from the best of the Puritan gentry; but their original
character had been somewhat modified by changed conditions
of life. A harsh and exacting creed, with its
stiff formalism and its prohibition of wholesome recreation;
excess in the pursuit of gain—the only resource
left to energies robbed of their natural play; the
struggle for existence on a hard and barren soil;
and the isolation of a narrow village life,—joined
to produce, in the meaner sort, qualities which were
unpleasant, and sometimes repulsive. Puritanism
was not an unmixed blessing. Its view of human
nature was dark, and its attitude towards it one of
repression. It strove to crush out not only what
is evil, but much that is innocent and salutary.
Human nature so treated will take its revenge, and
for every vice that it loses find another instead.
Nevertheless, while New England Puritanism bore its
peculiar crop of faults, it produced also many good
and sound fruits. An uncommon vigor, joined to
the hardy virtues of a masculine race, marked the New
England type. The sinews, it is true, were hardened
at the expense of blood and flesh,—and
this literally as well as figuratively; but the staple
of character was a sturdy conscientiousness, an undespairing
courage, patriotism, public spirit, sagacity, and
a strong good sense. A great change, both for
better and for worse, has since come over it, due
largely to reaction against the unnatural rigors of
the past. That mixture, which is now too common,
of cool emotions with excitable brains, was then rarely
seen. The New England colonies abounded in high
examples of public and private virtue, though not always
under the most prepossessing forms. They were
conspicuous, moreover, for intellectual activity,
and were by no means without intellectual eminence.
Massachusetts had produced at least two men whose fame
had crossed the sea,—Edwards, who out of
the grim theology of Calvin mounted to sublime heights
of mystical speculation; and Franklin, famous already
by his discoveries in electricity. On the other
hand, there were few genuine New Englanders who, however
personally modest, could divest themselves of the
notion that they belonged to a people in an especial
manner the object of divine approval; and this self-righteousness,
along with certain other traits, failed to commend
the Puritan colonies to the favor of their fellows.
Then, as now, New England was best known to her neighbors
by her worst side.
In one point, however, she found general applause. She was regarded as the most military among the British colonies. This reputation was well founded, and is easily explained. More than all the rest, she lay open to attack. The long waving line of the New England border, with its lonely hamlets and scattered farms, extended from the Kennebec to beyond the Connecticut, and was everywhere vulnerable to the guns and tomahawks of the neighboring French and their savage allies. The colonies towards the south had thus far been safe