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TII.K PURITAN CIIARACTKU. 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 .A 
 
 i 
 
 AN 
 
 ADDRESS 
 
 DELIVKKKD UKPORK TIIK 
 
 NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY 
 
 or TlIK 
 
 CITY OP^ MONTREAL, 
 
 DECEMBER 23, 185T. 
 
 BY 
 
 REV. ASA D, SMITH, D.D., 
 
 PASTOR OF THB POOKl'KBNrH STB8BT PRKSBTTRRIAN CHURCH, NRW YORK 
 
 MONTREAL : 
 rUBLI8HED BY THE 800IKTY. 
 
 18 5 8. 
 
F 
 
 \fONTnRAI„ I)(>C. 2 J. 1HS7. 
 
 Rpv. Asa D. Smith, D.D.. 
 
 Dear Sir :—The undersi-fiiod, iiiombcrs of tlic ('ommittoc of tlio New 
 Fiii«,'lun«l Society of Montroal. Iiavinj? liatoiiod witli (loop iiitoroHt to your 
 Orution, on ^Vednesl^ay tlio 23d iiist , rospectfully request a copy for 
 ()ul)Iicat.ion, 
 
 Veiy truly yours, 
 
 CANFIELD DOUWIN. 
 NATHANIEL S. WlIirNKY, 
 WILIJAM T. HAifHON, 
 ('HAMrp:()N HIIOWN, 
 
 CLAUK Firrs, 
 
 KBNKZEIl V. TU'ITLE, 
 H?:NRY W. ATWATEll, 
 HOKATIO A. NELSON, 
 SAMUEL G. BROWNING, 
 SCTH B. SCOT!', 
 CALVIN P. LADD. 
 ALFRED M. FARLEY 
 
 New York, January 12, 1858. 
 
 ( f ENTLEMEN : 
 
 In compliunce with the reijiiost so cou-teously conveyed in your note 
 of the 24th uit., I herewith submit to your disposal the Address deliver- 
 lil before the Society which you represent. 
 
 Very rospectfully and tru"/ yours, 
 
 ASA D. SMITH. 
 
 •Messrs. Canobld Dorwin, 
 
 Natuaniel S. Whitney, 
 
 WiLUAM T. Bauron, and others. Committee. 
 
4 
 
ADDRESS. 
 
 (iKNTLEMEN OF THE NeW Kn^LAND SoCIETY 
 
 
 The celcbrution to which wc gather here, 
 has, 111 the eyes of so'ne of us — of some even of tljc 
 sons of New Kn^land — a certain aspe(;t of novelty. 
 Not that we liave failed to chcrisli, as becomes us, 
 the memory of the Pilgrims. Their names and 
 their deeds have been as household words to us. 
 Musing upon them till the lire has burned, we have 
 told them to our children, and have sounded them 
 forth in the chief places of concourse. As from year 
 to year this anniversary has returned, we have 
 given heed to the summons of other like societies, — 
 hard by the rock of Plymouth itself; or in the old 
 Puritan capital ; oi- in the great metropolis of the 
 natioTi : or in its newer regions, prompt to confess, 
 in their matchless progress, the presence and the 
 power of the New England spirit. We meet to- 
 day, however, without the bounds of the land of the 
 pilgrims. We are on British soil, within the sound 
 of that drum-beat whose echoes girdle the globe. 
 
6 
 
 The same royal banner waves over ua whieh was 
 flung to tlie breeze at Marston Moor, at Nasel)y 
 and at VVoreestcr. We sit under that same seeptrc 
 which was borne oy Henry \'1 1 1, the verital>le lihie- 
 beard of our nursery terrors, by " bk^ody Mary," 
 at wlu>se name the eheek (»!' our ehildliood was 
 bhinehecl, and by James 1, who tlii'eatened, and 
 was " as good as his word, " to " harry" our Ibre- 
 fatliers out of his reahu. 
 
 ]\u\ uniijue though tlie seene is, it luis no repul- 
 sive or ill-boding aspeet. Its spirit is peaee, and its 
 omens are all of goo<l. It is not only of high his- 
 toric import, it has a grand prophetic signilieaney. 
 Out of the lires of Puritanism, the J5ritish seeptre 
 has eome, as the most loyal admit, more linely tem- 
 pered. The mists of prejudice dispelled, it is seen 
 now, by all who have eyes to see, how great is the 
 debt which even Old England owes to the men and 
 the principles we celebrate to-day. Her "meteor 
 flag " waves us not deliance, but a welcome. Like 
 the stars and stripes of our native land, it is a 
 symbol t(j us of liberty. Though on British soil, it 
 is a free air we breathe, an air the freer, as our 
 British friends will be prom})t to admit, for the 
 mighty Puritan winds that have stirred it. We are 
 brothers all, of one priceless heritage, of one great 
 mission, and in all that is dearest to humanity, 
 we trust, of one glorious desthiy. We who are 
 strangers here, yet feel ourselves at home. The 
 very face of nature dee})ens the impression. It is 
 a New England sky that is arched over us. It is 
 
 \ 
 
I which was 
 
 at Nasoby 
 
 111 10 s('(!|)tr(' 
 
 Jilhlt' HUnj. 
 
 ►'ly Mary," 
 
 lliood wa.s 
 
 t'lied, and 
 
 our fore- 
 
 no ropiil- 
 co, and \\t* 
 Iiigh his- 
 ^iiilicaney. 
 ih «(!cptri' 
 nely Icm- 
 it is seen 
 -•at is the 
 men and 
 " meteor 
 L\ Like 
 it is a 
 1 soil, it 
 as our 
 for the 
 We are 
 great 
 nanity, 
 ho are 
 The 
 It is 
 It is 
 
 1 
 i 
 
 our own wintry hmdscapc that stretches about us. 
 Holding in abeyance some more recent and sadder 
 memories, ibe very soil of the province is hallowed 
 to us by the mingled blood — that of the two Eng- 
 lands shed in the same (;ause — with whicli in the 
 earlier times it was drenched. Well, then, may all 
 minor diversities be forgotten, as we open our 
 hearts to the joy of this festive occasion. There 
 are no "malignants" here ; there are no "fana- 
 tics.'' With something more than a mere intenui- 
 tional comity, with a oneness whi(;h, having its roots 
 deep in the past, will send many a blessing far into 
 the future — a oneness which will be more and 
 more, we are persuaded, that of the tw(j great em- 
 pires rei)rese!ited here — we assemble to-day to 
 commemorate the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers. 
 
 The orator at your last anniversary discoursed 
 with great felicity, both of thought and diction, on 
 the " Vision " of the Puritans. A fitting topic was 
 this, and especially appropriate, as the fu'st in your 
 series of anniversary addresses. Out of what men 
 see, comes evermore what they do. We look in 
 vain for achievement, where there is no discernment. 
 So it is written, " Where there is no vision the peo- 
 ple perish." ]5oth discernment and achievement 
 are the issue of character, and they both react upon 
 character. That is the resultant of all moral forces, 
 the condensation and crystallization, the fountain 
 and the sum of all human excellence. We make, 
 then, some little advance in the course of thought, 
 or at all events call you to a new stand-point, when 
 
we aiiiiouiH'e as \\w tliome of the pros(Mit occasion, 
 The 1*ukitan C'liAiiArTKu. Wr sliall prcstujl it as 
 ^rowinj^ out of certain f^roat priMciplt's, partially 
 approhi'iidod at (Irst. hut in ])rocosM oi" time nioro 
 I'lilly oclaircistMl ; principles aided, both as to their 
 development and their moulding inllueuec, by the 
 Ibrcc of circumstances — the outwaid, as ever hap- 
 
 pc 
 
 us, co-workinn; with the inward. We shall take 
 
 into view not only its nascent state, in the early 
 stru<jjgles with the thi'one and the hiei'ar<!hy, nor 
 even its more advanced and yet iinpei-l'eci staj^e, 
 when it sought a reru<;e in the western world, but 
 its mature nianil'estation also in the settled asj)ect8 
 jtud habitudes of New Kngland life. As nothing 
 mundane is (piite faultless, so here we may take 
 note both of defects and excrescences. And as hu- 
 man nature is essentially one. and moral excellence 
 in its aptitudes cosmopolitan, we may not forget 
 that the true Puritan spirit has had a lodgment in 
 many other than Puritan bosoms. It wrought 
 mightily in fJlermany. It animated the exiled Ilue- 
 gonots. It had a home in the valleys of Piedmont. 
 FiVen to the Romish communion, as the lives of 
 Savonarola and others like-miiuled bear witness, it 
 has not been utterly a stranger. We claim for the 
 noncomformists of England no monopoly of good- 
 ness. We utter no unseendy words of bigotry or 
 nncharitableness. Yet we are constrained to hold, 
 not only that the type of character we set forth is 
 one of the noblest the world has ever seen, but 
 that the Puritans themselves are its best exempli- 
 
 i 
 
9 
 
 lit occasion, 
 rt'scnt it as 
 s, partially 
 time nioro 
 as to their 
 n't\ by the 
 s ever liap- 
 sluiil lake 
 the early 
 luvhy, nor 
 Ccet stage, 
 vork], but 
 
 »'<! asjiects 
 s notliiiinr 
 
 may take 
 
 11(1 as hu- 
 
 jxcelleiioe 
 
 lot forget 
 
 Igmoiit in 
 
 wrought 
 iled IIuc- 
 *icdmont. 
 ^ lives of 
 .'itness, it 
 in for the 
 of good- 
 igotry or 
 I to hold, 
 t forth is 
 3en, but 
 Jxempli- 
 
 fication. If we speak freely and boldly, it will be 
 rememlu'red that this is no less a IJritish than u 
 New Kugljiiid pi'ivilcge. Something will be par- 
 doned to filial Iri'liiig. to patriotism, and to the oc- 
 casion. That saying will be borne in min<l, more- 
 over, that (lod sil'tf'd thr(M» kingdoms to find seed 
 for the iM'w world. Our Ibitish auditors esixMrially 
 will renuMuber, that whatever conunendations of 
 Ncnv FiUgland we utter, are to the jiraise also of 
 the FatlKM'land. l''or not oidy had the e\(!el- 
 lences we celebrate their root theie, they live 
 there still, -already an»ong its noblest and fairest 
 treasures, and destined clearly to a still ampler 
 growth. 
 
 First among the distinguishing attribut(\>^ of Pu- 
 ritan character, we name individualily. AVe name 
 it first, because in the scopt^ we give it, it is most 
 fundamental. Tt has its origin in the depths of 
 the moral nature — in the profoundest and most un- 
 alterable religious ccjnvictions. It is radicated in 
 the richest and deepest soil of Puritan history. It 
 is involved in the clear, vivid sense of personal 
 resj>oT}sibility to the Judge of all. It is wra])ped 
 up in the right of private judgment. A\'hen the 
 priest is the soul's (tonscience-keeper, and the par- 
 ticular worshipper is the mere appanage of an 
 overshadowing hierarchy, there can, of course, be 
 little of true and ennobling individualism. The 
 loftiest fncidtics of huraanit}- held 'v\ duress, stifled 
 and well nigh crushed out of it, and its course 
 downward, by consequence, toward a miserable 
 
10 
 
 >^ 
 
 chattelism, what likelihood, nay what possibility, of 
 any proper personal development? There is no- 
 thing left to develope. But the moment the great 
 system of spiritual brokerage is set aside, as by 
 Luther and his compeers, — the moment the soul 
 stands erect before God, in its proper individual 
 sonship, — praying for itself, through the one suffi- 
 cient Mediator, — answering for itself, and so judg- 
 ing for itself, — then does it stand erect also before 
 its fellow-men — not in religious matters only, but 
 in all others. Spiritual freedom secured, civil 
 freedom follows, as a thing of course. The whole 
 individual being is exalted, and its sphere enlarged. 
 With self-government come self-reliance, indepen- 
 dence of opinion, and that free unfoldhig of indi- 
 vidual character, according to its idiosyncracies, 
 without which there is no jjossibility of the highest 
 general advancement. 
 
 Such is the outline of what may be called the 
 Puritan development. Of the correctness of our 
 representation as to the connection of political with 
 religious liberty — the vital connection, not the 
 merely accidental or mechanical — let all history 
 bear witness. Let English history especially tes- 
 tify. When Magna Charta was granted at Runny- 
 mede, it was not, be it remembered, with the favor 
 of Rome. Rome sided not with the intrepid bar- 
 ons, but with reluctant and faithless John. Nay, 
 so far as lay in her power, she soon wrested fi m 
 its place that corner-stone of British liberty. By 
 Pope Lmocent III, Magna Charta was formally ab- 
 
)ssibility, of 
 'lore is no- 
 it tlie great 
 side, as by 
 it the soul 
 
 individual 
 3 one sjiffi. 
 id so judg- 
 l«o before 
 
 only, but 
 ired, civil 
 riie whole 
 
 enlarged. 
 , iiidepcn- 
 ? of indi- 
 yncracies, 
 'G highest 
 
 ailed the 
 5s of our 
 l^ical with 
 
 not the 
 
 history 
 ally tes- 
 
 Runny- 
 he favor 
 pid bar- 
 Nay, 
 ed fi m 
 ty. By 
 ally ab- 
 
 11 
 
 rogated ; and its principles were fully carried out 
 only as Puritanism leavened the nation. Wicklide, 
 it is true, fitly styled " t!ic Morning Star of the 
 Reformation," was so far favored by king and 
 court, that though papal bulls called for his blood, 
 he died peacefully ir his bed. It was not till the 
 reign of Hein-y VI, that by order of the Council 
 of Constance, his bones were publicly burned, 
 and the ashes thrown into the stream that Hows 
 near the church at Lutterworth. He took the 
 king's part, it must bo remembered, however, in 
 regard to certain onerous exactions of the Papacy. 
 The full scope of his teachings, besides, was not, 
 at that time, generally perceived — not even, it 
 may be said, by Wicklifle himself Only the faint 
 dawn then brightened the hill-tops. In the lapse 
 of time, the hostile bearing of his principles on all 
 absolutism, became api)arent. It was seen also, 
 as Thomas Fuller has so quaintly said, that as the 
 stream into which his ashes were cast took them 
 " into tlie Avon, Avon into the Severn, Severn, 
 into the narrow seas — they into the main ocean," 
 so those ashes became " the emblems of his doc- 
 trine '" ■''' ''' dispersed over all the world." Then 
 did all absolutism arouse itself to the battle. Laws 
 were enacted from reign to reign against the 
 hated Lollards. Royal proclamations were issued. 
 Persecutions were set on foot. The tribunals of 
 justice were subsidized. The reading of the Bible, 
 that great fountain of Puritan thought and argu- 
 ment, was prohibited. In Henry YIII, the two 
 
 :f. 
 
12 
 
 despotisms, civil and ecclesiastical, were formally 
 united, each giving strength and intensity to the 
 other. Hunted liberty had indeed a Lreathing 
 time under the youthful Edward. But the archers 
 made ready their bows again, and for a more ter- 
 rible onset, as Mary asc^ended the throne. Though 
 Elizabeth was Protestant in name, she showed no 
 favor to the uonconformists. She claimed the 
 most absolute supremacy in matters of religion ; 
 and to crush all who questioned it, established the 
 Court of High Commission. Yet she acted not in 
 this with reference to religion alone ; she had her 
 eye also on her civil supremacy. It was in view 
 of this, probably, that the Duke of Cumberland 
 replied, when she asked his opinion of the two mar- 
 tyrs, Barrowe and Greenwood, that he judged them 
 the servants of God, but " dangerous to the state." 
 It was in the heart of Elizabeth to say with the 
 French monarch, " I am the State." Matters per- 
 taining to it were all at the disposal of her sovereign 
 will. Not even parliaments might touch them. 
 " Still less," says Hume, "were they to meddle with 
 the Church." Least of all was the hidividual wor- 
 shipper to judge for himself It might lead, and it 
 probably would, to judgments in other directions. 
 Clearly was this likelihood seen by that vaunting 
 professor of kingcraft, James I. "My Lords," 
 said he to the Bishops, " I may thank you that 
 these Puritans plead for my supremacy ; for if once 
 you are out, and they are in place, I know what 
 would become of my supremacy — for 7io buhop, no 
 
'•e formally 
 I'^ity to Ihe 
 breathing 
 tlio archers 
 more tor- 
 . TJioiigh 
 showed no 
 aimed the 
 f I'cligion ; 
 )]i.shed the 
 ted not in 
 e had her 
 as in view 
 imberland 
 > two mar- 
 ked them, 
 the state." 
 r with the 
 otters per- 
 sovereign 
 ic]i them, 
 'ddle with 
 iliial wor- 
 ad, and it 
 irections. 
 vaunting 
 ^ Lords/' 
 you that 
 ►1' if once 
 ow what 
 l^hop^ no 
 
 13 
 
 king''' Such were the sympathies between des- 
 potism in the State and despotism in the Church. 
 And so it happened commonly, that as religious 
 liberty was abridged, the spirit of civil tyranny })e- 
 came more rami)ant ; or as the rights of the indi- 
 vidual conscience were secured, the prerogatives of 
 the Crown were happily curtailed. Well may 
 Hume say, as notwithstanding all his prejudices he 
 does, "The precious spark of liberty was kindled 
 and was preserved hij the Puritans aiofie ;'' and it 
 is "to this sect, * "'' that the English owe the ivhole 
 freedom of their Constitution.^^ 
 
 The element of character thus potent in English 
 history, lost nothing of its force as borne across the 
 sea. With a new field, affording new opportuni- 
 ties and incentives, it had a new and larger mani- 
 festation. It gave shape to the civil institutions, 
 the grand pattern whereof Puritan hands had con- 
 structed in the cabin of the Mayflower. It dis- 
 carded the ancient maxim, the individual for the 
 State, and replaced it by that other, — liable, indeed, 
 to great abuse, but yet full of all wisdom and be- 
 nignity, — the State for the individual. It asserted 
 the rights of the personal conscience ; not, indeed, 
 we are free to say, without occasional faltering and 
 inconsistency. There has been something of mis- 
 apprehension and exaggeration on this point ; the 
 age and the circumstances, perhaps, have been too 
 little considered. Yet, after all, we cannot but 
 acknowledge, with reverent regret, that our Pil- 
 
 grim Fathers did in some instances infringe their 
 
14 
 
 own principles. This is only saying, that though 
 groat men, they were but men. As the Puritan 
 spirit, however, accomplished its full informing 
 work, the law of toleration gained unbroken domi- 
 nancy ; and a high individualism marks now, it 
 must be admitted, all the forms and outgoings of 
 the New England life. 
 
 The genuine Yankee has a great liorror of spiri- 
 tual despotism iri all its modifications. He respects 
 the clergyman, but he will not blindly follow liim. 
 He will even talk over the sermon after meeting, 
 and catch the minister tripping if he can. As he 
 may think for himself about divine things, you may 
 be sure he will make free with human. He has an 
 opinion about everything, and he hesitates not to 
 utter it. He is trained to do this, with a training 
 begotten of what it nurtures. The deliberations 
 of the school district and the town meeting, the 
 debates of the lyceum, the various political discus- 
 sions, the exercise of the elective franchise, with 
 the broad range of judgment which it calls for, all 
 give scope to the individualism of his character. 
 There is a wide reach to this proclivity. It enters 
 not merely into practical matters, but into the 
 highest spheres of metaphysical speculation. Be- 
 tween those opposite poles of philosophy, nomi- 
 nalism and realism, you need be in no doubt, 
 exceptional cases apart, as to which he will choose. 
 Unless, indeed, as is most likely, he seeks a golden 
 mean between the two. Downright realism, to 
 borrow a Yankee phrase, " stands but a poor 
 
liat though 
 the Puritan 
 informing 
 oken domi- 
 ks now, it 
 utgoings of 
 
 or of spiri- 
 le respects 
 ollow him. 
 ' meeting, 
 fi. As he 
 
 > you may 
 He has an 
 tes not to 
 a training 
 iberations 
 Jting, the 
 al discus- 
 nse, with 
 s for, all 
 haracter. 
 It enters 
 into the 
 )n. Be- 
 y, nomi- 
 
 > doubt, 
 choose. 
 
 t golden 
 lism, to 
 a poor 
 
 15 
 
 chance'' in New England. The elder Edwards did, 
 indeed, ingraft it, to some extent, on the great 
 banyan tree of his theology ; but it has never been 
 thought to grow well. It has been deemed an ex- 
 crescence by most of his successors, and they have 
 been diligently striving to prune it away. Vou 
 seek in vain to get into the brain of a thorC'Ugh- 
 going New Englander, the idea of a species, as an 
 actual entity, apart from the individuals. With his 
 sharp logic, lie will "whittle" away such a theory 
 till it ends in nothingness. There is, it must be 
 admitted, a liability to excess in this direction. 
 The individualizing habit needs to be watched and 
 guarded, in relation as well to its theoretic as its 
 practical tendencies. "We welcome, in this view, 
 that dynamic method which, in modern thinking 
 generally, is taking the place of the atomic and the 
 mechanical, and which is makhig all science 
 more vital and organic. While it runs occasion- 
 ally into a haziness and dreaminess, less to be toler- 
 ated than the baldest nominalism, it will exert, on 
 the whole, a happy restraining and modifying in- 
 fluence. It v/ill not annul — it will only, we trust, 
 render more effective — that characteristic of New 
 England which, after all proper abatements, must 
 be deemed one of the chief elements both of her 
 excellence and her power. 
 
 The value of this trait may further appear as we 
 pass to that natural offshoot of it, originality. The 
 more of a mere vassal one is, in whatever sense, 
 the more he loses himself in the mass, the less 
 
 'A 
 :4 
 
m 
 
 16 
 
 likely is he to be fertile in invention. His hubit is, 
 to think others thoughts, and wiilk in ways which 
 they prescribe. Not trusting his own judgment, it 
 of course falls into hebetude. Hardly at liberty 
 to adopt new things, why should ho seek for them ? 
 But with self-consciousuees, self-assertion, and self- 
 reliance, comes a new vigor of im.agination, and a 
 new boldness of research. Thinking for liimself, 
 and thinking freely, he is likely to encounter new 
 thoughts — of which never did free spirit fail. And 
 if they be good, as well as new, why should he 
 reject tliem ? Why should not he make progress 
 as well as others? Seeking no monopoly in dis- 
 covery, he allows none. He bows {o no intellectual 
 autocracy. He has no superstitious reverence for 
 the past. His hope of the future eidarges, rather, 
 with his enlarged conceptions of that humanity for 
 which its treasures are to be unfolded. 
 
 To just this original cast of mind did all the 
 Puritan history tend. What a pioneer was Wick- 
 liffe, in a large domain of thought ! Not more ad- 
 venturous was he who, a century afterwards, made 
 his way over unknown waters to this western world. 
 Not stranger were his theories to the doctors of 
 Salamanca, thQ,n to the great mass of men the prin- 
 ciples which the father of Puritanism set forth. No 
 Luther had then arisen to cast up in the desert a 
 highway for the Lord. It was an untrodden 
 patn which he took, over rough places, and 
 through tangled thickets of error. Easy is it for 
 us to apprehend truths, so amply vindicated and 
 
17 
 
 lis luibit is, 
 
 
 vv.iys whicli 
 
 
 idgnient, it 
 
 
 J at liberty 
 
 
 c for them ? 
 
 
 11, and self- 
 
 
 iioii, and a 
 
 
 Cor liimself, 
 
 
 )iiiiter new 
 
 
 fail. And 
 
 
 should he 
 
 ■( ■ 
 
 e progress 
 
 
 H)ly in dis- 
 
 
 iitellectual 
 
 
 'erence for 
 
 
 :es, rather, 
 
 
 nianity for 
 
 
 id all the 
 
 
 \as Wick- 
 
 
 . more ad- 
 
 
 rds, made 
 
 
 :'rii world. 
 
 
 loctors of 
 
 'i 
 
 the prin- 
 
 
 )rth. No 
 
 
 ; desert a 
 
 
 ntrodden 
 
 ;. 
 
 oes, and 
 
 ' 3 
 
 ' is it for 
 
 ''i 
 
 itcd and 
 
 
 \ 
 
 tested ns to eomineiHl general a('ceptanco. Tlie 
 most timid, drivelHnj;-c'0})yi.st can talk ill lur<:o now 
 of the rii^hts of conseienco, and llic princi[)le.s of 
 civil liberty. It was ipiito another thing to re- 
 verse tliL- judgnienl of centuries ; to take ji stand 
 against councils and universities : to ([uestion dog- 
 mas which had come to be regarded almost as iirst 
 truths ; to oppose an authority which, by the al- 
 lowance of tlu' whole Christian world, sat "as God 
 in the tem[)le of (Jod." This Wicklille did, and 
 this to some extent did the Puritans of succeeding 
 ages. The light, it is true, gradually bi-ightened. 
 Precedents were multiplied. The line of noncon- 
 formist argument had less and less of novelty about 
 it. Yet down even to the reign of James 1, 
 usage, prescription, old dogmas and creeds, old 
 petrified conventionalities, were largely against 
 them. Such a lingering was there of the old ub- 
 solutistic habit of thought, even in the da^'s of the 
 Long Parliament, that for the sake of the impres- 
 sion upon the peo})le, the very forces to be enn)loyed 
 against the king were levied in his name. And 
 when Charles was led, at last, to the scaiTold — not 
 here to discuss the justice or the expediency of the 
 deed — it indicated, at least, in its relations to the 
 general sentiment of the world, a bold originality of 
 thought, of which history affords hardly a parallel. 
 ■'The truth is," Carlyle Justly remarks, "no mod- 
 ern writer caji conceive the then atrocity, ferocity, 
 unspeakability of this fact. First, after long read- 
 ing in the old dead pamphlets, does one see the 
 
'f' 
 
 18 
 
 Tna<j^nitii(l(; of it. To 1)0 (M|iiullecl, nay to be nre- 
 feiTcd, tliiiik soino, in point of liorror, to llio cnici- 
 (ixion of (/lirist. Alas, in tliese irreverent limes of 
 ours, if all the kin^s of Europe were to be cut in 
 pieees at one swoop, and llun^jj in lieai)S in St. 
 Mar<;aret"s church-yard on the same day, the emo- 
 tion w(»uld, in strict arithmetical truth, be small in 
 comparison I" 
 
 With such historic antecedents and associations, 
 it is no marvel that ori<;inality so characterizes the 
 land of the l^il^rims. Jt marks all lier institutions. 
 It permeates all individual and social life. In the 
 line of inventions and discoveries pertainin*:; to the 
 material interests of men — to take the lowest view 
 —while the nation at large holds honorable com- 
 petition with the old world, the records of the 
 Patent Ollice give an unquestionable primacy to 
 New Engi'ind. Iler brain has wrought more largely 
 in this direction than that of all the country be- 
 sides. For whatever notable novelty — from a razor- 
 stro}) to i spinning-jenny — from a cooking stove to 
 an electric elegraph — from a box of curiously com- 
 pounded pills, that will almost set a fractured limb, 
 to a subtile fluid that will steej) the senses in a more 
 than ^lorphean forgetfulness — you look no where 
 so hopefully as to a scheming Yankee. 
 
 Nor is L.ie originality of New England less mani- 
 fest in higher relations. We see it in her litera- 
 ture. It is, indeed, a human, nay, an Anglo-Saxon 
 literature ; and it must, therefoic, have something 
 in common with that of the Fatherland. Nor do 
 
19 
 
 lo 1)0 Dre- 
 > llio cruci- 
 iit times of 
 ) 1)0 cut in 
 Mips in St. 
 , tho eino- 
 1)0 small in 
 
 sociations, 
 toi'lzos the 
 istitutions. 
 L'. In the 
 lino- to tho 
 west view 
 ■able corn- 
 els of the 
 rimacy to 
 •re largely 
 untry bo- 
 m a razor- 
 g stove to 
 usly corn- 
 red limb, 
 ill a more 
 no where 
 
 ess mani- 
 er litera- 
 lo-Saxon 
 omething 
 Nor do 
 
 :•? 
 
 we }*M\\ lliat liore and tl'oro, on this side of (lie 
 water as well as the other, uie vice of plagiarism 
 may l)e detected. What wo aflirm is, that as in 
 what we are, so in what wo write, there ai'o marked 
 {)ecnliarities. The idiosyncracy is manifest. The 
 frnit bears the ilavor of the Soil. Foregoing, as 
 we needs must, all analytic or inductive proof, we 
 may sustain ourselves here by tho very testimony of 
 our defamers. Certain of our FiUglish and Scotch 
 critics are perpetually demolishing, though with a 
 singular unconsciousness of it, their own fabrics of 
 misrepresentation. In the very same breath in 
 which they find fault with us for having no national 
 literature, for servilely copying transatlantic models, 
 they are out upon us incontinently for our villanous 
 Americanisms. And not merely lor those peculi- 
 arities of expression, many of which are but the 
 natural outgrowth of our peculiar national life ; 
 they berate us for that very life itself, as it is 
 breathed through our writings. " Why will you so 
 imitate?" say they. " Why not give expression to 
 your own proper character ?" And they wind up 
 by very consistently adding, " Why are you so 
 vehement, and intensive, and exaggerative, and 
 explosive ? Why not keep quiet as we do ? Why 
 not write like Oliver Goldsmith or the Spectator? 
 Why not speak like Sir Robert Peel or my Lord 
 Chatham ?'' 
 
 Nowhere has the view we now take ampler con- 
 firmation than in the domain of various philosophy, 
 and the sj)here of divinity. The whole history of 
 
 
'11 
 i' > 
 it i 
 
 20 
 
 N"p\v Kn,i!;lnn(] liiis Ixvmi a poninioiitiirv on thr.t n()]>lc' 
 sayiiii!; of .lolm Hol^inson, "J am vci-y conrKhMil 
 lliiit llie I.oi'il has niort' tnilli iiiid liulil 1<» Itrcak 
 t'oi'lh out of his lioly wonl." She lias lieoii oven 
 siil)j('('t to i'('|»roa('h in this rc<;nnl. A land of wild 
 ami i)(»slir(»roiis isms has slii* hiMMi (hMioniiiiatod : and 
 in no qnarkM- hav<' herosy-hnntors liad a wider 
 I'anirc It shonld !)»' ivincndxTiM], Iiowcnt'i'. that 
 in the l\M-liK' soil wcmmIs <:^row as woll as the u'oldon 
 y;rain that onlv ahsohito sterility is sure of exenip- 
 lion IVom them. It is oidy stnuMiant intellect that 
 esea[ies all perversion, save oidy that p^reatest ol" 
 perversions, stagnancy itself. Individuality aud 
 oriuiiiiility. such as mark New Kn^land, umy some- 
 times <io astray. Now and then we may see ruin 
 in their wake. Yet, on the whole, whnt good have 
 they achieved, uot only in sheddinp; lin;ht on nniny 
 an old and familiar path of science, hut in opening 
 to the worhl many a new one. 
 
 We pass here natuvally to a third element of 
 Puritan character, intelUgcncc. This, as preceding 
 remarks have indicated, is intinnitely connected 
 with those already considered. With an mifet- 
 tered conscience, a sense of individual I'espon- 
 sibility, an immediate and elevating connnunion of 
 the soul with the Infmite One, such as hieran.'hical 
 formalism forbids : with a deepened impression, by 
 conseiiuence, of the magnitude of all personal in- 
 terests, and an independent and scrutinizing origi- 
 nality ; it is impossible that ignorance sliould be 
 tolerated. In such mental habitudes, the desire to 
 
 '1 
 
 ■i 
 
 ..1 
 
21 
 
 li;il iiolde 
 cojilidoiit 
 
 t<» lii'ciik 
 it'on (»voii 
 nl of wild 
 I tod ; and 
 
 !i widcM' 
 vci". that 
 Hi ,n()ldori 
 
 f CX(M11|)- 
 
 llocl lliat 
 
 (.'iilcsl of 
 
 ilitv ;nid 
 
 av some- 
 
 woo ruin 
 
 ood luivo 
 
 )ii many 
 
 opening 
 
 'ment of 
 receding 
 )nnected 
 I unfet- 
 I'cspon- 
 union of 
 'arehical 
 .si on, I)v 
 lonal in- 
 ig origi- 
 ould be 
 lesire to 
 
 I, 
 
 know is involvcid ; tlie ell'url will follow, nf (•()\n>e, 
 and I lie mt'iins will l»e secured. Those lialiiludes. 
 indeed, arc hoiii (tf intelligence. Tliey sustain to it 
 tile relation both ol' cause and ellect. It isoidyby 
 clear llionglit that the Puritan princijiles can be 
 duly appreciated. Whatever association they may 
 at any time have had with intellectual darkness, 
 lias been not natural, but abnornud. As the Mower 
 leans to\vai'<l the sunlight, so has it ever been with 
 them : and the brighter the radiance around them, 
 the more have they thriven. In all ages of their 
 progress, their leading advocates have been among 
 the mightiest thinkers of the times and of the race, 
 and the most zealous friends of i)o})ular enlighten- 
 ment. It is in no strain of undeserved or fulsome 
 panegyric that a modern writer has })ronoimced 
 " //le Puritans a title of intellectual as well as moral 
 nobility.'' 
 
 Time would fail us to s[)eak at large of Wick- 
 lill'e, who. besides his otiier accpiirements, was 
 ail ade})t in scholastic divinity, especially in the 
 Aristotelian philosojihy ; of Tyndale, the trans- 
 lator, who was able to vaiupiish in controversy even 
 the erudite Sir Thomas More ; of the elo([uent 
 Hooper, and the learned Whitehead ; of Sampson, 
 President of Magdalen College, Oxford ; of Hum- 
 phreys, described by Neale as " an able linguist, 
 and a deeper divine ;'' of John Knox, of whom it 
 has been said, " his tongue was a match for Mary's 
 sceptre ; " of Miles Coverdale, and Cartwrigbt, and 
 Fox the martyrologisl, and other men of high men- 
 
22 
 
 till cuKniv. who, ii) tho (liivc ('ciitiirics prcciMlin^ 
 the roi^^ni of .liiiiu's I, wcir variously imhiicfl with 
 the i'uritan spirit. Nor iuhmI wr piuisc to show- 
 how us. IVoiii r(M«^u to i('i<;n. arts of iiiiil'oiiiiity 
 woro |iass(Ml, and (Mirorccfi hv the Stui" riianihcr 
 tttid Court of llii^di Connuissiou, the wcll-iMlucatcd 
 liiiiustorswoiv larf^ely drivtMi IVoni their pulpits ; and 
 in many instances, to use the just lan«;ua<^e of the 
 times, "men of no ^it'ts," "shiftless men," "men 
 rtltofj^ether i^^norant," "servin«; men, and the hasest 
 of all sorts,'* were i)ut in their j)la('es. I'assinjij to the 
 seventeenth century, what a constellation of illustri- 
 ous names ])reaks upon us ! A wondtu'ful a^i^e was that 
 in all that related to mental achievement. W may 
 well be douhted if. in this re^jiard. the world owes an 
 e(jual debt to any other. The Puritan mind had. 
 indeed, been in training- for a<i:es. It had been 
 taske(l by earnest discussion on the most momen- 
 tous themes. It was no holiday allair, that <j!;ra))- 
 pling with questions on which hung all the dearest 
 interests of life, nay often life itself. No faculty 
 could slumber, or fail to do its utmost, when to 
 our fathers, as well as to Luther, the point in de- 
 bate seemed the ''artirulus sffot/is re/ radnitis.'^ 
 More than their own lives to them, as the dungeon 
 and the stake bore witness, were the welfare of the 
 (ihiirch and the glory of God. And so intellect 
 wrought on, mighty events as well as n)ighty de- 
 bates stirring it to its lowest depths. Nor was its 
 action confined to a single sphere : the movement 
 was universal. In all the domain of thought. 
 • there were giants in those days." 
 
23 
 
 VVlijit iu)hle (M I'uritsin f'onns tliron^; upon tlio 
 mind's ey<* uswospoiik. Thoiv wore tlio purliiiincnt- 
 arv onitors.— " Kill",' l*yrn." as lie was cailiMl. |br 
 the power whcrowith lie touclKMl all I lie cords of 
 tli(» liiiiiiaii heart, and Hampden and Mollis, lii.s 
 sa«;aci(ms and fai-sceinu; eom[»eers. Tlieic was 
 John lioeke, (Hsconi'sin^ not only in hland phi-ase 
 of toleration, luit in a serene, philosophic sj)irit, 
 of the mysteries of the hnnnin sonl. Thei'c was 
 "one Xfilton/'sin^inn; not only of"' i*ara<lise liost" 
 ami " I*aradise KegaincMl," hut of 
 
 " Sluu(,'htore(l siiitit«, whoao bones 
 Lie Hcitttorcil uii tli« Alpine laouutiuDu culd." 
 
 There was Owen, " the Trince of Divines ;" and 
 Rates, the " silver-tongued ;" and Howe, with his 
 majesty and depth ; and Flavel, with his tender- 
 ness and practical insight : and Baxter, with his 
 pungency and fervor ; and Charnocke, with his 
 vigor and discrimination ; and Matthew Henry, vvitii 
 his quaintness and scripturalness. There was the 
 dreamer of Bedford jail, too. whose word-panorama 
 of the " Pil^M'im's Progress" shall attract the gaze 
 of the nations till time shall be no more. 
 
 As the Puritan character took root in New Eng- 
 land, it had the same element of high intelligence. 
 Of tlu* four hundred volumes in the library of 
 Pilder Brewster, sixty -four were in Tjtitin, and 
 others in (Jrcek and Hebrew. Governors Bradford 
 and Winslow, though they had not received a Thii- 
 versity education, were men of no mean ac(|uire- 
 
 m 
 
 111 
 
!!' 
 
 24 
 
 nients. The iniuisters of the new settlements were 
 generally well trained ibr tlieir work ; yonie of them 
 were eminent for learning. John Cotton was able 
 to converse in Hebrew. Xorton had been a scholar 
 of the hiohost rank at Cambridge. Dunster was a 
 great proficient in Oriental literature ; and (.■haun- 
 cey had been Professor of Hebrew and Lecturer in 
 Greek at his alma mater. It is not strange thai 
 some of the first thoughts of such men should be 
 about education. Not only was Harvard College* 
 founded, but in due time other institutions of learn- 
 ing. The Connnon School system was established. 
 A free State, they were convinced, could hardly 
 exist without free schools. Knowledge and self- 
 government must ever go togethei* — so knowledge 
 and the right of private judgment. Self-govern- 
 ment else w^ere self-destruction, and a free con- 
 sciences an unchained maniac. To their wisdom 
 and painstaking in this direction, and to the populai' 
 sentiment wdiich has come down from them, New 
 England is mainly indebted, both for her present 
 excellent system of educational appliances, and foi- 
 the general intelligence of her people. Nor is she 
 alone a debtor. What she has thus received, she 
 has, in the true Puritan spirit, been ever dilfusing. 
 A great boon has she conferred, hi giving to the 
 rest of the country the idea and the pattern of the 
 common school. She has held out, besides, her own 
 elevated ty})e of the College and the University. 
 The nation has been stirred by it. As field after 
 field has been reached by the advancing tide of 
 
25 
 
 population, not only has the exani])le of the foun- 
 ders of Harvard, of Yale, and of Dartmouth been 
 influential, so that the higher seminaries of learn- 
 ing have been early estahlisluMl, — those seminaries, 
 at first, of necessity, rude and imperfect, liave been 
 continually drawn upward by the uiagnetic force 
 of the Eastern models. 
 
 The schools of N"ew England, moreover, have 
 benefited other sections of the country, through 
 the individuals they have trained. These have 
 been going forth in every direction, impelled by 
 the spirit of enterprise and of thrift, many of them 
 to ()ccu})y chairs of instruction, more to exert in 
 other ways — in the pulpit, at the bar, in the medi- 
 cal profession, in mercantile life, and even in indus- 
 trial i)ursuits— a quickening influence on the com- 
 mon mind. Much has been said at the East, and 
 said justl}', of the loss resulting from such emigra- 
 tion. Yet is there gain in it — yea, exceeding glory. 
 New England is working tiuis in her proper voca- 
 tion. Though she were stationai'v in an economical 
 view, or even " minished and brought low," yet 
 might we deem her, in this higher respect, lifted 
 up and enlarged. Just here is the hiding of her 
 power. Be it that other parts of the great national 
 organism have more of gi-owth in the grosser sense 
 — of till- broadening of the chest, and the out- 
 stretching of the limbs, the hardening of bone, and 
 the strengthening of muscle and sinew. The growth 
 here is of the cerebral tissues. It is the glory of 
 New England to be as the brain of the nation — to 
 
 
 '\i^ 
 
If 
 
 26 
 
 send forth to all the extremities those vital forces 
 without which the hiigest bulk is but 
 
 "Monstrura honenduin, infonue, ingens, cui lumen adeinptiim.'' 
 
 For the highest manifestation of the intelligence 
 of a people or a class, we look to their literature. 
 Young as the Western Republic is, it is last gain- 
 ing, in this regard, an honorable position among the 
 nations. The time is past when it was said taunt- 
 ingly, " Who reads an American book ?" The time 
 is at hand, yea, it now is, when it may be rather 
 said, Who has not read one ? And of all Ameri- 
 can literature, that of New England undoubtedly 
 has the pre-eminence. We say this in no mean 
 spirit of envy or detraction, but with a readiness 
 to render due justice to all other pai'ts of the land. 
 In the whole range of school-books, — to begin at 
 the beginning,— from the tiny primer, to the quarto 
 dictionary — from the first lessons in arithmetic, to 
 the highest department of mathematical science — 
 from the rudiments of geography, to the fullest ex- 
 position thereof — from the alphabet of chemistry, 
 up to the structure of the universe, — from the 
 barest outlines of mental and moral science, to the 
 complete system of " Empirical Psychology," — the 
 sons of the Puritans have had almost a monopoly. 
 Hardly less eminent have they been in the more 
 general walks of literature. TIow large their con- 
 tributions to theological science. What lustrous 
 names cluster in our memory as we speak — 
 Edwards, of world-wide fame : Hopkins, and Bel- 
 
27 
 
 lamy and D wight, those master spirits of their day ; 
 the great logician of yraiikHii ; the ardent exegete 
 of Andover, fitly called the father of herineneutical 
 science in the conntry, and his clear-minded col- 
 league in the chair of systematic divinity — not to 
 speak of others hardly less worthy of note. Meagre 
 comparatively would be the catalogue of American 
 authors in theology, were the men of New England 
 omitted. By our Puritan thinkers, the loftiest 
 heights of philosophy have been scaled — by some 
 who sleep with their fathers, and by others who are 
 yet among us. In the historical line, wherein phi- 
 losophy teaches by example, we can point, among 
 the living, to our Motley, our Prescott, and our 
 Bancroft, all an honor to their sphere, the last 
 scarcely inferior to his most brilliant European 
 (contemporary. In the department of legal lore, 
 we have had oiu' Danes, our Pickerings, and our 
 Stories ; in the medical line, our Olivers, our Jack- 
 sons, and our Warrens. What prominence has 
 been awarded to the periodical literature of the 
 East, especially in its weightier issues, I need not 
 say. Its Bibliotheca, its North American, and its 
 characteristic New Englander, will at once occur 
 to you. With all our gravity and utilitarianism, 
 even our prose has been adorned by some of the 
 most curious fabrics of the imagination . Female 
 fingers have been busy in this direction, as of our 
 Hale, and Child, and Stephens, and Sedgwick, and 
 Stowe. Artists of the other sex have given us 
 " Mosses from an old Manse," and strange "Scarlet 
 
 t||i 
 
Itfl 
 
 it) 
 
 28 
 
 Letters,'' Jind ftiutastic " Snow Tillages," and (|ueer 
 old "Houses with Seven (laldes." They have i)re- 
 seuted " Life" to us as in a kaleidoscope, giviu^- us 
 now its ■' Reveries," and now its " Dreams," and 
 now its strangely woven " Threads," and its most 
 fascinating " ilomance." (Jreat is the pt)wer of 
 eloquence, both as it falls from the lips of the liv- 
 ing and as it is echoed along the track of ages. 
 Xew England has not been unmindful of this. 
 Largely did she avail herself of it iu the olden time. 
 Nor has her recent history been a stranger to its 
 triuniplis. The men of this generation have looked 
 on a liviii<>; trio, the like of which, it mav be doubt- 
 ed if the world can furnish. Xeed I name him, 
 the sleeper at Marshfield, the clear shining of whose 
 logic was as the fullness of noontide ; or him of 
 Cambridge, the light of whose genius comes gently 
 and winningly over us, like that day-dawn whicii 
 he has so exquisirely painted ; or him at the head 
 of the I^oston bar, the outburst of whose vivid im- 
 agination is as the rainbow for mingled beauty, 
 and as the meteor for startling strangeness — yea 
 as a shower of L^iooting stars, or a whole hemi- 
 sphere suddenly illumined by auroral s})lend()rs ? 
 We forget noc the sweet intluence of poesy, of great 
 potency whether in ballads or in epics. We listen 
 gratefully and exultingly to tlie "L'salms of Life." 
 and the unique forest melodies, which Longfellow 
 has poured forth ; to the grave and "soul-like" tones 
 of Dana's harp ; to Whittier's hymns of lofty eheei- 
 for honest toil, and his clarion notes of rebuke for 
 
:!?I2S21 
 
 29 
 
 the proud oppressor. At tlio ])i(l(lin,u' of Picrpont, 
 llie "Airs ol' rnlostino" llojit aroimd us, mid the 
 Mavllower I'ides acraiii ui)Oii tlic wintry sea. As 
 the most musieal voiees of hirds, tlie stniiiis oi' 
 Stoddard sootlie us. Tlie inerry lau_tili of Saxe 
 rings out, elear and stirring as tlie tinkling sleigh- 
 bells of his own northern home. And he ol' the 
 healing art shows that his wit is keener than his 
 scalpel, and that rhymed mirih, at least, " doeth 
 good like a medicine." A\'ith bright gems of feel- 
 ing, of life, and oi'i'aith, Willis charms us. Lowell, 
 while he decks virtue in her fairest robes, '^l:;guer- 
 rcotypes grindy befoi-e us drivelling cant and bra- 
 zen hypocrisy. The measures of a Sigourncy and 
 of a (lould lind a welcome at our eirs ; those of 
 the one simple and sweet as the inim of bees, or 
 the murmur of crystal brooks,— those of the other 
 more finely wrought, like the strains that fall from 
 the lute or the guitar. With manlier notes, Lunt 
 and Burlei I'll stir us to noble deeds. We muse with 
 Dryant on the banks of his own " (Ireen River," 
 the peace of the scene passing into our hearts. Or 
 in more solemn mood, as befits pilgiims and sti'ang- 
 ers upon earth, we listen to the funereal tones of 
 his " Thanato})sis." 
 
 To the traits of character already named, m/jsci- 
 entiousncss must be added. It is indeed involved. 
 as we have seen, in a true individuality, but it de- 
 serves, for its importance, a brief separate notice. 
 By all who estimate aright man's moral relations, 
 it must be deemed the noblest of all ({ualities. It 
 
 i i 
 
 1 1 
 
 :ii;! 
 
30 
 
 is the chief hnk between the visible and tlie invisi- 
 ble, the clearest impress of the divine upon our 
 being. In the old Puritan life it was ever i)romi- 
 nent. We have already had occasion variously to 
 glance at its workings. We need not say at large, 
 what careful ponderings of duty it undcitook, what 
 bold and uncompromising decisions it rea^'hed, what 
 a lofty superiority to human opinion it manifest- 
 ed, W'hat burdens it bore, or what sacrifices it made. 
 I need not remind you what moral transformations 
 it wrought, how dissoluteness of manners gave 
 place to strictness and sobriety, and a high spir- 
 itual tone, manifest not only in the more elevated 
 walks of life, and in the leading minds, but in the 
 humbler and less cultivated classes. That all was 
 gold that glittered, that there was nothing of cant 
 and hypocrisy, especially at the period when Puri- 
 ti>nism held the reins of civil power, we do not 
 affirm. In the most precious ore from the mine 
 we look for something of alloy. Ever, in the his- 
 tory of our world, when the sons of God come to 
 present themselves before the Lord, Satan comes 
 also among them. Yet Macaulay tells us, that the 
 very army of Cromwell, renowned as it was for 
 valor, was chiefly distinguished *' by the austere 
 morality and the fear of God which pervaded all 
 ranks.'' "It is acknowledged by the most zealous 
 Royalists," he says, " that in that singular camp, no 
 oath was heard, no drunkenness or gambling was 
 seen ; and that, during the long dominion of the 
 soldiery, the property of the peaceable citizen, and 
 
:u 
 
 the honor of woman were held saered.*' To wlial 
 general elevation of Puritan character do facts like 
 these bear witness. 
 
 some directions the scru})les of our fore- 
 
 That 
 
 ni 
 
 fathers were pressed too far, the profoundest rever 
 
 for their virtues d( 
 
 to den 
 
 ence lor tneir virtues uoes not re(|uu'e us to aeny. 
 I can hardly sympathize with them, to give a single 
 example, in their dislike of that sim])le and beauti- 
 ful token of plighted faith, the marriage ring. Yet 
 we must bear in mind the age in which they 
 lived, and the special reason they had for a godly 
 jealousy as touching ill-meaning ceremonies. It 
 was not the mere form that troubled them — so 
 they often testify. It was the import of that form 
 — its associations and snggeslions — its conventional 
 and symbolical power over men. Who does not know 
 that little things may in this way bei^ome great ? 
 Who needs to be told that the rite or the usage 
 which in some circumstances is perfectly harmless, 
 may in others be properly disfiarded as of evil in- 
 fluence ? Not he, surely, who has heard the noble 
 Paul exclaim, " If meat make my brother to 
 offend, I will eat no flesh while the world stand- 
 eth."' 
 
 There is one point, at least, in wliieli we think 
 the descendants of the Pilgrims are in advance of 
 their fathers ; — in their estimate, we mean, of the 
 esthetic element. That was a just analysis of the 
 old philosopher, which resolved all excellence into 
 the true, the beautiful, and the good. And quite 
 as just was that judgment of his which gave to 
 
32 
 
 *^oocl the pro-eminoiu'c So — witli all sclf'-doiiial, 
 even unto inurtyrdoiii — did llie old Puritans. 
 Their error was not in suhordinatini!;, but in uiider- 
 ■>aluin;z; the beanlirul. There is a true Christian 
 use of it, as aocoi-dant with our spiritual aptitudes, 
 as with our eni(>tional and iniai^'inative natui'e. It 
 has been well tei-nied the shadow of vii-tue. In 
 all virtue it inheres, 'We read ol'ten ni the 8ci'ip- 
 tures of the " beauty of lioliiiess." And as God has 
 touched all ei'eation with it, he designed it, doubt- 
 less, not only as itself an innoeent source of enjo}'- 
 ment, but as a help to the soul in its loftier aspira- 
 tions. It has a typical si.^nifieancy. According to 
 that law of correspondence, by wliieh all inferior 
 good has a certain analogy to something higher, 
 we have in all natural loveliness an cnibleni of 
 spiritual. It has, besides, an assimilating iidluence. 
 Its tendency, as it passes before us, is to conform 
 us unto itself. 
 
 " The attentive mind. 
 I3y this liannonious action on its powers. 
 I'ecomes itself harmonious ; wont so oft 
 In outwimt tiiinn;s to meditate the cliarin 
 Of siiered order, soon slie seeics iit Imtuo 
 'i"o find a Icindred order, to exert 
 Witliin herself this elegance of love, 
 This fair inspired deli;,dit; her tempered powers 
 ivefuie at length, and every passion wears 
 A chaster, milder, more attractive mien." 
 
 This was but imperfectly understood by the 
 early Puritans. They restrained unduly, be- 
 sides, what may be called the play-element of our 
 natiu-e. How it struggled for vent may be seen, 
 
33 
 
 we think, even in Cromwell, in those occasional 
 and sometimes inept pleasantries, which Ilnnie and 
 others have recorded. Yet here, again, we must 
 take due account of the times. Wo must remem- 
 ber against what reigning frivolity our forefathers 
 had to contend, and what is the nat\n-al and almost 
 irresistible issue of a great reaction. AVho shall 
 stay the pendulum just midway in the arc of its 
 vibration ? They erred, certainly, on the f^wl'e side. 
 The sternest stoicism is better than unbridled epi- 
 cureanism. If we must choose between the two, 
 give us the unbending gravity of the most rigid 
 old Roundhead — give us even the scru})les which 
 most provoked the merriment of the Cavaliers — 
 rather than that laxness of conscience which has 
 come to question whether there be any "higher 
 law," and that elTeminacy and self-indulgence which 
 leaves to religion often but an empty name. 
 
 We complete our outline as we add, that the 
 Puritan character is marked by strength. That is 
 but to condense into a single statement all that has 
 been said. From the traits already named, nothing 
 else could be inferred. They are all elements of 
 strength,- -the self-reliant individuality that can 
 stand alone against a world — the originality that 
 ventures fearlessly into untried paths — the intelli- 
 gence that walks ever in the sunlight — the con- 
 scientiousness which arms the soul as with a divine 
 energy. To a like result has the whole Puritan 
 history tended. What might of patience, of per- 
 severance, of self-sacrifice, of courage, of achieve- 
 
 j:lii^i'jft 
 
34 
 
 nicnt, did the loii*;- .stni«jj«^do in FiUfjlaiid evince. 
 And liow was stren«;tli increased by it. Well 
 ini^lit the scjjonrncrs at Leydeu say, " It is not 
 with us as with otlicr men, whom small things 
 (;an discourage.'' Klse their I'eet had nevei* 
 trodden tlie soil of llolhmd ; or they had 
 HngercMJ there ; or they had turned away I'rom 
 the forbidding shores of Xew Kngland, to seek a 
 resting-i)lace in a more genial clime. in the 
 Lusiad of Camoens, as Vasco de (iama, on his voy- 
 age of discovery, reaches the ('ai)e of (iood Hope, 
 which never navigator had doubled before, the 
 genius of the hitherto unknown ocean is repre- 
 sented as rising out of the sea, amid tempest and 
 thunder — a huge phantom towering to the clouds 
 — and with terrilic looks and tones warning away 
 the bold adventui'ers. What phantoms were those 
 which warned away our rilgrim Fathers ! The 
 storm-king uiet them on the coast. The famine- 
 fiend was thei-e. The demon of war menaced them. 
 The angel of death spread his dark wing over 
 their dwellings. In three months half their num- 
 ber were sleeping beneath the snows of winter. Yet 
 neither of the stalwart men nor of the gentle women 
 who survived, did a single heart falter. When in 
 the spring the ^Nfayilower retiu-ned to England, not 
 one of them took passage in her. They had found 
 what they sought, "a faith's pure shrine," and 
 " freedom to worship God."' They still clung to 
 the hope with which they sailed from Delft-liaven, 
 "of propagating and advancing the Gospel of the 
 
35 
 
 kiiijidoin of Christ.'' Why should tlioy turn back ? 
 HiirdcMiH and sorrows wore \\\h>]\ thcni. and jicrils 
 aroiuid thoni. \\\\\ wit li a strength })()rn of I'aith. and 
 both ti-ii'd and oidianciMl by all the past, they were 
 (M(ual to the ^rcat (MncrgiMU-y. Kvcmi while their 
 tears were bedewin<;- tin; <i;ravcs of the newly fallen, 
 
 " 'J'lioy Hhouk tin; dcptlis of the desert's gloom 
 With tlic'ir liymiiH of lofty clint'r.'' 
 
 Well was it, both for them and their descend- 
 ants, that the ^u'lowin^ descriptions of Sir AValter 
 Ilaleif^h lured them not tf) the milder skies and 
 fairer landscajx' of (Guiana. Xew Kn<iland was 
 just the region for a new dcvel()i)ment of the 
 Puritan ehara<'ter. It was designed by the Tireat 
 Maker, not as a eoueh of ignoble sloth, or a 
 garden of sensuous delights, but as a field of 
 braeing toil, a i)hysical and moral 1 tattle field. No 
 relaxing tropical heats are upon it. Stei-n wintry 
 blasts have still their mission among its hills. The 
 soil, to great extent, is hard and rough, unmai'ked 
 by alluvial f'ertilit}', and yielding its harvests only 
 to the hand of the diligent. Even now, if men 
 gain a livelihood there, it must be by that sweat of 
 the brow, ^vhich, while it exhausts, by one of na- 
 ture's paradoxes, increases sti'ength ; and by those 
 exercises of keen sagacity, clear judgment, and 
 rigid self-control, so germane to all true manliness 
 and eflectiveness. It was a noble laboratory of 
 character, to which the pilgrim voyagers were led, 
 a matchless stand-point from which to leaven and 
 to mould the whole broad empire of freedom. 
 
 jiplfji 
 
 till 
 
 lift 
 
86 
 
 As wo rejoict! t()-(ljiv ill our hirtli-ri^lit, HretlircMi 
 of the New Kiiuliind Society, let us (lili«;eutly eopy 
 the virtues wliich have nnido it so precious. Xiiy, 
 let us ^'ive to our thoughts and our liopes a still 
 widei" range. With the progress of science and art, 
 and the (tonseijuent facilities for intercomnuuiiea- 
 tion, the \V(M'ld is fast lending to unity. An amal- 
 gam of ehara(!ter looms u[) in the fuliu'e. in which 
 the Puritan element shall, indeed, he prominent, 
 but which shall he enricheil jiiid graced hy what- 
 ever is beautiful ami noble in our <liversilied hu- 
 manity. We may say of it. in the language of the 
 Apocaly[)se concerning the heavenly city, " they 
 shall bring the glory and honor of the nations into 
 it.'' How naturally does this high ideal connect 
 itself with the novel but grateful associations and 
 reciprocities of the present occasion. J^et us kee[) 
 it in view ever, even amid the dearest ancestral 
 memories, and the stron^'est emotions of a laudable 
 
 •ecojrnize in 
 
 pati 
 
 'ly 
 
 every man a brother, but shall best apprehend and 
 advance the tiue brotherhood of the nations. So 
 shall we hasten the coming of tliat day, when 
 
 'Springs the crowning race uf Imnuvii kind.'' 
 
h