stede was a reliable Tory bureaucrat who understood his role in imperial administration: promoting the Crown’s interests, especially the African Company, while maintaining deference to imperial authorities. His brief governorship, which almost exactly coincided with James II’s reign, was the clearest representation of the king’s imperial ideal. While governing Barbados, Stede retained his position as the company’s chief factor on the island, and remained collector of the customs. He cracked down on interloping, which made him vulnerable to harassment. He relied on his friendship with Blathwayt for protection from “slanderers or backbiters, of which the world is too full, but will rest satisfied in your kind care of mee, hopeing you will be pleased timely to give mee notice of such persons and things that I may be the better able to assist in matters of my defense.” Stede remained steadfast, however, in his dedication to James II and the African Company. After the Glorious Revolution, Stede “hoped that the throne of the King may be re-established, and the succession of the crown may be continued in the right line.”65 Not surprisingly, Stede’s days were numbered after the Glorious Revolution; in the spring of 1689 he was replaced by a Barbados native and army officer, Sir James Kendall.

After Sir William Stapleton’s death in 1686, a close ally of the king, Sir Nathaniel Johnson, was named governor-general of the Leeward Islands. Johnson had been a loyal servant to the king as a collector of the hearth tax, a linchpin of both Charles II’s and James II’s domestic agenda. As an outsider to the colony with a military background, Johnson was well positioned to keep the planters and merchants in line while at the same time maintaining peace and security with other European powers in the region. He was known for his steadfast support of James and his pro-French foreign policy, much to the consternation of the Leeward Islands colonists, who had lived in fear of French attacks for decades. Johnson was the first West Indies governor to be given instructions empowering him to punish and prosecute private merchants violating the African Company’s monopoly. Despite Johnson’s own inclinations to help the company, interloping remained a serious problem, as planters and merchants not only regularly purchased slaves from English interlopers but from Dutch slave traders as well, who frequently came to the islands to sell slaves in exchange for English colonial produce. It was bad enough that colonists obtained slaves illegally, but it was far worse that they purchased slaves from the Dutch, long the focus of James II’s ideological animosity. As Johnson noted, “by the Trade of English Interlopers the company are principally the sufferers, but by what Trade of that or any other kind is with the Dutch, His Maty also is a sharer in the loss, it occasioning the conveyance of our sugars and other produce to their Islands.” The Lords of Trade ordered Johnson “not to permitt any Dutch merchant ship or vessell whatsoever to come unto any of his Matys Islands under your Government,” except in cases of emergency or distress. The Privy Council similarly reminded the governor of his orders to punish all interlopers “severely.”⁶⁶ In order for the English to succeed in dominating the slave trade, the ability of the Dutch to trade in the Caribbean had to be curtailed.

In addition to the persistence of interloping, the African Company’s factors in the colony discovered that a number of high-placed officials directly profited from the illegal trade. The deputy governor of Nevis, Sir James Russell, was singled out for flagrantly ignoring the king’s orders to seize interlopers because of his business dealings with Dutch merchants. Two members of the council of Saint Christopher were also accused of protecting interloping and removed from office. In order to better ensure compliance with the king’s orders and agenda, Johnson decided a general purge of government offices was necessary. This ran parallel to a similar strategy in Britain orchestrated by James II, who wanted to maintain “ideological purity” among the judiciary and in local offices. In early 1688, Johnson launched a major investigation into the state of the colony’s laws, courts, and government, and uncovered a distressing lack of uniformity “not onely in the different Islands but in the severall divisions or precincts of each particular colony.” He took the opportunity to remove judges, council members, and other officials, and also attempted to alter land titles and patents in favor of quitrents for the king. In the midst of this turmoil came the news of the departure of James II in the Glorious Revolution. Johnson refused to recognize the revolution or the new monarchs and went even further and allowed a band of Irish Catholic servants on Saint Christopher to join the French and rebel against their English masters in 1689. Although he did eventually proclaim William and Mary in the Leeward Islands, shortly thereafter Johnson departed the colony with one hundred slaves and headed for the Carolina colony.67

Like the appointments of Stede and Johnson, the selection of the Duke of Albemarle as governor of Jamaica represented the realization of James II’s imperial agenda in the West Indies. He was the son of George Monck, the first Duke of Albemarle, who had been instrumental in orchestrating the Restoration and had served Charles II for many years. The second duke, however, was a much less reliable royal servant than his father. Although he was Lord Lieutenant of Wiltshire, Albemarle failed to act decisively to suppress Monmouth’s Rebellion in the summer of 1685, which contributed to a reputation for laziness. As a result, some historians have argued that James sent Albemarle to Jamaica to be rid of an irresponsible troublemaker.⁶⁸ But the selection of a duke to a colonial governorship was remarkable and indicated to some that the king had aspirations to consolidate the West Indies colonies under one powerful governor or viceroy, much like Sir Edmund Andros in the Dominion of New England.⁶⁹ Although plans to make Albemarle viceroy did not come to fruition, he was granted extensive executive powers, including the authority to suspend any council member, as well as the ability to administer an oath of allegiance to anyone he felt required it. As “Lieutenant General and General Governor of our Island of Jamaica,” Albemarle had the authority to command “our forces within any of our Islands and Plantations in America where you shall pass or remain during your personal Residence within respective Island or Plantation.” Before arriving in Jamaica, in fact, Albemarle stopped at Barbados and the Leeward Islands, inspected their militias, and consulted with officers and governors. Contrary to contemporary opinion, however, Albemarle did not have the power to declare war or muster other colonies’ forces on his own. Albemarle was also ordered to help promote the asiento by ensuring that Spanish merchants in Jamaica “bee civilly treated and receive all fitting encouragement,” and by halting any taxes the assembly might place on slaves reexported to foreign traders.70 Albemarle’s instructions reflected the three main pillars of James II’s imperial designs in the West Indies: promoting prerogative authority, military supremacy, and the commercial and diplomatic interests of the African Company.

Armed with these extensive powers, Albemarle arrived in Jamaica in December 1687. He quickly formed a political alliance with Sir Henry Morgan and his buccaneering faction, including his avaricious lawyer Roger Elletson. Allying with Morgan and his cronies was more than just a pragmatic political move for an outsider governor like Albemarle; it appears that the duke had planned to orchestrate the alliance long before he arrived. In October 1686, a full year before he left England, Albemarle requested that Morgan and his brother-in-law Colonel Robert Byndloss be reinstated to the colony’s council. The governor’s decision to collaborate with Morgan seemed to be part of a larger plan to sponsor treasure-hunting voyages to salvage Spanish shipwrecks laden with bullion. This is where his alliance with Morgan and the buccaneers came in handy, both as experienced plunderers (or sponsors of plundering expeditions), and as longtime enemies of the Spanish. Of particular interest was a massive shipwreck off the coast of Hispaniola. Men from Jamaica, Barbados, the Leeward Islands, and Bermuda had been diving for treasure there months before Albemarle arrived. Treasure hunting for shipwrecks had the support of the king, who stood to gain from the ventures. The king gave Albemarle a patent, which granted the duke exclusive rights to all proceeds from the Hispaniola wreck after the king’s “tenths and fifteenths,” or guaranteed percentages of profit, had been delivered.⁷¹ Although the Spanish disliked the idea of the English Crown profiting from their shipwrecks, the desire to salvage such wrecks did not represent the abandonment of James II’s position regarding the Spanish in the New World. It was another way to siphon wealth away from Spain to England’s benefit. Albemarle intended to grow rich as governor of Jamaica and had the blessing of his patron the king.

Albemarle’s patent, not surprisingly, brought him into conflict with many political factions in Jamaica, most notably Molesworth and his merchant allies who were wary of annoying the Spanish and discouraging the asiento. Molesworth learned of Albemarle’s patent before the new governor arrived, and he ordered all ships “fishing” at the Hispaniola wreck to return to Jamaica and forbade any further expeditions. Albemarle, however, did not trust Molesworth and soon after arriving demanded an account of all proceeds from the wreck. The duke was desperate for money, not only to line his own pockets but to cover the costs of the salvage operations, which owing to the patent belonged solely to him. For example, before allowing Molesworth to leave for England with the king’s “tenths,” Albemarle squeezed nearly £15,000 from the former governor. This still did not satisfy the duke’s needs. In June 1688 he issued a proclamation forbidding anyone from “fishing” at the wreck without his permission and indicated to the Lords of Trade that because of the “vast expence in maintaining the ships and sloopes that will now be Imployd” in the operation, he hoped to get authorization to seek other wrecks to plunder. In a further desperate quest for funds, Albemarle ordered his attorney general to investigate private account books to see what colonists owed the king from “Quit Rents, fines, and forfeitures.”72

In addition to fighting Molesworth on the issue of the shipwreck, Albemarle also actively opposed the asiento trade. Rather than stopping private individuals from seizing Spanish merchant ships that came into Port Royal as Molesworth had done, Albemarle turned a blind eye to this kind of vigilantism. This did not sit well with the African Company, whose directors grew increasingly disappointed with the duke. The company was especially displeased with an act the governor signed in the spring, which increased the value of the Spanish piece of eight, the main currency on the island, from five to six shillings. This had the effect of diminishing the value of debts on the island, and the company, one of the largest creditors in the colony, protested.⁷³ For the time being, however, the act stood.

As a result of his avarice, Albemarle’s tenure as governor was marked by almost constant upheaval and factional strife, which in large part stemmed from his alliance with Morgan and Elletson. Within a few months of his arrival, Albemarle began purging members of the council as well as assistant judges from the colony’s courts in order to place his and Morgan’s cronies in office. When he attempted to name Elletson as chief justice, he faced a minor revolt from men who were unwilling to serve with him as assistant justices. Albemarle removed them from the council and proceeded to fill the judiciary with judges of his own choosing. He later removed John White from the council for being too closely connected to a major Spanish merchant resident in Port Royal. In May 1688 Albemarle suspended Attorney General Symon Musgrave and Provost Marshal Smith Kelly and replaced them with Sir Richard Derham and Thomas Waite, also allies of Morgan’s. These purges not only alienated Albemarle from the governing classes in Jamaica but also raised the ire of the African Company, which especially disliked Waite’s appointment, calling him “an indigent man” prone to “deale dishonestly” and against their interests. Like Johnson’s purges of the judiciary in the Leeward Islands, Albemarle’s actions ran parallel to those of his patron, James II in England.74

Albemarle’s desire to remove enemies from government affected lawmaking as well. The assembly that met in the spring of 1688 was highly contentious, owing to the governor’s purge of the council and courts. After dissolving the assembly, whose “private heats [were] growing more intolerable,” Albemarle called new elections for July. Rather than let the polls run their course, however, the governor and his allies interfered to ensure their political enemies did not win reelection. In the parish of Clarendon to the west of Port Royal, this resulted in a near riot when Waite, the provost marshal, attempted to close the poll early and declare the winner Albemarle wanted. The new assembly met on July 20, 1688, packed with men loyal to Albemarle, and in a major coup, the governor secured the selection of Morgan’s lawyer, Roger Elletson, as speaker. Not surprisingly, Albemarle reported that this assembly, filled with his cronies, “finished more business in two weeks they have sat than the last did in two months.”⁷⁵

Imperial authorities had already grown concerned about events in Jamaica even before word reached London of the irregular elections and accusations of political intimidation by the governor. Molesworth arrived in England in the summer of 1688 and informed the King-in-Council of the problems he had had with Albemarle. They also received complaints from the former deputy provost marshal that Elletson, Waite, and their associates had charged excessive fines and fees and falsely accused him of using seditious language. Imperial authorities were already aware of the African Company’s many complaints against Albemarle and his administration. In addition, the King-in-Council had to reprimand the duke for obstructing the activities of the naval captain Sir Robert Holmes and his deputy in the region, Stephen Lynch, who had been charged with hunting pirates on behalf of the English Crown. Albemarle did not live long enough to experience the repercussions of these grievances, however. In October 1688, upon learning of the birth of the Prince of Wales earlier that summer, Albemarle, well known for his penchant for heavy drinking, in celebration drank himself to death. In the wake of Albemarle’s death, the King-in-Council received a petition from some Jamaica merchants and planters resident in London, requesting that the king restore all men whom Albemarle had removed and the nullification of all laws passed during his governorship. In one of his last acts as king, James II ordered the removal of Elletson, Derham, and Waite from office and restored those who had been purged by Albemarle.⁷⁶

CONCLUSION

The story of the Royal African Company and its confrontations with colonial governors, planters, and private merchants provides some insight into the nature of Stuart imperialism as it evolved over three decades. These conflicts demonstrated how important slavery and the transatlantic slave trade had become not only to the Caribbean colonies but to the English empire by the 1680s. During this decade, the power and influence of the company became a key component of Stuart policies of imperial control and consolidation. Colonial governors and assemblies who attempted to thwart the company’s monopoly were seen to be in contempt of the king’s sovereignty and the royal prerogative. The ruling in East India Company v. Sandys made it clear that royally granted corporate charters were extensions of the Crown and its authority. Undermining essential imperial policies would have opened the floodgates of rebellion as far as the Stuarts, the Lords of Trade, and the company were concerned. It is hardly surprising that much of the apprehension over the relationship of colonial governments to the Crown coincided with the uncertainty and upheaval of the Exclusion Crisis and its aftermath. The last thing the governments of Charles II or James II wanted was faraway colonies governed by men who openly questioned their policies or authority. As a result, the later Stuarts were interested not only in consolidating imperial administration, but in selecting servants and bureaucrats who would promote their interests. At the same time, the Crown learned that the best way to appease planters, and make colonial governance easier, was to occasionally compromise over the issue of the supply of slaves to the colonies.

The Tory Ascendancy could only last as long as its primary architect remained in power, however. In October 1688, James II warned colonial governors, “We have received undoubted advice, that a great and sudden invasion from Holland with an armed force of foreigners and strangers will speedily be made in a hostile manner upon this our Kingdom.” He ordered governors to prepare for similar attacks in the colonies and “to hinder any landing or invasion that may be intended.” News concerning the major events of the Glorious Revolution, from William of Orange’s landing at Torbay in November 1688 to James II’s flight to France that December, reached the colonies in subsequent months.77 The following chapter examines the new regime’s imperial agenda and how it dealt with affairs in the West Indies in relation to war and the slave trade. By the 1690s, the English government began to embrace slavery and the slave trade as tools of imperial management and governance, something learned in the previous decade.