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CHAPTER I.

Introduction.

HE growth of the English colonies in America was due to causes peculiar to the times. The wilderness was an inviting one, the climate was favorable to race development, society would have no traditionary limits set upon its expansion, and men's needs were pressing. Yet, though the virgin stood before their eyes, whole generations of Northmen were born, lived out their days. and passed away, without heeding the gentle bidding which every western gale bore across the waters. The bridegroom tarried.

All at once, however, Europe stirred, and the North Atlantic was dotted with sails moving westward. Why this restlessness; why this migration; why happened it then instead of before; why did it occur at all? The answer is short and emphatic. So long as men were satisfied with their condition, there was no reason for their moving. But, when a sudden and marvellous expansion of the human intellect occurred; when, under that expansion, old bonds were broken and the ancient systems were left inadequate to supply the new demands of society; when these systems failed to readily adapt themselves to the changed order of things, then life fast became intolerable, and men who were determined upon having something better, were forced to seek elsewhere what they could not find at home. Thus arose something which compelled movement, and as society could only move westward, hence began the great Anglican migration which other impulses from time to time sustained.

The United States of America, then, are results of that mighty force, which, bounding into existence through the throes of the Reformation, still continues its triumphant march. The disintegra

tion of ancient manners, ancient notions, and ancient principles, consequent upon the upheaval of the ancient structure, continued for many generations, until at last it embraced every element of the old European civilization. When this disintegration was ended, however, a process just the contrary set in, and under the cohesive forces of society the different fragments crystallized into new forms and into new organizations. Thus the course of the great movement may be distinguished by two periods: one of destruction, and the other of construction. In the latter the Englishspeaking race is living to-day, but the former continued in England until 1688, or less than two centuries ago, while in America it was not completely at an end until 1776, or about one century ago.

In the British Isles the first great step of the destructive era terminated in the accomplishment of the Reformation proper, when the new conditions of religious life were fixed and settled. Then it ended; but after this period of activity, and before the more amazing one that followed, there occurred what might be termed an interval of volcanic repose. Flames did not shoot toward the zenith, streams of fire did not lay waste the vineyards, nor were the temples overthrown. All this was indeed to come; but for the present, that is to say, from the accession of Elizabeth to the accession of Charles the First, there was, to outward appearance, tranquillity. Men went on cutting and grafting upon the slopes, though at times a tremor ran through the ground, and though the ear, in spite of itself, would turn to catch the smothered muttering that betokened a fast-brimming crater. This interval was characterized by the transition of the lately awakened force from purely religious subjects to those that were purely intellectual; and though it was but a period of transition from one part of the destructive era to another, we behold the constructive forces of society bursting forth in every direction; just as on the sides of Vesuvius we see vegetation pushing its blades through the scarcely cooled lava. Nevertheless, the time is not yet come for the full action of these forces; old systems, which others must replace, still survive, and until they are in ruins, the era of construction cannot be said to have set in.

Accordingly, the next stage is destructive, and, as it proves, is the most destructive of all. The constructive forces cease from

THE GREAT MOVEMENT.

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acting altogether, and the destructive are seen in full possession of the field. This embraces the short period between the accession of Charles the First and the investiture of the Protector, and in the annals of the great Revolution it may be characterized as that in which Free Inquiry advanced in religious matters still further toward the substitution of reason for credulity, and in which, passing to secular subjects, it attacked the existing political structure of society and asserted the supremacy of personal liberty over absolutism. The struggle between these forces was one which, even yet, men shudder at the thought of. The forces of society acted only in violence, and in violence which sent England reeling to the ground. When the conflict was ended, and men paused to take breath and look about them, marvellous were the changes wrought. In religion, freedom of conscience held the ground, and intolerance, or the doctrine that the civil power was at the service of the ecclesiastical in prescribing faith, in regulating doctrine, and in extirpating heresy, had sheathed its sword, or, at best, was standing on a weak defence. Its voice no longer thundered its decrees, but in shrill treble quavered its apologies. In politics, though a dictator "protected" the land, that dictator was an uncrowned and unanointed one, and in every thing he said or did, was careful to ascribe his omnipotence to the people only as the sole source of power.

Absolutism, the world over, has never recovered from the shock then given it; English absolutism from that day has borne the mark of the beast. In commercial matters, the old system of monopoly was overthrown, though the monstrous principle still held its own; and a new system took its place, in which a whole people were substituted as monopolists instead of courtiers and guilds. Though monopoly itself, as we shall see, was as strong as ever, its enjoyment was shared by all the inhabitants of England, and in this change, as in every other that had occurred, one invariable fact presents itself—the emphatic assertion of individuality in matters pertaining to the common weal. In short, control of the social forces was more in the hands of the people, enjoyment of franchises and liberties was much more general, and religion had become a thing of the individual and not of the state.

The Protector, Oliver Cromwell, was, to all appearance, the veriest of dictators, and absolutism seemed to be enthroned in

his person but such were really not the facts.

That wonderful man saw clearly that the absolutism of the past was over, and that the absolutism of which he was the figure was a make-shift ; and, with singular self-control, he set to work to secure to England the advances toward liberty it had gained from the conflict just ended. While the strife was going on, he had kept just ahead of events, with the revolutionary spirit of the day following hard after him; but when, exhausted by its efforts, revolution paused, Cromwell, who never paused, distanced it, and the result was, that, unsustained by public opinion, death caught him with his work unfinished. Nevertheless, the people, whose hesitating steps still carried them forward, did reach his ground in course of time, and the feeble absolutism of the Restoration found itself face to face with an England far more united against it than ever that which confronted Charles I. had been. Indeed, such was now the pervading sense of freedom, and such the universal appreciation of personal rights, that when absolutism, under James II., arrayed itself against liberty for its last struggle, there was no conflict worthy of the name. It threw down the gauntlet only to retire from the lists, and it fled panic-struck from the presence of the warrior it had itself called into the field. Thus the Revolution of 1688 was almost a bloodless revolution; and personal freedom had nothing to do but to take possession of abandoned ground, and to proclaim a constitution which none have disputed from that day to this. Since then the era of construction and enjoyment has been uninterrupted in England, and the last violent effort of the great movement which had been initiated by the Reformation may be said to have there terminated in the Revolution of 1688. The Middle Ages were ended.

This whole movement, from beginning to end, has been unfortunate in its names. Indeed, unless we call it "The Great Movement” or “The Great Revolution," it is nameless: for the term "The Reformation" applies only to a part, and the term "Puritanism," which never expressed but a part of a part, and which at most is the name of a quality or characteristic only, is actually misleading. Used at first to designate anti-formalism in religious matters, and, afterward, what would be called to-day "reform in politics, it has been extended so as to embrace the whole expansion which resulted in substituting freedom of conscience

for credulity, freedom of trade for monopoly, and constitutional freedom for absolutism. This distinction it does not deserve; for Puritanism, as a political force, did not make its appearance until long after the Reformation, and it ended with the death of Cromwell. It was during these two periods that the English people did the most of the task that had been set them to do, and the rest of the work, which was accomplished in 1688, was simply that of garnering the crop. Nevertheless, the final stage is as distinct as either of those which precede it, and to complete the designation of the movement which so changed the character of the English and wrought such great good, we must add to its nomenclature the name of the Revolution of 1688.

The American colonies owed so much to the Great Movement, that it may be well, once for all, and at this point, to set forth the nature of its different phases. We know what the Reformation was, and what it did for all people-it changed the subjects of mental activity, by substituting, as the impelling motive, free inquiry for credulity. But what was Puritanism, and what did it do for England?

It was a reformation of the Reformation; and it left an indelible mark upon English character. Modern England dates from its expiration, and with it ended a heroic age. Politically, it was a revolt of the Middle Class; intellectually and spiritually, it was a violent, uncontrollable expansion of the mind and soul; historically, it was the latest popular development of Free Inquiry in the British Isles. Taking it altogether, it was a convulsive effort toward freedom. The Middle Class wanted representation in the government; they would no longer be left out of every thing but the revenue acts and the press-gang. The Intellectual Class, whose field had been broadened by Free Inquiry, would no longer stay pent up within the schools; and the Religious Class, stimulated by the sight of an open Bible, and frantic from the stings of intolerance, insisted upon absolute freedom of conscience. All three got what they wanted. After the storm was over, England apparently settled down into what she had been; but only in appearance. The divisions of society remained the same, the church resumed her services, parliament betook itself to the old business of granting royal supplies, and the king went out hawking as usual. But there was a change; the ancient life was gone, the