Book: The Beginnings of New England

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The spirit of revolt against the hierarchy, though broken and repressed
thus terribly by the measures of Innocent III., continued to live on
obscurely in sequestered spots, in the mountains of Savoy, and Bosnia,
and Bohemia, ready on occasion to spring into fresh and vigorous life.
In the following century Protestant ideas were rapidly germinating in
England, alike in baron's castle, in yeoman's farmstead, in citizen's
shop, in the cloistered walks of the monastery. Henry Knighton,
writing in the time of Richard II., declares, with the exaggeration of
impatience, that every second man you met was a Lollard, or "babbler,"
for such was the nickname given to these free-thinkers, of whom the most
eminent was John Wyclif, professor at Oxford, and rector of Lutterworth,
greatest scholar of the age. [Sidenote: Wyclif and the Lollards]

The career of this man is a striking commentary upon the difference
between England and continental Europe in the Middle Ages. Wyclif denied
transubstantiation, disapproved of auricular confession, opposed the
payment of Peter's pence, taught that kings should not be subject to
prelates, translated the Bible into English and circulated it among the
people, and even denounced the reigning pope as Antichrist; yet he was
not put to death, because there was as yet no act of parliament for the
burning of heretics, and in England things must be done according to the
laws which the people had made. [1] Pope Gregory XI. issued five bulls
against him, addressed to the king, the archbishop of Canterbury, and
the university of Oxford; but their dictatorial tone offended the
national feeling, and no heed was paid to them. Seventeen years after
Wyclif's death, the statute for burning heretics was passed, and the
persecution of Lollards began. It was feeble and ineffectual, however.
Lollardism was never trampled out in England as Catharism was trampled
out in France. Tracts of Wyclif and passages from his translation of
the Bible were copied by hand and secretly passed about to be read on
Sundays in the manor-house, or by the cottage fireside after the day's
toil was over. The work went on quietly, but not the less effectively,
until when the papal authority was defied by Henry VIII., it soon became
apparent that England was half-Protestant already. It then appeared
also that in this Reformation there were two forces cooperating,--the
sentiment of national independence which would not brook dictation from
Rome, and the Puritan sentiment of revolt against the hierarchy in
general. The first sentiment had found expression again and again in
refusals to pay tribute to Rome, in defiance of papal bulls, and in the
famous statutes of _praemunire_, which made it a criminal offence to
acknowledge any authority in England higher than the crown. The revolt
of Henry VIII. was simply the carrying out of these acts of Edward I.
and Edward III. to their logical conclusion. It completed the detachment
of England from the Holy Roman Empire, and made her free of all the
world. Its intent was political rather than religious. Henry, who wrote
against Martin Luther, was far from wishing to make England a Protestant
country. Elizabeth, who differed from her father in not caring a straw
for theology, was by temperament and policy conservative. Yet England
could not cease to be Papist without ceasing in some measure to be
Catholic; nor could she in that day carry on war against Spain without
becoming a leading champion of Protestantism. The changes in creed and
ritual wrought by the government during this period were cautious and
skilful; and the resulting church of England, with its long line of
learned and liberal divines, has played a noble part in history.
[Sidenote: Political character of Henry VIII's revolt against Rome]

But along with this moderate Protestantism espoused by the English
government, as consequent upon the assertion of English national
independence, there grew up the fierce uncompromising democratic
Protestantism of which the persecuted Lollards had sown the seeds. This
was not the work of government. [Sidenote: The yeoman, Hugh Latimer]

By the side of Henry VIII. stands the sublime figure of Hugh Latimer,
most dauntless of preachers, the one man before whose stern rebuke the
headstrong and masterful Tudor monarch quailed. It was Latimer
that renewed the work of Wyclif. and in his life as well as in his
martyrdom,--to use his own words of good cheer uttered while the fagots
were kindling around him,--lighted "such a candle in England as by God's
grace shall never be put out." This indomitable man belonged to that
middle-class of self-governing, self-respecting yeomanry that has been
the glory of free England and free America. He was one of the sturdy
race that overthrew French chivalry at Crecy and twice drove the
soldiery of a tyrant down the slope of Bunker Hill. In boyhood he worked
on his father's farm and helped his mother to milk the thirty kine; he
practised archery on the village green, studied in the village school,
went to Cambridge, and became the foremost preacher of Christendom. Now
the most thorough and radical work of the English Reformation was done
by this class of men of which Latimer was the type. It was work that was
national in its scope, arousing to fervent heat the strong religious
and moral sentiment of the people, and hence it soon quite outran the
cautious and conservative policy of the government, and tended to
introduce changes extremely distasteful to those who wished to keep
England as nearly Catholic as was consistent with independence of the
pope. Hence before the end of Elizabeth's reign, we find the crown set
almost as strongly against Puritanism as against Romanism. Hence, too,
when under Elizabeth's successors the great decisive struggle between
despotism and liberty was inaugurated, we find all the tremendous force
of this newly awakened religious enthusiasm cooperating with the English
love of self-government and carrying it under Cromwell to victory. From
this fortunate alliance of religious and political forces has come all
the noble and fruitful work of the last two centuries in which men of
English speech have been labouring for the political regeneration of
mankind. But for this alliance of forces, it is quite possible that the
fateful seventeenth century might have seen despotism triumphant in
England as on the continent of Europe, and the progress of civilization
indefinitely arrested. [Sidenote: The moment of Cromwell's triumph was
the most critical moment in history]

In illustration of this possibility, observe what happened in France
at the very time when the victorious English tendencies were shaping
themselves in the reign of Elizabeth. In France there was a strong
Protestant movement, but it had no such independent middle-class to
support it as that which existed in England; nor had it been able to
profit by such indispensable preliminary work as that which Wyclif had
done; the horrible slaughter of the Albigenses had deprived France of
the very people who might have played a part in some way analogous to
that of the Lollards. Consequently the Protestant movement in France
failed to become a national movement. Against the wretched Henry III who
would have temporized with it, and the gallant Henry IV who honestly
espoused it, the oppressed peasantry and townsmen made common cause by
enlisting under the banner of the ultra-Catholic Guises. The mass of
the people saw nothing in Protestantism but an idea favoured by the
aristocracy and which they could not comprehend. Hence the great king
who would have been glad to make France a Protestant country could only
obtain his crown by renouncing his religion, while seeking to protect
it by his memorable Edict of Nantes. But what a generous despot could
grant, a bigoted despot might revoke; and before another century had
elapsed, the good work done by Henry IV. was undone by Louis XIV., the
Edict of Nantes was set aside, the process of casting out the most
valuable political element in the community was carried to completion,
and seven percent of the population of France was driven away and added
to the Protestant populations of northern Germany and England and
America. The gain to these countries and the damage to France was far
greater than the mere figures would imply; for in determining the
character of a community a hundred selected men and women are more
potent than a thousand men and women taken at random. Thus while the
Reformation in France reinforced to some extent the noble army of
freemen, its triumphs were not to be the triumphs of Frenchmen, but of
the race which has known how to enlist under its banner the forces that
fight for free thought, free speech, and self-government, and all that
these phrases imply. [Sidenote: Contrast with France; fate of the
Huguenots]

In view of these facts we may see how tremendous was the question at
stake with the Puritans of the seventeenth century. Everywhere else the
Roman idea seemed to have conquered or to be conquering, while they
seemed to be left as the forlorn hope of the human race. But from the
very day when Oliver Cromwell reached forth his mighty arm to stop the
persecutions in Savoy, the victorious English idea began to change the
face of things. The next century saw William Pitt allied with Frederick
of Prussia to save the work of the Reformation in central Europe and set
in motion the train of events that were at last to make the people of
the Teutonic fatherland a nation. At that same moment the keenest
minds in France were awaking to the fact that in their immediate
neighbourhood, separated from them only by a few miles of salt water,
was a country where people were equal in the eye of the law. It was the
ideas of Locke and Milton, of Vane and Sidney, that, when transplanted
into French soil, produced that violent but salutary Revolution which
has given fresh life to the European world. And contemporaneously with
all this, the American nation came upon the scene, equipped as no
other nation had ever been, for the task of combining sovereignty with
liberty, indestructible union of the whole with indestructible life in
the parts. The English idea has thus come to be more than national,
it has become imperial. It has come to rule, and it has come to stay.
[Sidenote: Victory of the English Idea]

We are now in a position to answer the question when the Roman Empire
came to an end, in so far as it can be answered at all. It did not come
to its end at the hands of an Odovakar in the year 476, or of a Mahomet
II in 1453, or of a Napoleon in 1806. It has been coming to its end as
the Roman idea of nation-making has been at length decisively overcome
by the English idea. For such a fact it is impossible to assign a date,
because it is not an event but a stage in the endless procession
of events. But we can point to landmarks on the way. Of movements
significant and prophetic there have been many. The whole course of the
Protestant reformation, from the thirteenth century to the nineteenth,
is coincident with the transfer of the world's political centre of
gravity from the Tiber and the Rhine to the Thames and the Mississippi.
The whole career of the men who speak English has within this period
been the most potent agency in this transfer. In these gigantic
processes of evolution we cannot mark beginnings or endings by years,
hardly even by centuries. But among the significant events which
prophesied the final triumph of the English over the Roman idea, perhaps
the most significant--the one which marks most incisively the dawning
of a new era--was the migration of English Puritans across the Atlantic
Ocean, to repeat in a new environment and on a far grander scale the
work which their forefathers had wrought in Britain. The voyage of the
Mayflower was not in itself the greatest event in this migration; but
it serves to mark the era, and it is only when we study it in the mood
awakened by the general considerations here set forth that we can
properly estimate the historic importance of the great Puritan Exodus.
[Sidenote: Significance of the Puritan Exodus]




CHAPTER II.

THE PURITAN EXODUS.


In the preceding chapter I endeavoured to set forth and illustrate some
of the chief causes which have shifted the world's political centre of
gravity from the Mediterranean and the Rhine to the Atlantic and the
Mississippi; from the men who spoke Latin to the men who speak English.
In the course of the exposition we began to catch glimpses of the
wonderful significance of the fact that--among the people who had
first suggested the true solution of the difficult problem of making a
powerful nation without sacrificing local self-government--when the
supreme day of trial came, the dominant religious sentiment was arrayed
on the side of political freedom and against political despotism. If we
consider merely the territorial area which it covered, or the numbers
of men slain in its battles, the war of the English parliament against
Charles I. seems a trivial affair when contrasted with the gigantic
but comparatively insignificant work of barbarians like Jinghis or
Tamerlane. But if we consider the moral and political issues involved,
and the influence of the struggle upon the future welfare of mankind,
we soon come to see that there never was a conflict of more world-wide
importance than that from which Oliver Cromwell came out victorious. It
shattered the monarchical power in England at a time when monarchical
power was bearing down all opposition in the other great countries of
Europe. It decided that government by the people and for the people
should not then perish from the earth. It placed free England in a
position of such moral advantage that within another century the
English Idea of political life was able to react most powerfully upon
continental Europe. It was the study of English institutions by such men
as Montesquieu and Turgot, Voltaire and Rousseau, that gave shape and
direction to the French Revolution. That violent but wholesome clearing
of the air, that tremendous political and moral awakening, which ushered
in the nineteenth century in Europe, had its sources in the spirit
which animated the preaching of Latimer, the song of Milton, the solemn
imagery of Bunyan, the political treatises of Locke and Sidney, the
political measures of Hampden and Pym. The noblest type of modern
European statesmanship, as represented by Mazzini and Stein, is the
spiritual offspring of seventeenth-century Puritanism. To speak of
Naseby and Marston Moor as merely English victories would be as
absurd as to restrict the significance of Gettysburg to the state of
Pennsylvania. If ever there were men who laid down their lives in the
cause of all mankind, it was those grim old Ironsides whose watchwords
were texts from Holy Writ, whose battle-cries were hymns of praise.
[Sidenote: Influence of Puritanism upon modern Europe]

It was to this unwonted alliance of intense religious enthusiasm with
the instinct of self-government and the spirit of personal independence
that the preservation of English freedom was due. When James I. ascended
the English throne, the forces which prepared the Puritan revolt had
been slowly and quietly gathering strength among the people for at least
two centuries. The work which Wyclif had begun in the fourteenth century
had continued to go on in spite of occasional spasmodic attempts to
destroy it with the aid of the statute passed in 1401 for the burning
of heretics. The Lollards can hardly be said at any time to have
constituted a sect, marked off from the established church by the
possession of a system of doctrines held in common. The name by which
they were known was a nickname which might cover almost any amount
of diversity in opinion, like the modern epithets "free-thinker" and
"agnostic." The feature which characterized the Lollards in common was a
bold spirit of inquiry which led them, in spite of persecution, to read
Wyclif's English Bible and call in question such dogmas and rites of the
church as did not seem to find warrant in the sacred text. Clad in long
robes of coarse red wool, barefoot, with pilgrim's staff in hand, the
Lollard preachers fared to and fro among the quaint Gothic towns and
shaded hamlets, setting forth the word of God wherever they could find
listeners, now in the parish church or under the vaulted roof of the
cathedral, now in the churchyard or market-place, or on some green
hillside. During the fifteenth century persecution did much to check
this open preaching, but passages from Wyclif's tracts and texts from
the Bible were copied by hand and passed about among tradesmen and
artisans, yeomen and plough-boys, to be pondered over and talked about
and learned by heart. It was a new revelation to the English people,
this discovery of the Bible. Christ and his disciples seemed to come
very near when the beautiful story of the gospels was first read in
the familiar speech of every-day life. Heretofore they might well have
seemed remote and unreal, just as the school-boy hardly realizes that
the Cato and Cassius over whom he puzzles in his Latin lessons were once
living men like his father and neighbours, and not mere nominatives
governing a verb, or ablatives of means or instrument. Now it became
possible for the layman to contrast the pure teachings of Christ with
the doctrines and demeanour of the priests and monks to whom the
spiritual guidance of Englishmen had been entrusted. Strong and
self-respecting men and women, accustomed to manage their own affairs,
could not but be profoundly affected by the contrast. [Sidenote: Work of
the Lollards]

While they were thus led more and more to appeal to the Bible as the
divine standard of right living and right thinking, at the same time
they found in the sacred volume the treasures of a most original and
noble literature unrolled before them; stirring history and romantic
legend, cosmical theories and priestly injunctions, profound metaphysics
and pithy proverbs, psalms of unrivalled grandeur and pastorals of
exquisite loveliness, parables fraught with solemn meaning, the mournful
wisdom of the preacher, the exultant faith of the apostle, the matchless
eloquence of Job and Isaiah, the apocalyptic ecstasy of St. John. At a
time when there was as yet no English literature for the common people,
this untold wealth of Hebrew literature was implanted in the English
mind as in a virgin soil. Great consequences have flowed from the fact
that the first truly popular literature in England--the first which
stirred the hearts of all classes of people, and filled their minds with
ideal pictures and their every-day speech with apt and telling phrases--
was the literature comprised within the Bible. The superiority of the
common English version of the Bible, made in the reign of James I., over
all other versions, is a fact generally admitted by competent critics.
The sonorous Latin of the Vulgate is very grand, but in sublimity of
fervour as in the unconscious simplicity of strength it is surpassed
by the English version, which is scarcely if at all inferior to the
original, while it remains to-day, and will long remain, the noblest
monument of English speech. The reason for this is obvious. The common
English version of the Bible was made by men who were not aiming at
literary effect, but simply gave natural expression to the feelings
which for several generations had clustered around the sacred text. They
spoke with the voice of a people, which is more than the voice of the
most highly gifted man. They spoke with the voice of a people to whom
the Bible had come to mean all that it meant to the men who wrote it. To
the Englishmen who listened to Latimer, to the Scotchmen who listened
to Knox, the Bible more than filled the place which in modern times
is filled by poem and essay, by novel and newspaper and scientific
treatise. To its pages they went for daily instruction and comfort,
with its strange Semitic names they baptized their children, upon its
precepts, too often misunderstood and misapplied, they sought to build
up a rule of life that might raise them above the crude and unsatisfying
world into which they were born. [Sidenote: The English version of the
Bible]

It would be wrong to accredit all this awakening of spiritual life in
England to Wyclif and the Lollards, for it was only after the Bible, in
the translations of Tyndall and Coverdale, had been made free to the
whole English people in the reign of Edward VI. that its significance
began to be apparent; and it was only a century later, in the time of
Cromwell and Milton, that its full fruition was reached. It was with the
Lollards, however, that the spiritual awakening began and was continued
until its effects, when they came, were marked by surprising maturity
and suddenness. Because the Lollards were not a clearly defined sect, it
was hard to trace the manifold ramifications of their work. During the
terrible Wars of the Roses, contemporary chroniclers had little or
nothing to say about the labours of these humble men, which seemed
of less importance than now, when we read them in the light of their
world-wide results. From this silence some modern historians have
carelessly inferred that the nascent Protestantism of the Lollards had
been extinguished by persecution under the Lancastrian kings, and was in
nowise continuous with modern English Protestantism. Nothing could be
more erroneous. The extent to which the Lollard leaven had permeated all
classes of English society was first clearly revealed when Henry VIII.
made his domestic affairs the occasion for a revolt against the Papacy.
Despot and brute as he was in many ways, Henry had some characteristics
which enabled him to get on well with his people. He not only
represented the sentiment of national independence, but he had a truly
English reverence for the forms of law. In his worst acts he relied upon
the support of his Parliament, which he might in various ways cajole or
pack, but could not really enslave. In his quarrel with Rome he could
have achieved but little, had he not happened to strike a chord of
feeling to which the English people, trained by this slow and subtle
work of the Lollards, responded quickly and with a vehemence upon which
he had not reckoned. As if by magic, the fabric of Romanism was broken
to pieces in England, monasteries were suppressed and their abbots
hanged, the authority of the Pope was swept away, and there was no
powerful party, like that of the Guises in France to make such sweeping
measures the occasion for civil war. The whole secret of Henry's swift
success lay in the fact that the English people were already more than
half Protestant in temper, and needed only an occasion for declaring
themselves. Hence, as soon as Catholic Henry died, his youthful son
found himself seated on the throne of a Protestant nation. The terrible
but feeble persecution which followed under Mary did much to strengthen
the extreme Protestant sentiment by allying it with the outraged feeling
of national independence. The bloody work of the grand-daughter of
Ferdinand and Isabella, the doting wife of Philip II., was rightly felt
to be Spanish work; and never, perhaps, did England feel such a sense of
relief as on the auspicious day which welcomed to the throne the great
Elizabeth, an Englishwoman in every fibre, and whose mother withal was
the daughter of a plain country gentleman. But the Marian persecution
not only increased the strength of the extreme Protestant sentiment, but
indirectly it supplied it with that Calvinistic theology which was to
make it indomitable. Of the hundreds of ministers and laymen who fled
from England in 1555 and the two following years, a great part found
their way to Geneva, and thus came under the immediate personal
influence of that man of iron who taught the very doctrines for which
their souls were craving, and who was then at the zenith of his power.
[Sidenote: Secret of Henry VIII.'s swift success in his revolt against
Rome] [Sidenote: Effects of the persecution under Mary]

Among all the great benefactors of mankind the figure of Calvin is
perhaps the least attractive. He was, so to speak, the constitutional
lawyer of the Reformation, with vision as clear, with head as cool, with
soul as dry, as any old solicitor in rusty black that ever dwelt in
chambers in Lincoln's Inn. His sternness was that of the judge who
dooms a criminal to the gallows. His theology had much in it that is in
striking harmony with modern scientific philosophy, and much in it, too,
that the descendants of his Puritan converts have learned to loathe as
sheer diabolism. It is hard for us to forgive the man who burned Michael
Servetus, even though it was the custom of the time to do such things
and the tender-hearted Melanchthon found nothing to blame in it. It is
not easy to speak of Calvin with enthusiasm, as it comes natural to
speak of the genial, whole-souled, many-sided, mirth-and-song-loving
Luther. Nevertheless it would be hard to overrate the debt which mankind
owe to Calvin. The spiritual father of Coligny, of William the Silent,
and of Cromwell must occupy a foremost rank among the champions of
modern democracy. Perhaps not one of the mediaeval popes was more
despotic in temper than Calvin; but it is not the less true that the
promulgation of his theology was one of the longest steps that mankind
have taken toward personal freedom. Calvinism left the individual man
alone in the presence of his God. His salvation could not be wrought by
priestly ritual, but only by the grace of God abounding in his soul; and
wretched creature that he felt himself to be, through the intense moral
awakening of which this stern theology was in part the expression, his
soul was nevertheless of infinite value, and the possession of it was
the subject of an everlasting struggle between the powers of heaven and
the powers of hell. In presence of the awful responsibility of life, all
distinctions of rank and fortune vanished; prince and pauper were alike
the helpless creatures of Jehovah and suppliants for his grace. Calvin
did not originate these doctrines; in announcing them he was but setting
forth, as he said, the Institutes of the Christian religion; but in
emphasizing this aspect of Christianity, in engraving it upon men's
minds with that keen-edged logic which he used with such unrivalled
skill, Calvin made them feel, as it had perhaps never been felt before,
the dignity and importance of the individual human soul. It was a
religion fit to inspire men who were to be called upon to fight for
freedom, whether in the marshes of the Netherlands or on the moors of
Scotland. In a church, moreover, based upon such a theology there was
no room for prelacy. Each single church tended to become an independent
congregation of worshippers, constituting one of the most effective
schools that has ever existed for training men in local self-government.
[Sidenote: Calvin's theology in its political bearings]

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