But the important difference between the two lay in this: The Church of Rome enforces papal dictum; the Puritan imposed Bible law. The difference between the two systems is a great, impassable gulf. Now notice the point: In the Bible the Papacy is denominated as the "MYSTERY OF INIQUITY." The Revised Version substitutes for this reading, another, "THE MYSTERY OF LAWLESSNESS." This is the name which, by Infinite Wisdom given, defines the character of the "beast." She is in very truth the MYSTERY OF LAWLESSNESS, for she recognizes no law in the heavens above, in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth. She is utterly and entirely lawless. In the place of law she substitutes the fiat of the supreme pontiff. Thus the happiness and misery of the millions of her devotees are intrusted to the whim, the caprice, the fitful meanderings of a single mind. Nothing can be worse than this. It is despotism of the worst kind.
But how stands the case with the Puritans? They took the Bible for their written constitution, and they proceeded to enforce Bible law (as understood by them) by civil force. They imposed the doctrines of the Bible, as they construed them, from the written word. It is true that God never gave the Bible for any such purpose. It is true that in doing this very thing they were violating the precepts of that very word which they sought to enforce. All of this is so, and it militates against them. But law of any kind is immeasurably superior to dictum. And divine law is most certainly an improvement over human dictum.
This clearly shows that, although Puritanism enforced by civil power is an unpleasant dose, it is, nevertheless, in principle not nearly so bad as Roman Catholicism.
Again, I quote from Mr. C. F. Adams, whose ideas upon the subject are most logical and excellent:—
The early Massachusetts community was, in its essence, a religious organization. Church and State were one; and the Church dominated the State. The franchise was an incident to church membership. The minister—"the unworthy prophet of the Lord"—was the head of the church. There was a deep significance, as there may have been a bitter sneer, in Blackstone's parting shot as he left Boston, in which the "lord bishops" were joined with the "lord brethren." At the point it had now reached, the Reformation of the previous century had resulted in practically substituting, for a time, many little popes and little bishops for the one pope and the few great bishops. The fundamental principle of that Reformation had been the paramount authority of the Holy Scriptures as a rule or guide in life, as opposed to the dictation of popes, synods, and councils. The human mind, after centuries of implicit obedience, had revolted; and, in the revolt, the reaction, as usual, was complete. Instead of unquestioning submission to human authority, no human authority whatever was allowed to intervene between man and God's word. . . .
Thus God's word was beyond question, and it only remained to interpret it and declare its meaning in any given case; but the interpreting and declaring were the function of the clergy. The "lord brethren" had thus been substituted for the "lord bishops"—many local popes for the one at Rome. . . . The written word then became matter for judicial construction; but, like any other written law, when once construed, and its meaning ascertained by competent and recognized authority, it was held by common consent to be the rule in force. . . .
The Hebrew Bible was, then, the fundamental religious law—the spiritual constitution, as it were,—of the Puritan community. The clergy were the ordained and constituted expounders of the law—the Supreme Theological Court. Before them and by them as a tribunal, each point at issue was elaborately and learnedly discussed; reasons were advanced and authorities cited for each decision they rendered. Behind their decisions was the word; behind the word was God and his hereafter. The spiritual organization was complete. . . . There was God, the Constitution, and the court—and the clergy were the court.
Having now considered the case of the Puritans in the above historical jury room, I think that an honest verdict, consonant with the facts in the case, can be arrived at, namely, that, in principle, the Puritans fell considerably short of being what Christians ought to be, and not quite as bad as Papists. And there this phase of the subject may well be dropped.