64. Gorges, “Briefe Narration,” p.62. He does not give the name of the savage. The identity is established by Bradford, History of Plymouth Plantation (Boston, 1861), pp. 96 f.
65. This I take to be the explanation of the voyages, though he may have returned to England between them. It seems certain that he was on the coast in 1620. Cf. Dormer’s letter in Purchas, Pilgrimes, vol. XIX, pp. 129 ff.; Gorges, “Briefe Narration,” pp. 61 ff.; and Bradford, Plymouth, pp. 95-98.
66. Reprinted by Brown, Genesis, pp. 338-53.
67. Hazard, Hist. Coll., vol. i, pp. 58-81.
68. Osgood, American Colonies, vol. i, pp. 56 ff.
69. Gorges, “Briefe Narration,” p. 64.
70. Ibid., pp. 64 ff.; Documents relating to the Colonial History of State of New York (Albany, 1853), vol. III, p. 4; Thomas Pownall, The Administration of the British Colonies (London, 1777), vol. i, p. 49.
71. Charter in Hazard, Hist. Coll., vol. i, pp. 103 ff.
72. Cf. Osgood, American Colonies, vol. i, pp. 98 ff.
CHAPTER IV
SOME ASPECTS OF PURITANISM
The history of the New England group of colonies was, in the main, shaped throughout the entire prerevolutionary period by the influence of three factors. These were the geographical environment, the Puritan movement in England, and the Mercantile Theory. The first of these has already been discussed, and the last will be more particularly referred to later. As the second was not only a continuing influence during the period, but was the chief determinant in the small settlement of Plymouth, and an element in the great migration to Massachusetts, it must be considered before entering upon the story of those two colonies.
The first difficulty in dealing with the problem of Puritanism is to define the term itself. The earliest appearance of the name seems to have been about 1566, and in the following year a certain London congregation was spoken of as “Puritans or Unspottyd Lambs of the Lord.” The members of this congregation, which met secretly in Plumbers Hall, called their sect “the pure or stainless religion”; and the derivation of the name Puritan, for long a term of reproach, is sufficiently obvious.1 Its application, however, is less so. Part of the confusion is due to the fact that, like “democratic” and many other such words, it has been applied to an attitude toward life, to a broad movement, and to a definite political party. Moreover, between the meeting of those “Unspottyd Lambs” in Plumbers Hall in 1567, and the overthrow of the Puritan Commonwealth of England in 1660, nearly a century elapsed, during which the meaning of the word underwent the changes which time always brings to words of its class, whereas it still continues as a living term in our social and religious vocabulary. Rigidly and briefly to define a word which has thus had a vague and changing content throughout a dozen generations is impossible. To attempt to confine its definition to only one of its former meanings is unhistorical, however desirable it may be that an author should define it as used by himself in his own writings. Not long ago it was fashionable to decry, as showing total lack of scholarship, any attempt to apply the name to the men who founded Plymouth, it being considered as applying solely to those who founded Massachusetts. It may be true that “the Separatists were not Puritans in the original sense of the word”;2 but the word did not retain its original sense, and although Separatist and Nonconformist represent a real difference, the word Puritan may well be used to cover both. The pendulum, indeed, seems now to be swinging the other way, and several writers describe Puritanism broadly as an “attitude of mind,” or as “idealism applied to the solution of contemporary problems.”3 As specific terms for the many sects and minor currents in the great movement, which for a time dominated the history of both the Englands, are by no means lacking, it would seem desirable to retain the use of the word Puritanism in its widest application, and it is so used in the present work.
The idea of unity seems to possess a peculiar fascination for the average human mind. Only a savage or a philosopher may be content with, or rise to, the conception of a pluralistic universe. Moreover, the desire to conform, and to force others to do so, is as typical of the average man as of the average boy.
It is in but few persons, and in rare periods, that the spirit of unrest, of dissatisfaction, of growth, manifests itself so strongly as to overcome the innate tendency toward static conformity. The mediaeval period was essentially, for the most part, one of religious unity. For long, the two great ideas of the Empire and the Church had dominated men’s minds. With the Renaissance and the Reformation, however, arose again, not only nationalities, but individualities. With the growth of the separate nations, developed simultaneously a new sense of individual responsibility in the face of the universe. For the average man during the Middle Ages, the moral, even more than the economic, life had been corporate. Outward conformity to the dogmas and usages of the only church which then represented Christ’s Kingdom upon earth lulled his thoughts, and soothed his conscience. The necessity of belonging to the Church was not forced upon a man merely by fear of persecution or of the public opinion of his own little world. His belief in such a relation, and his ignoring the possibility of any other, had become as innate and instinctive as his belief in the physical laws of the universe by which he guided his daily life. It was not alone the historians of the period who were “content to be deceived, to live in a twilight of fiction,” as “the atmosphere of accredited mendacity thickened.”4 The subtle poison had flowed through the veins of the entire social organism.
As the idea of nationality grew and rooted itself in the mind of the masses, it attracted to itself, by a sort of mental gravitation, the institutions and thoughts of the peoples. Everywhere, the religious reformation had been closely allied with secular politics, and the reformed churches became national. As universal empire had gradually given place to nations, so the universal church was in part broken into state churches, but without any loosening of the bond which bound the individual to them. The idea of the church persisted, and the average man considered separating himself from it almost as one would consider separating one’s self from the civil state of to-day. It was almost as unthinkable and impossible to realize in practice. His life was so interwoven with it, his civil rights, as well as his religious duties, were so involved in his relations to it, that, even if he disagreed with its dogma, disliked its policy, or strove within it to alter both, he had no thought of leaving it. To do so would have been to constitute himself a religious anarch. Not only were the mental inhibitions to the development of such an idea greater than those operating in the case of political anarchy to-day, but the pains and penalties attending the action, both from law and from public opinion, were also greater.5
One of the most dynamic ideas, however, which had come in with the Reformation, was that of the responsibility of the individual to God, both for his own life and for that of others. To those whose minds were open to receive it, the thought came with a force which was almost overwhelming. In the training of youth, it is well recognized that responsibility must be thrown upon them gradually if their characters are to grow normally, and not be warped or broken under sudden strain. But here were men, in many