as above, so below ?
The year of 1660, saw the restoration of the monarchy with the crowning of Charles II. A country still dealing with the grinding of great religious tectonic plates and over ten years of Cromwellian puritanism accepted the new king as a necessary stabilising force.
The English tree of knowledge sprang forth refreshed; as 1660 also saw the founding of The Royal Society, or, to give it its more explanatory title: The Royal Society of London for the improvement of Natural Knowledge .
England may have had a monarch once more, but the tide of communication could not be stopped. This is evidenced by The Royal Society's motto: Nullius in verba (Take nobody's word for it.) The idea now was to gain knowledge through experiment. The idea of simple authority as the arbiter of things, for so long a mainstay of all human culture, was beginning to slowly drown beneath the wash of new ideas.
One of the aims of the Royal Society would be to continue the work of Francis Bacon, who was hugely influential in developing what would become standard scientific methodology: starting with a hypothesis (an idea that offers an explanation of something), you conduct experiments to gain information to support your idea.
Science became better communication. God might refuse to answer questions, but the Universe much more generously began to spill her secrets once engaged in constructive conversation.
As the reign of the the merry monarch took shape, the natural philosophers of the nation were merrily digging up new information and new ideas using the latest technology. Isaac Newton developed his telescope and used it to reflect his theories of gravity and planetary motion, while Robert Hooke would publish his book Micrographia, which contained drawings and notes on the world of the small that had previously been hidden in plain sight:
So nat'ralists observe, a flea
Hath smaller fleas that on him prey;
And these have smaller fleas to bite 'em
And so proceeds ad infinitum.
As the 17th century drew to a close, people were reaching the conclusion that, in a land of many religious ideas, tolerance might be a good and practical idea. Charles II himself was of this view and 1689 would see John Locke write his "letter concerning toleration" .
Fine words unfortunately are apt to achieve little without action, and the kind of people who push tolerance only for their own beliefs became very worked up by the ascension to the throne of James II in 1685, because of his Catholic tastes and perceived French friendliness. This agitation would result in the glorious revolution of 1688 when William of Orange would lead a Dutch invasion fleet as he was welcomed by his English supporters.
John Locke could be criticised for being slow to publish, but the fact remains that the simple seed of tolerance is, in all places and all times, often difficult to cultivate. It is impossible to cultivate without better communication.
As the century turned, the newly formed Bank of England, would funnel the necessary cash to re-build England's navy after recent defeats to France. This re-armament, along with the boost for associated industries, would show the great financial importance of a strong attack force. (In more modern times, this kind of economic model would have to be sold to the people as defence, an illuminating example of linguistic legerdemain. Of course, if you train people not to ask or check, then this kind of thing is a whole lot easier).
The 18th century would see the first turnings of the Industrial Revolution as time and tide would combine to produce new wonders, technological marvels, and basically a whole lot of machines that would spin gold.
All of this industry would be floated on the new freedom of information. The first years of the century would see the first daily newspapers begin to be published in England. Not long after, the fruits of the new science would be the likes of the steam engine, the mercury thermometer, and the diving bell. Science had enslaved Vulcan, and was challenging Neptune.
During this frenzy of invention the very country itself was forged anew as the Kingdom of Great Britain came into being in 1707.
Naturally, people had to try to deal with this deluge of information and ideas, and, as always, human beings would create invented worlds that could mirror and reflect on what was happening in the real world.
1719 saw the publication of Robinson Crusoe , and five years later Gulliver's Travels would be Swift's response to both Crusoe and the brave new world he represented. Both of these novels would show men cast adrift and their struggle to survive in unknown waters. Crusoe is a more straight-forward tale, that can be interpretated as a description and vindication of the justness of Protestant Anglo-Saxon colonisation. Gulliver's travel's, on the other hand, is a Houyhnhnm of a different colour, and raises the explanatory art of satire to new, Laputian heights.
Gulliver encounters the tiny people of Lilliput who have huge differences of opinion over which end of an egg should be broken first. You can imagine the hero's shocked disbelief mirroring that of a Japanese being informed that both Catholics and Protestants are Christians.
And when Gulliver visits Laputa, he finds a society obsessed with science, but unable to turn it to practical purpose. (A reasonable criticism that is still valid today, as the defence industries still continue to dominate far too much scientific research).
Swift was satirising the Royal Society and its random experiments, but a lot of valuable knowledge has been gained by people's natural sense of random experiment. Indeed, we often can not predict the results of our experiments, or even clearly explain where our own ideas have come from: Swift's own religious liberty flowered on the same tree of knowledge that was now producing new branches of science.
The natural worries of those like Swift would continue to occur throughout British history, and will certainly continue into the future. It was, and is, perfectly normal for science's scattered bags and opened, discarded cans to demand scrutiny. But the cats have long spread out and are breeding, and the worms are slowly but surely burrowing into secret places. Communication's rise can be hindered but not stopped; and in the Britain of the 18th century, not just the British Navy's, but all the country's boats were being lifted and moved by the steady waves of commerce, intellectual freedom and technology.
Like all tides, the swell of the British Enlightenment might retreat for a while but it always came back strong again. It would push on around the globe.
The strength of this massive liquid movement would eventually push great pieces of the tree of knowledge into the Atlantic and carry them across to the New World of the Americas. There, the tree of knowledge would be eagerly transplanted into new and fertile ground where it would flourish even better than before.
For the natural culmination of Britain's tide of communication would literally require a New England.
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