grim and
merciless, yet now and then relieved by a sudden gleam of humour,--and
all in a style that is usually uncouth and harsh, but sometimes bursts
forth in eloquence worthy of Bunyan,--we are told how the founders of
New England are soldiers of Christ enlisted in a holy war, and how they
must "march manfully on till all opposers of Christ's kingly power be
abolished." "And as for you who are called to sound forth his silver
trumpets, blow loud and shrill to this chiefest treble tune--for the
armies of the great Jehovah are at hand." "He standeth not as an idle
spectator beholding his people's ruth and their enemies' rage, but as an
actor in all actions, to bring to naught the desires of the wicked, ...
having also the ordering of every weapon in its first produce, guiding
every shaft that flies, leading each bullet to his place of settling,
and weapon to the wound it makes." To men engaged in such a crusade
against the powers of evil, nothing could seem insignificant or trivial;
for, as Johnson continues, in truly prophetic phrase, "the Lord Christ
intends to achieve greater matters by this little handful than the world
is aware of." [Sidenote: Edward Johnson]
The general sentiment of the early New England writers was like that
of the "Wonder-working Providence," though it did not always find such
rhapsodic expression. It has left its impress upon the minds of their
children's children down to our own time, and has affected the opinions
held about them by other people. It has had something to do with a
certain tacit assumption of superiority on the part of New Englanders,
upon which the men and women of other communities have been heard
to comment in resentful and carping tones. There has probably never
existed, in any age or at any spot on the earth's surface, a group of
people that did not take for granted its own preeminent excellence. Upon
some such assumption, as upon an incontrovertible axiom, all historical
narratives, from the chronicles of a parish to the annals of an empire,
alike proceed. But in New England it assumed a form especially apt to
provoke challenge. One of its unintentional effects was the setting up
of an unreal and impossible standard by which to judge the acts and
motives of the Puritans of the seventeenth century. We come upon
instances of harshness and cruelty, of narrow-minded bigotry, and
superstitious frenzy; and feel, perhaps, a little surprised that
these men had so much in common
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