CHAPTER XXVIII.
AN ARRIVAL, A UNIVERSITY, AND A STATE.
“Three things are of the first importance—good men, education, and a settled commonwealth.”
Lord Bacon.
Spite of internecine struggle and transatlantic intrigue, New England walked steadily on in the path towards material prosperity. It was inevitable; for the parents of success were within her borders: essential godliness was in her right hand, and the habit of thrift was in her left. It is very probable that prosperity was helped instead of hindered by the agitation which was begotten of the official acts of the colonial government. The stir served to keep Christendom agog for the latest news from America. “What are these Pilgrims now at?” was the inquiry incessantly on every lip. Thus it was that the name and action of New England became as prominently familiar in the salons of the ultramontanists in Europe, and in the club-rooms of the riotous cavaliers, as in the humble dwellings of the godly Puritans.
Besides, agitation in its turn begot progress. Where there is silence there is death. If the Alps, piled in cold, still sublimity, are the emblem of fat and contented despotism, the ocean is the symbol of democracy; for it is pure and useful only because never motionless.
At all events, the progress of New England was unique and unprecedented. “Nec minor ab exordio,” says Cotton Mather, “nec major incrementis ulla.”[882] Never was any thing more lowly in inception or more mighty in increase. In 1635, twenty ships dropped anchor in Boston and Plymouth harbors;[883] and in that single year three thousand new settlers were added to the Pilgrim colonies.[884] Men came over fast and
“Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
In Vallambrosa, where the Etruscan shades,
High overarched, imbower.”