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James II

Six Places That Appear on the Back of a Quarter

From 1999 through 2008, the 50 State Quarter program released commemorative quarters with unique designs for each state. Half of all Americans collected them at least casually, making it the most successful commemorative coin program ever.

The U.S. mint released five each year, one quarter every 10 weeks. They came out in the same order that the states ratified the Constitution. In New England, that order meant Connecticut went first, then Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Vermont and Maine.

Rules governed the choice of design. No live person, no state flag and no head-and-shoulder image of a dead person.

Each New England state responded with an image that you can visit today.

Here, then, are the six New England places that appear on the backs of quarters.

Charter Oak Tree

Connecticut State Quarter

King Charles II in 1662 granted Connecticut a charter that allowed it to elect some of its own officials and make some of its own rules.

Charles’ successor, James II tried to combine the New England colonies with New York under a single Crown-appointed official, Edmund Andros. It didn’t go well.

The Charter Oak by Charles DeWolf Brownell, 1857

In 1687, Andros and 60 soldiers met with the leaders of the Connecticut Colony in Hartford and heatedly insisted they turn over the charter. The colonists just as heatedly refused to give him the document, which lay on a table before them.

According to legend, something — a gust of wind, perhaps — blew out the candles that lit the meetinghouse. In the confusion, the charter disappeared. Someone hid it in the hollow of a large white oak tree, where the king’s men couldn’t find it.

The oak, of course, became the revered Charter Oak and a symbol of American independence. Already more than 300 years old in 1687, the Charter Oak fell to a violent storm on Aug. 21, 1856.

The Dominion of New England fell well before that. Andros dissolved the colonial governments, including Connecticut’s even without the charter. Two years later in 1689 Massachusetts colonists sent Andros packing. James II lost power, the charter came out of hiding and the colonies reverted to their previous form of government.

The Charter Oak still exists – as chairs in the Old Connecticut Statehouse and as artifacts currently on display at the Connecticut Historical Society.

On the corner of Charter Oak Avenue and Charter Oak Place stands a column with a globe and a descendant of the original tree. There may be as many as 100 such trees, as people had collected acorns before it fell. The Simsbury Historical Society, for example, planted a descendant of the Charter Oak in 1976 to commemorate the nation’s bicentennial.

A portrait of the Charter Oak, framed in wood from the tree itself, hangs in the Wadsworth Athenaeum in Hartford.

Pemaquid Point Lighthouse

Maine State Quarter

Maine chose to honor its maritime heritage with an image of a windjammer sailing by Pemaquid Point Lighthouse on the back of its quarter.

President John Quincy Adams in 1827 commissioned Pemaquid Point Light in Bristol, Maine, about 60 miles north of Portland. The original lighthouse didn’t last long as builders mixed saltwater with the mortar mix. It had to be replaced in 1835, and the contract specified the use of fresh water in construction.

A storied lighthouse keeper, Marcus Hanna

Pemaquid Point Lighthouse

, once staffed the lighthouse. He was the only person to ever receive a Medal of Honor for bravery during the Civil War and a Gold Lifesaving Medal for saving a life off Cape Elizabeth.

Today, the Bristol Parks and Recreation Department owns and operates the outbuildings surrounding the lighthouse as Pemaquid Point Lighthouse Park.

The vessel on the quarter is the Victory Chimes, a rare three-masted schooner. Moored in Rockland, Maine, the Victory Chimes sails up and down the coast on windjammer excursions.

Minute Man National Park

Massachusetts State Quarter

Massachusetts honors its historic role in the American Revolution by putting a famous statue of the Minute Man. The monument depicts a farmer who dropped his plow to fight at North Bridge in Concord, Mass., on April 19, 1775.

Today the statue stands guard at The Minuteman National Historical Park in Concord, where 500 militiamen defeated three companies of British troops.

The Minute Man

In 1873 an unknown, 23-year-old college dropout was given the commission to create a monument to the Minute Man.

The 100^th anniversary of the shot heard ‘round the world was approaching, and the citizens of Concord wanted to honor the farmers and tradesmen who battled professional British soldiers.

They decided to award the commission to Daniel Chester French, who had never executed a full-size statue. They had their reasons: His father was well-connected in town, and he had taken art lessons from Louisa May Alcott’s little sister, who vouched for his talent. French, of course, went on to design many famous works, including the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C.

The Old Man of the Mountain

New Hampshire State Quarter

Alas, New Hampshire just can’t let go of the Old Man of the Mountain, though the mountain did. He tumbled to the ground on May 3, 2003, but his image still appears on license plates, state highway signs and the New Hampshire state quarter.

The Old Man of the Mountain, back in the day

Before the Old Man went to his forever home, he was a series of five granite ledges hanging 1,200 feet above the floor of Franconia Notch. He measured 40 feet high from forehead to chin, and over the years he was held together by chains and patched up with cement, plastic, steel rods and turnbuckles.

At least he was already on the quarter when the U.S. Mint released it on Aug. 7, 2000.

For nearly 200 years, the Old Man of the Mountain attracted tourists and served as a proud symbol of New Hampshire.

New Hampshire native Daniel Webster perhaps best expressed what the Old Man meant to the state:

[U]p in the Mountains of New Hampshire, God Almighty has hung out a sign to show that there He makes men.

Claiborne Pell Newport Bridge

Rhode Island State Quarter

Watery Rhode Island chose to put the Claiborne Pell Newport Bridge, New England’s longest suspension bridge, on the back of its quarter. Since 1969 it has connected Newport with Jamestown. Today it costs 16 quarters to cross.

The Claiborne Pell Newport Bridge

On a clear day, you can see the bridge from Gay Head Light in Martha’s Vineyard, the top floors of Providence’s tallest buildings and the parking lot of Stone Hill Marketplace in Johnston, R.I., 23 miles away.

Claiborne Pell served 36 years in the U.S. Senate from Rhode Island, and sponsored the bill to grant financial aid to college students in the form of Pell grants.

The quarter also depicts a vintage sailboat, as Rhode Island is nicknamed the sailing capital of the world. The nation’s smallest state, it has 400 miles of coastline and 100 beaches.

Camels Hump Mountain

Vermont State Quarter

Maple sugar is to Vermont as sailing is to Rhode Island. Well, maybe skiing is a more appropriate analogy, but Vermont went with maple sugaring on the back of its quarter.

The back of the quarter also features the Camels Hump Mountain in northern Vermont. It’s one of the tallest mountains in Vermont, and its distinctive profile makes it Vermont’s most recognized mountain.

Camels Hump, one of a dozen of Vermont’s National Natural Landmarks

The Camels Hump has had no less than a dozen names since Samuel de Champlain sailed down the lake that bears his name. De Champlain called it ‘Le Lion Couchant,’ meaning ‘the Resting Lion.’ Ira Allen called it the ‘Camel’s Rump.’ The Abenaki Indians called it ‘tahwahbodeay wadso.’

A forest preserve encloses the mountain, the summit of which philanthropist Joseph Battell donated to the state in 1905. By 1912, the Green Mountain Club built a trail between the mountain and Sterling Pond. Today the trail is a high point on the Long Trail system. The Green Mountain Club now pays a caretaker to make sure hikers respect the mountain’s fragile alpine tundra.

Images: Claiborne Pell Bridge By UpstateNYer – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7548436; Pemaquid Point Lighthouse (featured image) By Tiger635 – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=31174599′ Pemaquid Point Lighthouse By WestportWiki – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21041474

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Six French Place Names in Six New England States

French place names reveal much about the history of a city or town. They reflect the great historical events that took place at the time residents settled on a name. They may have named their town when a popular king took the throne, or during the French struggle for liberty, or right after the American Revolution, or during westward expansion.

You’re far more likely to find French place names the closer you get to the border of Canada. Still, the number of French place names in New England doesn’t truly reflect the region’s French heritage.

Vermont, of course, comes from the French for ‘green mountain’ (vert mont), and 23.9 percent of its population claims French ancestry. But only about a dozen of the state’s 255 municipalities have a French place name.

Vermont is only the third most Franco-American state in the Union. New Hampshire comes in second. Maine, with 25 percent of its population claiming French ancestry, ranks No. 1. The state has two dozen towns with French place names, and the state Legislature once claimed (probably wrongly) that ‘Maine’ came from the French province of the same name.

Here, then, are six New England municipalities with French place names, one in each state. If you know of another with a story worth repeating, please share in the comments section.

Orange, Conn.

Orange Congregational Church

Orange, Conn., initially belonged to the Algonquian Indians until 1637, when they sold it to the Rev. Peter Prudden. The price? Some coats and blankets, hatchets and hoes, a kettle, knives and a dozen small mirrors.

Prudden, educated at Cambridge University in England, came to Massachusetts as part of the Great Puritan Migration. He preached in Wethersfield, Conn., for a while. Then he joined a group of New Haven Colony settlers in Milford and was ordained pastor of the church in 1639.

When Prudden died in 1656, his survivors buried him in his garden, which became the Milford town cemetery. His widow, Joanna Boyse Prudden, married the first English mayor of New York City.

William of Orange

Thirty years after Prudden died, the last Roman Catholic king of England, James II, consolidated the New England colonies. He appointed the hated Edmund Andros as governor general of the Dominion of New England. Andros tried to seize Connecticut’s charter, but failed because a militia captain hid it in a large white oak tree, known forever after as the Charter Oak.

In 1689, much to the joy and relief of New England’s Puritans, William of Orange deposed James II. The staunchly Protestant William, who had inherited the French principality of Orange from his father, was James’ son-in-law and nephew. The colonists sent Andros back to England.

The popular new king gave the village of Orange its name. It belonged to Milford until 1822, when residents formed the Town of Orange. In 1921, rural Orange separated from urban West Haven.

Orange Center Historic District includes 42 historically significant structures, including the Orange Congregational Church. They form a ‘cohesive village of well-preserved buildings and their surroundings that convey a strong sense of the area’s historic appearance,’ according to the National Register of Historic Places nomination form.

Meetinghouse Lane, Orange Center Road, Schoolhouse Land, Tyler City Road.

Calais, Maine

Acadians first settled the region on both sides of the St. John River, so it’s natural that Calais, Maine, and St. Stephen, New Brunswick, should have a close friendship. Calais has three international crossings over the St. Croix River to St. Stephen.

Calais from St. Stephen

So friendly were the two towns that the British military gave St. Stephen gunpowder to defend itself against Americans during the War of 1812. St. Stephen instead gave the gunpowder to Calais for its July 4^th celebration.

The townspeople named Calais for the French city in 1809 to honor France’s help to the American colonies during the Revolutionary War.

Calais Avenue about 1905

Calais didn’t really get going as a town until the 1820s, when shipbuilding and lumber brought growth and prosperity. Between 1810 and 1850, the town’s population grew tenfold, to 4,749. By 1840, Calais was the second busiest port in Maine next to Bangor. Many successful Calais businesspeople built fine homes in the city during its heyday.

The Calais Residential Historic District comprises 15 acres of handsome 19^th century homes in a variety of architectural styles.

Calais Residential Historic District: Calais Avenue and Main Street From Calais Avenue To Swan Street

Orleans, Mass.

the Duke of Orleans

Orleans, on Cape Cod’s elbow, has had its share of military assaults. The British captured the town twice during the American Revolution, and the Orleans militia skirmished with a British warship trying to dock at Rock Harbor during the War of 1812. And German U-boats shelled Orleans during World War I.

The town split off from Eastham in 1797, when memories of the British occupation still stung.

Isaac Snow, a descendant of Mayflower Pilgrim Stephen Hopkins, supposedly suggested the French place name for the new town. The British had captured Snow during the American Revolution and confined him aboard a prison ship in England. Snow then escaped to France, where he more than likely learned about the popular Louis Philippe Joseph, Duke of Orleans. The duke, though one of the richest men in France, supported the French revolutionary cause.

CG 36500

Isaac Snow’s family opened its first store in Orleans in 1887. The Snow family still runs Snow’s, where you can probably find whatever you need.

The town also harbors a motorboat listed on the National Register of Historic Places, CG36500, used in the courageous rescue of 31 Pendleton crewmembers in 1952.

CG 36500 is berthed at Rock Harbor n Rock Harbor Rd., Orleans, Mass.; Snow’s, 22 Main St., Orleans, Mass.

Fremont, N.H.

Fremont, N.H., took its French place name from the illegitimate son of a French-Canadian schoolteacher. John C. Fremont also happened to be a military hero and the Republican Party’s first candidate for president of the United States.

Fremont, N.H., meeting house

Fremont’s mother was the daughter of a wealthy Virginia planter. At 17 she married a well-to-do army major in his 60s. The major hired a Canadian immigrant, Charles Fremon, to tutor his young wife. They fell in love and ran away to Savannah, Ga., where John Fremon was born out of wedlock. The major refused to divorce John’s mother, so she could not marry his father.

When Charles Fremon died, John Fremont and his mother lived in poverty and disgrace. He compensated with pride and ambition.

During his lifetime he fought in the Mexican War, rose to the rank of major general, explored the West, gained and lost a fortune, served in the U.S. Senate from California and ran for president in 1856. He also met and married Jessie Benton, daughter of the powerful U.S. senator from Missouri, Thomas Hart Benton.

John Fremont

Benton earned immense popularity for his support of western expansion. In 1840, the town of Coventry, N.H., decided to change its name to Benton in honor of the senator. Fourteen years later, a town called Poplin, N.H., decided to change its name to Fremont after the future presidential candidate and senator’s son-in-law

Today the town takes justifiable pride in its 1800 Meetinghouse – and for being home to the stunningly awful all-girl group, The Shaggs.

Fremont Meeting House 464 Main Street , Fremont, N.H.

Lafayette Village, R.I.

When the Marquis de Lafayette made his triumphal tour of the United States in 1824, enthusiastic Rhode Islanders renamed a village in North Kingstown after him. Previously, people had given it a less glamorous name: the North Kingstown Cotton Factory.

Lafayette in 1825

Lafayette, though, remained little more than a French place name for a cotton mill, a smattering of houses and an unusually wide road. The road had been ordered by the Rhode Island colony in 1703 so farmers could bring their goods to the port of Wickford. The road had to be as straight as possible and 160 feet wide to allow grazing for livestock.

Today, the National Register of Historic Places lists Lafayette Village as a monument to Robert Rodman, a paternalistic textile manufacturer in the tradition of southern Rhode Island.

Rodman, a relative of the Hazard manufacturing family in nearby Peace Dale, began making wool textiles in Lafayette in the 1840s. He incorporated as the Rodman Manufacturing Co. in 1883 and employed 500 workers by 1900. The Rodman family still owned the company into the late 1940s, when it ceased operation.

One of the Rodman mansions in Lafayette. Google maps photo.

The company sold St. Nicolas Doeskin to growing markets in the south and west. In 1876, “one supposes a celebratory mood as Rodman packed his entire family, children and grandchildren off to the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, where the doeskin, a luxury fabric with nap, won a medal,” according to Lafayette Village’s nomination for the National Register of Historic Places.

Shortly after the Centennial, Rodman bought the engineering marvel of the day, a Corliss steam engine, to power his textile machinery. In 1877 he built the vast brick mill that still stands.

Rodman also built a mansion for himself (now a patio furniture store) and three more for his children, a church, boarding houses and workers cottages.

The paternalistic Rodmans stayed within the community, made up of local Yankees who in the 1970s remembered it as ‘one big family’ and ‘all English.’ The Rodmans sponsored the Lafayette Cornet Band, magic shows, games and pottery classes to entertain the mill workers – and, no doubt, to distract them from any union organizers who might be prowling around.

For more photos of Lafayette in the 1970s, click here.

Lafayette Historic District, Properties bordering Ten Rod Road from Wickford Junction to the culvert east of 935 Ten Rod Road and side streets, North Kingstown, R.I.

Barre, Vt.

Barre, Vt., took its name from an Irishman of French Huguenot ancestry who gave the Sons of Liberty their name.

Isaac Barre

Isaac Barre, the son of Dublin’s high sheriff, served the British Army with distinction before representing Chipping Wycombe in Parliament. He had a long, colorful parliamentary career, during which he vigorously opposed the taxation of the American colonies. While addressing Parliament, he coined the phrase ‘Sons of Liberty.’

During his military career, Barre fought at the Battle of Quebec and gathered around the dying general James Wolfe. John Gouldsbury, the earliest settler of Barre, also fought at the Battle of Quebec under Wolfe.

Until 1788, roving bands of Indians were the only inhabitants of the area described as ‘primeval forests, granite hills and green valleys.’ The first settlers named it Wildersborough, but the residents didn’t like it and the name didn’t stick.

According to one story, the settlement’s selectmen decided the person who contributed the most to a meeting house could rename the town. For 64 pounds, Ezekiel Wheeler got to name the town Barre.

Socialist Labor Hall

According to another story, two men from Massachusetts put forward their preferred names at a Town Meeting. Both Captain Joseph Thompson of Holden and Jonathon Sherman of Barre wanted to name it after their former towns. They decided to fight it out in a barn, and Sherman won.

Barre grew into a center of granite cutting shortly after the War of 1812. The work attracted a diverse group of European immigrants, including Italian anarchists and members of the International Workers of the World. In 1916 and in 1929 Barre residents elected a Socialist Party candidate as mayor.

The old Socialist Labor Party Hall still stands, listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2000.

Socialist Labor Party Hall, 46 Granite St., Barre City, Vt.

Images for French place names: Fremont Meeting House, By John Phelan – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24513389; Socialist Labor Hall By John Phelan – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=35779862; Calais By P199 – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18061218; Orange church By The original uploader was Staib at English Wikipedia – Transferred from en.wikipedia to Commons., CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=34580770

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Joseph Dudley and the Private Bank That Sank Him

Britain’s North American colonies in the 1600s found money a volatile topic. In a financial crisis, a currency shortage would freeze commerce. So Massachusetts routinely issued currency. But its exchange rate with gold fluctuated wildly. The result: inflation.

Pamphlet Highlighting the advantages of a private bank.

Merchants, who sold on credit to their customers, hated it when the government issued fresh batches of currency. Then someone who bought goods could pay for them later in devalued currency worth less than it was at the time of the sale.

Many in Massachusetts clamored for a private bank to begin issuing currency. They not only saw it as a way to stop inflation, but also to profit from lending.

Thus, the idea of a bank was proposed. Investors would put up money or land or other valuables for a share in the bank. The bank would issue its currency based on the deposits, then lend it and demand repayment on the set value it established.

Portrait believed to portray Joseph Dudley

Joseph Dudley

The opportunity for profit drew together a group of investors and supporters, including Joseph Dudley, then a powerful judge and president of the Council of New England. They put together a plan by which they would divide profits from the bank into 112 shares. One hundred shares would go to the investors and administrators who ran the bank. Twelve shares would be set aside for “friends” of the bank who put up no money or land, but would still receive profits.

Dudley was cagey about who these friends were, writing in a letter to one supporter: “Further speech about the matter I judge not convenient until we get further advanced and have received your direction to attend to a very good and large dividend of profit.”

Historians surmise Dudley intended the money to go to Royal Governor Sir Edmund Andros, much despised by colonists for his efforts to raise taxes and begin charging rent for land. Andros’ whole scheme collapsed by 1688, and the colonists sent Andros back to England after William of Orange overthrew King James II.

William of Orange

But the idea of a bank did not die. In 1714, a group of investors emerged again to try to revive the more-than-30-year-old idea. By this time, Dudley had risen to the rank of governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony.

Now, however, Dudley was on the other side of the push to establish a private bank. By the 1700s, the cost of ongoing war with the Native Americans was straining Massachusetts’ budget. The state issued currency to pay bills, watering down the value of existing money. Again, this currency depreciation worked to the advantage of borrowers who could repay their debts with devalued bills.

The Private Bank Returns

Property holders, however, taxed to support the government’s issuance of bills of credit, wanted change. This group of investors lobbied the Massachusetts General Court to consider a private bank once again. Heated debates arose over the merits of a private bank in pamphlets, newspapers and town meetings. Families and towns split over the question.

With Dudley now opposed, the General Court issued £50,000 more bills of credit and forbade anyone from starting a private bank without the monarchy’s permission.

By 1714 Dudley’s long career was drawing to a close. His commission expired after the death of Queen Anne that year. He first won reappointment as governor from King George I, but had it stripped away when his political enemies lobbied England to replace him.

Jeremiah Dummer, the colony’s agent in England, led the crusade to persuade King George to reappoint Dudley. But he failed, and the bank’s backers succeeded in getting a rather unsavory character named as governor: Elizeus Burges.

Burges had a history as a drunkard, womanizer and probably a murderer. But the bank advocates suspected they could bring him around to their side.

Dummer and Jonathan Belcher finally paid Burges £1,000 to give up the governorship, keeping the government in the hands of an anti-bank governor. Dummer and Belcher had a frayed relationship, but they agreed Burges was not fit to govern Massachusetts, and so they bribed him to decline the job.

For the private bank backers, the setback was painful. However, the idea of a private land bank, backed by land or other securities, would not go away. In 1740 a group of investors briefly launched such a bank, which operated until Parliament specifically outlawed it.

Thanks to: Currency and banking in the province of the Massachusetts-Bay by Andrew McFarland Davis and The Public Life of Joseph Dudley: A Study of the Colonial Policy of the Stuarts in New England, 1660-1715 by Everett Kimball. This story updated in 2022.

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Puritan Easter, or The Devil’s Holiday

John Winthrop famously wrote in his journal that the Arbella departed for the New World on Easter Monday – March 29, 1630. But the Puritan Easter would soon disappear from his records.

Portrait of John Winthrop, American Antiquarian Society. No Puritan Easter for him.

Upon arriving in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, Winthrop and his fellow Puritans took pains to avoid even mentioning the word “Easter.”

The Puritans wanted to abolish all references to pagan gods and popish rituals. The Bible didn’t mention holidays, they reasoned, so saints’ days and feast days were nothing more than Roman inventions.

“They for whom all days are holy can have no holiday,” they liked to say.

No Puritan Easter for Samuel Sewall either

Judge Samuel Sewall, the Puritan diarist born in 1652, once wrote in his journal that he’d been given an almanac. He crossed out all the papist holidays in the new book. “I blotted against Feb. 14, Valentine, March 25, Annunciation of the B. Virgin; April 24, Easter; Sept. 29, Michaelmas; Dec. 25 Christmas; and no more,” he wrote.

Puritan Easter

The early Puritans didn’t like Easter any more than they liked Christmas. They banned Christmas in 1659, fining anyone five shillings for celebrating the holiday. They ignored Easter, Whitsunday and other holidays. May Day celebrations, which included the hated Maypole, were punished severely.

The Puritans did loosen up one Anglican tradition. Unlike the Anglicans, they allowed marriage to take place during Lent. And they sometimes observed Fast Day on Good Friday.

Puritan Easter worship, without the ‘Easter.’

Easter posed a few problems, though. It always fell on a Sunday, and Puritan preachers weren’t sure what they should say in their sermons. The usual solution was to preach about something other than Easter.

They also couldn’t ignore Easter, because they determined Election Day by the Easter calendar. Election Day was actually one of the four important secular holidays the Puritans celebrated, along with Commencement Day, Thanksgiving and Training Day.

Puritans thought it unchristian to use the names of heathenish deities. For a while, they managed to abandon the word ‘Monday’ and all the rest of the days of the week, as well as the names of the months.

So Sunday, derived from the Teutonic name for its sun deity, Sonntag, became simply the first. Monday was the second, Tuesday the third, and so forth.

The Puritans also called the months by numbers, with March being the first and February the twelfth.

Eventually, the traditional names for days and months crept back into the Puritan vocabulary.

Devil on the March

Sir Edmond Andros, bigoted papist

The Puritans weren’t the only people living in Massachusetts Bay Colony. Anglicans, Huguenots and Catholics, for example, had also immigrated to the New World.

When King James II took the English throne, he consolidated the northeastern colonies. Then in 1686 he appointed Sir Edmund Andros governor of the Dominion of New England.

It wouldn’t end well. Neither James nor Andros were fans of the Puritans. And the Puritans considered Andros a “bigoted papist.”

When Andros came to Massachusetts, he restored the popish holidays, celebrated royal holidays and allowed a Maypole in Charlestown. Puritan minister Increase Mather was appalled. The devil had “begun his march of triumph,” he wrote.

The Puritans had forced Anglicans to hold services in the open air. Andros wrangled with the Puritan theocracy, and he insisted on holding Anglican services at Old South Meeting House. On Good Friday in 1687, he ordered the sexton to open the doors of Old South and ring the bell for ‘those of the Church of England.’ Whether Andros persuaded or coerced the sexton is not known, but the doors opened, the bell rang and the service went forward.

The Puritans could not forgive that particular affront. They revolted in 1689 and sent Andros packing back to England.

This story about Puritan Easter was updated in 2022.

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In 1685 Massachusetts Legalized Christmas, to Samuel Sewall’s Dismay

In 1685, a tolerant wind blew briefly through England when James II ascended to the throne. He ordered greater freedom for Roman Catholics and people of other faiths. In his colonies, he ordered the reform of discriminatory laws. Massachusetts legalized Christmas

Samuel Sewall was not pleased.

Samuel Sewall — Puritan, judge, businessman, printer — left voluminous diaries that document his undying dislike of the Christmas celebration. Puritans viewed the celebration as obnoxious and sacrilegious.

Samuel Sewall was not happy when Massachusetts legalized Christmas

Massachusetts complied with the king’s wishes for liberal reform by annulling two laws on the books. The first was a death penalty statute for Quakers returning to the colony after banishment. The second outlawed the “keeping of Christmas.”

Further rubbing salt in the wound, Samuel Sewall had to oversee printing of the new laws. After Massachusetts legalized Christmas, Sewall happily noted in his diary that the holiday in 1685 was less popular than ever despite the new laws.

Massachusetts Legalized Christmas, but…

Dec. 25. Friday. Carts come to Town and Shops open as is usual. Some somehow observe the day; but are vexed I believe that the Body of the People profane it, and blessed be God no Authority yet to compel them to keep it. A great Snow fell last night so this day and night very cold.

Several days later, Samuel Sewall wrote his cousin agreed with him: [there] was less Christmas-keeping than last year, fewer Shops Shut up.

Twelve years later, Sewall continued his anti-Christmas crusade. On Dec. 25, 1697, he wrote: Snowy day: Shops are open, and Carts and sleds come to Town with Wood … as formerly, save what abatement may be allowed on account of the weather. This morning we read in course the 14, 15, and 16 Psalms . . . I took occasion to dehort mine from Christmas-keeping, and charged them to forbear.

Snubbed

Sewall’s Grinch-like view of Christmas did cost him politically. In 1698, Samuel Sewall noted the lieutenant governor invited most of the legislature to his home for dinner on Christmas. However, he “knew nothing of it,” uninvited most likely because he so hated the celebration.

In 1722, Samuel Sewall hinted he might soften his position. He had changed his mind before, having years earlier apologized for his role in the Salem witch trials. He accepted both “blame and shame” for serving as one of the judges at the trials.

By then, Gov. Samuel Shute had appointed Samuel Sewall as chief justice of the Superior Court of Judicature.

In the end, Samuel Sewall held fast on Christmas. His diary tells of his tug-of-war with Shute and the General Court over whether the body should adjourn for a Christmas holiday:

Dec. 19. His Excellency took me aside to the Southeast Window of the Council Chamber, to speak to me about adjourning the General Court to Monday next because of Christmas. I told his Excellency I would consider of it.

Put It to a Vote

Dec. 20. I invited Dr. [Cotton] Mather to Dine with me, not knowing that he preached. After Diner I consulted with him about the Adjournment of the Court. We agreed, that it would be expedient to take a vote of the Council and Representatives for it.

So Samuel Sewall made the suggestion to the governor.

Friday, Dec 21. The Governor took me to the window again looking eastward, next Mrs. Phillips’s, and spoke to me again about adjourning the Court to next Wednesday. I spoke against it; and propounded that the Governor would take a Vote for it; that he would hold the Balance even between the Church and us. His Excellency went to the Board again, and said much for this adjourning; All kept Christmas but we; I suggested King James I to Mr. Dudley, how he boasted what a pure church he had; and they did not keep Yule nor Pasch (Easter).

Mr. Dudley asked if the Scots kept Christmas. His Excellency protested, he believed they did not. Governor said they adjourned for the Commencement and Artillery. But then it is by agreement. Col. Taylor spoke so loud and boisterously for adjourning that it was hard for any to put in a word; Col. Townsend seconded me, and Col. Partridge; because this would prolong the Sessions.

The Debate Rages Even After Massachusetts Legalized Christmas

Where Samuel Sewall and the Governor’s Council argued about adjourning for Christmas.

Sewall argued that the Puritans had come a long way for their freedom to worship, and now the Church of England had its freedom. But, he argued, the Anglicans insisted on putting down the Puritans.

Mr. Davenport stood up and gave it as his opinion that it would not be convenient for the Governor to be present in Court that day; and therefore was for adjourning. But the Governor is often absent; and yet the Council and Representatives go on. Now the Governor has told us, that he would go away for a week; and then returned and if he liked what we had done, He would Consent to it. The Governor mentioned how it would appear to have votes passed on December 25. But his Excellency need not have been present nor signed any bill that day. I said the dissenters came a great way for their Liberties and now the church had theirs, yet they could not be contented, except they might tread all others down…

Saturday Dec. 22. About a quarter of an hour before 12 the Governor adjourned the Court to Wednesday morning at 10 o’clock and sent Mr. Secretary into the House of Deputies to do it there.

Victory in Defeat

Sewall had lost the battle over the General Court, but he happily noted in his diary on the 25th that many people didn’t keep Christmas:

Tuesday, Dec. 25 …. The Shops were open, and carts came to town with wood, hoop-poles, hay, etc. as at other Times. Being a pleasant day, the street was filled with carts and horses.

This story about Samuel Sewall and Christmas was updated in 2022.

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The 21 New England Colonial and State Capitals

New England cities and towns used to vie for colonial and state capitals the way they now court sports stadiums, with the result that 21 New England capitals graced the land since Europeans settled the region.

Typical 18th century New England government building

Typical 18th century building you’d find in New England state capitals

Rhode Island, the tiniest state, has had the most state capitals, while Massachusetts, the largest, has had the fewest.

Connecticut once had its state capital in New York and Maine had its in Canada. Two of Vermont’s capitals have served as the seat of a national government, and Boston was at one time the capital of all New England.

The reasons for moving colonial and then state capitals had to do with conquest, migration and the ideals of the American Revolution. Americans thought they were taxed without representations, and they blamed the distance from the British Parliament. After independence, they believed they needed equal physical access to the state legislature to get represented equally.

21 New England State Capitals

From 1776 to 1812, the people of the 13 original colonies agitated to move their state capitals to the center of the state, writes Rosemarie Zagarri, in The Politics of Size: Representation in the United States, 1776-1850.

“The confidence of people in their government rested on people’s ability to know and be known by their representatives,” Zagarri wrote. After decades of westward migration, it made no sense to them to have a capital on the Atlantic coast.

Old State House 1793

Boston, the longest continuing state capital in the United States, was the one New England capital that stayed put. John Winthrop’s city on a hill had too much power to let any upstart town take the government away from it.

As is still the case, western Massachusetts resented Boston for it. The people of Springfield, Mass., commented in 1780 that “It is probably, by Reason of their different situations, that many of the more distant Towns will generally omit the full Exercise of their Rights, and that those at or near the Center of Government will exercise them in their full Extent.”

Seating the commonwealth’s government in Boston was on the list of grievances during Shay’s Rebellion.

East vs. West

Residents of Lenox objected to the Massachusetts constitution of 1778 because, as they put it, “[Article 6] has a tendency to induce the Remote parts of the State … to neglect keeping a Representative at the General Court. In a word it is making Representation unequal.”

Plymouth

Boston reigned as the capital of all New England when King James II created the Dominion of New England in 1686. James correctly worried the colonies were too independent and thought consolidating the colonies would solve the problem. It didn’t. The Dominion lasted all of three years. In 1689, the Boston Revolt ended the Dominion and sent Royal Gov. Edmund Andros packing.

Boston, however, wasn’t always the capital of all Massachusetts. For 70 years, Plymouth was the capital of Plymouth Colony, which included Cape Cod, Scituate, Marshfield and Duxbury, Bridgewater, Taunton, what is now New Bedford and Fall River, Dartmouth and Freetown. Plymouth could even argue a history as capital of Rhode Island, as Plymouth Plantation claimed parts of Rhode Island including Bristol, Rehoboth and Little Compton.

The Flying State Capitals of RI and Conn.

View of Newport, 1730. Courtesy Library of Congress.

View of Newport, 1730, one of RI’s many state capitals. Courtesy Library of Congress.

Rhode Island and Connecticut resolved the conflicts over the location of their state capitals. They decided on rotating state capitals, a solution dubbed ‘The Flying Statehouse.’

From 1639 to 1644, Portsmouth, R.I., served as the capital of the English colony of Aquidneck Island and Providence the capital of – well, Providence. For more than a century, Providence prevailed as the seat of government when the two colonies merged in 1644, with the brief interruption of Boston as the capital of the Dominion.

In 1776, Rhode Island embarked on a lively experiment, rotating its capital to each of the five county seats: Providence, Newport, East Greenwich, South Kingstown and Bristol. The experiment proved too lively. After 1853 the state legislature stopped meeting in the Kent, Washington and Bristol counties and alternated between Providence and Newport. Providence grew and Newport declined, and in 1900 the government finally settled down in Providence.

The old Connecticut Statehouse,.

The Dutch once claimed Connecticut. Its capital was New Amsterdam, a fort at the tip of the island now known as Manhattan. In 1639 Connecticut broke off as a separate English colony. A year later, so did New Haven.

Hartford and New Haven held sway as respective state capitals, except during the three years of the Dominion of New England.

From 1701 to 1875, Hartford and New Haven were the co-capitals of Connecticut, with the General Assembly holding spring sessions in Hartford and fall sessions in New Haven. Lawmakers got fed up with the complicated arrangement and decided to settle on one city. Hartford and New Haven vied for the privilege of hosting the government, and Hartford won.

Vermont and NH

Artists’ conception of the first New Hampshire Statehouse

Portsmouth became the capital of New Hampshire in 1689 until 1775, with the usual caveat about Boston.

During the American Revolution, New Hampshire’s General Assembly shuttled among Concord, Hopkinton, Dover, Amherst, Charlestown and Hanover, but officially settled in Exeter. After the war, New Hampshire citizens clamored for a centrally located capital and travel-weary lawmakers agreed.

Portsmouth cautioned against the move in 1790, arguing that citizens were less likely to be represented when their state capitals were far away.

Concord became New Hampshire’s de facto capital in 1808, though not by law until 1816.

Montpelier

Vermont has had four capitals. The state started out as disputed territory between New York and New Hampshire. On Jan. 15, 1777, representatives meeting in the oldest town, Westminster, declared independence from both and gave themselves the name, The Republic of New Connecticut. Almost six months later, representatives of the new republic met in the biggest town, Windsor, and changed their name to the Republic of Vermont.

Vermont succumbed to the prevailing desire for a central capital in 1805, 14 years after it became a state. Windsor lost out to the small town of Montpelier, then with a population of less than 2,000.

Maine

Part of Maine was once the French colony l’Acadie, and in 1604 its capital was Ile St. Croix, now the uninhabited St. Croix Island. In 1605 Port Royal, now in Nova Scotia, became the capital of Acadia. Then by 1658 Maine had joined Massachusetts, and until 1820 its capital was Boston.

The people of Augusta chipped in $11,000 for this

For the next 12 years, Portland served as Maine’s capital, but many lawmakers wanted to move the seat of government to a central city or town. In 1822 a committee was appointed to visit Portland, Brunswick, Hallowell, Augusta, Waterville, Belfast and Wiscasset. The Lewiston Saturday Journal reported, “In each of which towns a choice of very valuable lots was freely offered for the acceptance of the state.”

They said if it were to be on the seaboard, it should be in Wiscasset, but if inland, on Weston Hill in Augusta because of its scenic beauty. Augusta bought the hill and gave it to the state. That sealed the deal; Augusta it was.

Still Not Resolved

Architects drew up plans for a statehouse budgeted to cost $80,000. In the end it cost $138,991.34. Augusta citizens picked up $11,000 to keep the capitol, but the tug-of-war hadn’t ended. Portland, now known as ‘the deserted village’ after the capital moved, kept trying to get the government back.

On Jan 26, 1907, the Lewiston Saturday Journal reported ‘ever since 1821, the issue has been right there in the same old place. Sometimes it has been quiescent. Sometimes it has been acute. It comes in cycles–usually of ten years separation. Several times it has shaken the state from border to border. It may do so again — this session or next. In either case, Augusta must wake up. … a serious and important movement [is] forming.”

Augusta kept the capitol.

This story about the 21 New England state capitals was updated in 2022. Image of the Old Connecticut Statehouse By olekinderhook, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=54816354.

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