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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. ly errata Bd to nt ne pelure, ipon d 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 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^ 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 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 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'; 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;