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A public-domain text about Boston, accessioned whole so the archive can quote it.","text_extract":"illiilJiiUli \n\n\nHitiiMinDtiuiuaiutiaiiiMaUB \n\n\n« ill 1 1 11 \n\nli h ill! 1 \n\n\n! Ml \n\n\ninii-iiimiinnii \n\n\n;i(UtiilUi||UiiU!{l!«ii! \n\n\nGLAND \nRCHES \n\n\nDOLORES BACON \n\n\ni)inii!iinliiiiiiiiliiiisiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiniiiM(iiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii)iii>M!iitiiiiii)iilii< \n\n\nLIBRARY OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY \n\nPRINCETON, N. J. \n\n\nPurchased by the \nMrs. Robert Lenox Kennedy Church History Fund. \n\nBR 530 .bT1706 \nBacon, Mrs. Mary Schell \nHoke, 1870- ^^^^11 \n\nOld New England churches an^i \ntheir children ^^ \n\n\nBOOKS BY MRS. DOLORES BACON \n\nCRUMBS AND HIS TIMES \n\nOLD NEW ENGLAND CHURCHES AND THEIR CHILDREN, \nwith many illustrations from photographs \n\nSONGS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW, edited by Dolores \nBacon. Decorated by B. Ostertag \n\nA KING'S DIVINITY \n\nTHE DIARY OF A MUSICIAN, edited by Dolores Bacon, \nwith illustrations by H. Latimer Brown and decorations \nby Charles Edward Hooper \n\n\n•f*?P?5?T-'*^. \n\n\nOJ' \n\n\ngSsi&FPSi«^ \n\n\n! A \n\n\n! ■ <^\\ < O \n\n\n*! *^* O \n\n\n^L.^ \n\n\n''^^ \n\n\n•0/]/GAL?'^^' \n\n\n.^X^ \n\n\nOld \n\nNew England Churches \n\nAnd Their Children \n\n\nBy \n\nDOLORES BACON \n\nAuthor of \" The Diary of a Musician,\" \n\" Crumbs and His Times,\" etc. \n\n\nThiriy-three illusiratioTis in photogravure \nand half-tone, from pjiotographs \n\n\nNEW YORK \n\nDoubleday, Page & Company \n\n1906 \n\n\nCopyright, 1906, by \n\nDoubleday, Page 8c Company \n\nPublished, November, 1906 \n\nJll rights reserved, \n\nincluding that of translation into foreign languages \n\nincluding the Scandinavian \n\n\nEDITOR'S NOTE \n\nIn telling the story of New England Churches, \nI have been greatly assisted by the kind cooper- \nation of many New England people : public-spirited \ncitizens and pastors of churches ; and by reference to \npamphlets, books of general history, ecclesiastical \nhistories, town records, old sermons, and the like. \n\nEspecial thanks are due the trustees, librarians \nand to the least of the staff of the Boston Public \nLibrary. I wish eagerly to acknowledge the hos- \npitality of the trustees and here to thank the \nlibrarians for their efficient help in placing well \nclassified and helpful material in my hands. I \nwish to thank the attendants for their cheerful \ncomings and goings, their f etchings and carryings \nin the interest of this work, and to express the \npleasure I have felt in observing how indiscrimin- \nately willing they are to serve all those who work \nwithin that rare library's gates. \n\nPersonal acknowledgments are due the Rever- \nends Edwin P. Parker, Franklin Ware Davis, \nWilliam L. Walsh, Newman Smyth, D. D., Henry \nLincoln Bailey, Alfred Manchester, T. T. Munger, \n\n\nvi EDITOR'S NOTE \n\nHenry M. King, Eugene R. Shippen, Henry E. \nHovey, W.W. Doman; to J. J. Loud, A. S. Forbes, \nMalcolm E. Robb, Dr. Parker, JohnK. Lord,Ph.D., \nWm. D. T. Trefry, Frederick S. Piper, M.D., Julius \nH. Tuttle, and to Prof. W. Walker. \n\nThe authors of the several histories used for ref- \nerence are almost without exception mentioned in \nthe text of New England Churches, and if any \nkindness remains unacknowledged or the identifi- \ncation of any authority has been left undefined it \nis due to inadvertence and not to intention. \n\nDolores Bacon. \n\n\nV \n\n\nCONTENTS \n\n\nPAGE \n\n\nIntroduction. Old New England Chur- \nches, xix \n\nChapter I. First Church, Boston, Massa- \nchusetts. \n\nOrganisation — No Wedding or Funeral Ceremonies — \nSpiritual Symbolism — John Eliot, Apostle to the \nIndians — Roger Williams — John Cotton — Burning \nQuestions — Influence of Puritanism — Antinomianism \nand Romanism 3 \n\nChapter II. Old North Church, Boston, \" \nMassachusetts. \n\nThe Outcome of a King-Killing — Increase and Cotton \nMather — The Paul Revere Lights — Dr. Lathrop — Em- \nerson . , 27 \n\nChapter III. King's Chapel, Boston, Mas- \nsachusetts. \n\na Missionary Enterprise — Andros — Ratcliffe — Caner, \nthe Robber — Ordination Refused — Unitarianism the \nResult — Washington at a Concert — Episcopal Emi- \ngrants— Sabbath Observance — Puritan Peculiarities \n— Royal Gifts — Loyalists — A Romance ... 49 \n\nChapter IV. Old South Church, Boston, \nMassachusetts. \n\nChurch and State Separate — Old South the Beginning \nof Civic Development — The Town Meeting— The \nChurch as a Riding School for the British— The Sewalls \n— Famous Men in the Pulpit and in Politics— Peace \nBetween Old South and King's Chapel • • • 75 \n\nvii \n\n\nCONTENTS— Continued \n\n\nPAGB \n\n\nChapter XV. Longmeadow Church, Long- \nmeadow, Massachusetts. \n\nOrigin of the Name— The Romantic Story of Stephen \nWilUams— The Bourbon Prince— Obnoxious Prayers \nfor the King — Children's Day .... 257 \n\nChapter XVI. First Church, Newport, \nRhode Island. \n\na Gossiping Convention— Dr. Channing — An Out- \ncast Community— Woven for Quakers— Roger Wil- \nliams— Slavery 265 \n\nChapter XVII. First Baptist Church, \nProvidence, Rhode Island. \n\nRoger Williams's Land — Worship in Open Air — Given \nby Pardon Tillinghast — He Refuses Salary — Preacher \na Jack-of-all-trades — Preachers as Street Cleaners — \nQuakers Find Refuge— First Church and the College — \nQuick Work — The Meeting House and the Lottery \n— Henry Packard's Gift — The Family Procession^ \nSlavery Repudiated — Libert^, Egalitd, Fraternity . 277 \n\nChapter XVIII. Center Church, New \nHaven, Connecticut. \n\n\"One Came Preaching in the Wilderness\" — The \nFounders — The First Meeting House — The Seating \nof the Congregation — The First Church — Buying \na Bell — Yale in Embryo — Regicides Find Protection \n— The Crypt — The Graveyard . . . . 291 \n\nChapter XIX. United Church, New \nHaven, Connecticut. \n\nDr. Munger's Relations with the Church — The New- \nSociety — The First Recognition in the Colony of Inde- \n\n\nCONTENTS— Co«/m«/^ xi \n\n\nPAGE \n\n\npendent Citizenship— The Blue Meeting House- \nesthetic Objections on the Part of First Church- \nThe New Edifice Under Guard— Jonathan Edwards- \nUnited Church Pays into Treasury of First Society- \nFirst Society Tries to Cheat New Society of its Share \nin Properties — Division of Properties — Peace . . 315 \n\n\nChapter XX. First Church, Hartford, \nConnecticut. \n\nRev. Elnathan Whitman and Abigail Stanley — The \nRomance of Elizabeth Whitman — Second Church \nImpoverishes the Whitmans . . • . . 327 \n\nChapter XXI. First Church (\"Old Jerusa- \nlem\"), Portland, Maine. \n\nIn the Days of Falmouth — The Living Room of Fal- \nmouth— Garrisoning the Preacher — The Bellframe Be- \ncomes a Scarecrow — Piecing out the Meeting House — \nWhen Pierced by British Shells — State Constitution \nmade in the Meeting House — Ordination Behaviour — \nParti-colours in the Pulpit — When \"Old Jerusalem\" \nStruck 343 \n\nChapter XXII. Old North Church, Ports- \nmouth, New Hampshire. \n\na Cage for the Congregation — Visiting Christians \nRegenerate Portsmouth — The Governor Ruins \nMoodey — Moodey in Jail — Moodey Appeals to Cler- \ngymen for Portsmouth — Clock and Bell — The Coming \nof Buckminster 355 \n\nChapter XXIII. Old St. John's Church, \nPortsmouth, New Hampshire. \n\nThe Reverend Arthur Browne — Marriage of Governor \nWentworth and Martha Hilton — Governor Went- \n\n\nXii CONTENTS— Continued \n\n\nPAGB \n\n\nworth's Birthday Party — The Bread of Coionel Theo- \ndore Atkinson — Funeral Baked-meats make Wedding \nFeast — Governor Wentworth's Millinery Bill — Dis- \npensation of the \"Dole\" — St. John's Baptismal Font \n— Gift of the Misses Mason — Courtship of Rousselet \nand Miss Catherine Moffatt — Washington's Visit — \nHis Diary — What Washington Wore — Queen Caro- \nline's Gift — George Washington and Queen Caroline's \nChair — Trinity's Contribution — Paul Revere Repairs \nthe Bell — Paul Revere 's Successors Repair the Bell — \nThe Wentworth Inscription — The Old Brattle Organ \n— Burying Ground of St. John's ..... 369 \n\nChapter XXIV. First Church, Dover, \nNew Hampshire. \n\nImporting their Preachers — \"As a Light Upon a Hill\" \n— Arbitration in Dover — Whipped at the Cart's \nTail — Dover's Historian — The Pledge — Gun and \nBible Regulate Discords in the Meeting House . 381 \n\nChapter XXV. First Church, Concord, \nNew Hampshire. \n\nService in Camp — The Church-fort — The Frontier \nChurch — The Proprietors of the Meeting House — \nPeculiar Conditions of Colonisation in Concord — \nThe Preacher's Diary — The Ballusters — The Stair \nCarpet — The Truculent Weathercock — The Compass \non the Ceiling — The Choir Screened — Military Orders \nissued from the Meeting House — The Butter which \nBought the Horse Block — Famous Assemblies in the \nMeeting House — Compromise on the Stove — Slavery \nin New England — Miles Standish and his Soldiers 395 \n\nChapter XXVI. Church of Christ, Han- \nover, New Hampshire. \n\nChurch and College Twins — The \"Grafton Presby- \ntery\"— The Church is Housed by the College — The \nCollege Demands a Church — The Church and the \n\n\n. CONTENTS — Continued xiii \n\nPAGE \n\nCollege Quarrel — Peace Established — Noted Men \nwho have Worshipped in the Meeting House — Clan- \nnishness keeps the Church United — College and Church \nQuarrel again — Legislation Appealed to — Daniel \nWebster, Rufus Choate, Edward Everett — Church \nQuarrel Carried to Washington — Chief Justice Mar- \nshall's Decision 407 \n\nChapter XXVII. Church of Christ, Ben- \nnington, Vermont. \n\nRobust Christianity — Vermont gets ready — War and \nWorship — Bennington an Accident — Taxation to \nBuild — Little Ballusters and Little Fingers — Ethan \nAllen goes to Meeting House — The Hessians Dine — \nThey go to Church — Legislation in the Meeting \nHouse — \"Hill\" Property and the Congregationalist — \nThe Preacher a Beggar — Fenelon and the New En- \ngland Preacher — Bennington Discusses Slavery — The \nCarpenter Preacher — Deweys as Commanders Before \nthey are Admirals — Jennings 423 \n\nChapter XXVIII. First Church, New- \nbury, Vermont. \n\nTithing Man — Constabulary — The Preacher Becomes \n\"Hog Constable\" — Sworn in at Midnight — People \nDissatisfied — Church, Courthouse, and Gaol — Meeting \nHouse and Legislature — The Men Expose the Women \n— The Church Folk Become Desperate — Rebuilding \nfor Fifteen Dollars — Thanksgiving Postponed — Wait- \ning for Molasses — Changing their Stockings at Wells \nRiver .437 \n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS \n\nSpire of the Old South Church, Boston, \n\nMassachusetts . . . Frontispiece \n\nFACING PAGE \n\nOld Church, Concord, Massachusetts . . 4 \n\nThe Old North, or Second Church, Boston, \nMassachusetts .... \n\nInterior of Second Church, Boston, Massa- \nchusetts ..... \n\nBust of Emerson which is in the Second \nChurch ..... \n\nThe Minister's Window, Second Church, \nBoston, Massachusetts \n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Massachusetts \n\nDetail of Pulpit, King's Chapel, Boston, \nMassachusetts .... \n\nDetail of King's Chapel \n\nIn the Gallery of King's Chapel, Boston, \nMassachusetts .... \n\nA Portion of Carving from the Organ, Kings \n\nChapel, Boston, Massachusetts . . 72 \n\nOld South Church, Boston, Massachusetts . 86 \n\n\n2>Z \n\n35 \n42 \n\n44 \n50 \n\n62 \n66 \n\n69 \n\n\nIV \n\n\nxvi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS-Co77//»«^^ \n\n\nFACING PAGE \n\n\nOld Church : ' ' Church of Statesmen, ' ' Quincy, \nMassachusetts .... \n\nThe \"Old Slip\" Meeting House, Hingham, \nMassachusetts .... \n\nFirst Parish Church, Lexington, Massa- \nchusetts ..... \n\nFirst Church, Dedham, Massachusetts \n\nChurch of the Pilgrimage, Plymouth, Mas- \nsachusetts ..... \n\nMeeting House Hall, Dorchester, Mas- \nsachusetts ..... \n\nFirst Parish Church: Old North East \nChurch, Brookfield, Massachusetts \n\nSt. Michael's, Marblehead, Massachusetts \n\nFirst Church of Christ, Longmeadow, Mas- \nsachusetts ..... \n\nSpire of the Old North, or Christ Church, \nBoston, Massachusetts \n\nSpire of the First Baptist Church, Prov- \nidence, Rhode Island . \n\nFirst Baptist Church, Showing Parsonage \n\nInterior of First Baptist Church, Prov- \nidence, Rhode Island . \n\nCentre Church, New Haven, Connecticut \n\n\n114 \n134 \n\n150 \n\n158 \n\n175 \n209 \n\n220 \n224 \n\n258 \n277 \n\n277 \n280 \n\n286 \n292 \n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS-Continued xvii \n\n\nFACING PAGE \n\n\nCentre Church's Communion Service given \n\nby Queen Anne ..... 303 \n\nCrypt: Centre Church, New Haven, Connec- \nticut. ...... 305 \n\nMemorial Window, Centre Church, New \n\nHaven, Connecticut . . . .310 \n\nUnited Church, New Haven, Connecticut . 316 \n\nOld North Church, Portsmouth, New \n\nHampshire . . . . .364 \n\nOld St. John's Church, Portsmouth, New \n\nHampshire . . . . -372 \n\nFirst Congregational Church, Dover, New \n\nHampshire . . . . .382 \n\nFirst Church, Newbury, Vermont . .438 \n\n\nINTRODUCTION \n\n*'EvEN as a hen gathereth her chickens under her \nwings \" did the church of New England hover those \nwho came out of an old civilisation into a new \nworld. \n\nPerhaps no story tells of such heroic splendour \nas does the story of that chosen people. The \nages have, given us tales of Spartan greatness, of \nglittering heroism, of splendid warfare, of chivalry, \nbut the heroes of such derring-do found immediate \ncompensation, and their courage had its almost \ninstant reward. \n\nThe soldier fights his battles with the certainty \nof self-approval and the stimulation of applause \nfrom his comrades or a waiting world; the ad- \nventurer has ever felt the inspiration of an eager \naudience, or has known the genius-ecstasy of new \ndiscovery. But the Puritan stood for none of \nthese things. God and His Heaven were the \nPuritan's obsessions, and for these he was trans- \nplanted to a strange soil which must have seemed \nbarren indeed, however rich it was in promise, \nsince it lacked the guide-posts of home. \n\nxix \n\n\nXX Old New England Churches \n\nIn 1620, a little company of men composing the \nimmigrant church halted to worship God before \nfearsomely setting forth to conquer the unknown; \nand thus was gathered the first Protestant Church \non New World soil. These Pilgrims had exiled \nthemselves in a heroic spirit. For fear rather \nthan for love of God, most of them had left home \nwithout a fortune, and they had not come hither \nto seek one. There were to be wars, but no \npageantry. There was to be heroism, but no \nimmediate applause. The applause was to come \nmany generations later. They could not know that \nwhen it came it would ring so loud as to echo \nthrough all the ages that were to follow. The \nconditions they endured were a reversion to that of \nan elemental civilisation. \n\nThe adventurers in God seem to have exer- \ncised no intellectual perspective, and thus to have \nlived by a reasonable and legitimate optimism. \nThey had to guide them only their persistent \nsuperstition and a miraculous shrewdness, born \nof a common desire to survive. But that common \ndesire had its impulse in an extraordinary and \nexceptional motive—a rarefied ascetic mind. \nAs others had fought for physical life, so these \nadventurers fought perversely for spiritual life, \n\n\nIntroduction \n\n\nXXI \n\n\ntrying to preserve their bodies only for the \npractise of austerities in the name of God. With \nno intellectuahty common to the company, these \nmen peered into the forest, then stepped forth, doubt- \nless with ph5^sical shrinking, but with leonine \ndetermination to die for God and their right. \n\nThey established, promoted, and defended God \nand His word with all the cunning of obstinate \nand cautious tacticians. They did not at first \nestablish their citadel upon a hill, but sought the \nlowlands. All civil laws were to be promulgated \nwith a view to spiritual opportunity. New World \nhomes were compulsorily set up within a half- \nmile of New England meeting houses; thus the \nChurch became the material as well as the spiritual \nnucleus of all things. Crowding close up around \nit for protection was the little handful of intrepid \ncitizens, who were strong mainly in spirit. They \nlived in the shadow of a fort-like structure which \nwas the original house of God on this soil. In \nthe second stage of New World development \nabout the church structure stood the stocks, the \njail, and the gallows. This is a proper order of \nenumeration, for in those early hours of western \nhistory, civil as well as spiritual law and the \nChristian religion were maintained by fear. \n\n\nxxii Old New England Churches \n\nThese instruments of worldly development stood \nnot incongruously near to the spiritual Correctional \n— the Church of the Puritan. By law, every \ntown in the colony was compelled to build its \nmeeting house ; when that legal demand was not \nfulfilled, the town fathers forthwith met the \nrequirements and took the cost from the town \nrevenue. Those first primitive structures, squares \nof rough-hewn logs, weather-proofed with clay, ' \nthatched with straw, and having none but earthen \nfloors — those forbidding, desolate places — be- \ncame the anchors, the beacons, the saviours of \nthe New World. Those unconsecrated cabins \nbecame at once the granaries, the storehouses, \nthe halls of justice, the halls of record, the forts, \nand the places in which to worship God. When \nthe rigours of winter menaced the destruction \nof one of civilisation's best agents, the horse, \nthe churches situated in the valleys became \nstables as well. All living things might find \nprotection under their roofs, if need be; and a \nwhole world rushed there upon alarum. \n\nAs civilisation expanded and neighbouring pas- \nturage became inadequate, forests near the settle- \nments being gradually hewn down and consumed, \ndemands were made for new conditions and for \n\n\nIntroduction xxiii \n\na revision for those legal requirements which \ngathered congregations under the shadow of a \nchurch. \n\nThen came another period in the history of the \nmeeting house. It was set \" as a light upon a \nhill,\" where it became a sentinel to warn the \npeople of hostile approach — \" a landmark whose \nhigh bell- turret, or steeple, that, pointing to heaven, \nwas likewise a guide upon earth.\" There this \nsign and signal of the stern adventurer stood \nthrough bleak winters, through pitiless, beating \nsuns of summer, a reminder only to come and be \nsaved. It was unbeautiful, unsympathetic, unseem- \nly in theory; in practice a harsh parent who dealt \nout promises of hope and joy with niggard hand, \nwhile promises of punishments were given freely; \nand though it beckoned, it menaced more. It \nwas the sign of preservation, spiritual preservation, \nbut of naught else. It did not smile upon well- \ndoing, but it frowned upon failure to love it. \n\nThe Puritan did not come here to establish \nreligious freedom. He came to practise according \nto his own conscience, and he was intolerant \nof all who did not endorse his views and live ac- \ncording to his creeds. We have official evidence \nof this in the records of the New Haven colony: \n\n\nxxiv Old New England Churches \n\n''that all the people of God within this juris- \ndiction, who are not in a church way, being ortho- \ndox in judgment, and not scandalous in life, shall \nhave full liberty to gather themselves into a \nchurch estate, provided they do it in a Christian \nway, with due observation of the rules of Christ, \nrevealed in His Word; provided also, that this \ncourt doth not, nor hereafter will, approve of \nany such company of persons, as shall join in any \npretended way of church fellowship, unless they \nshall first, in due season, acquaint both the magis- \ntrates and elders of the churches within this colony \nwhere and when they intend to join, and have their \napprobation therein. Nor shall any person, being \na member of any church which shall be gathered \nwithout such notice given and approbation had, or \nwho is not a member of some church in Neiv England \napproved by the magistrates and churches of this \ncolony, be admitted to the freedom of this juris- \ndiction.'' \n\nThis religion was distinct from all other re- \nligions. Christian or pagan, in that it eliminated \nthe element of chivalry from its performance, \nalso everything spectacular, and it was desiccated \nuntil there remained only a hard, unresponsive \nself-sacrifice. The Catholic Church swore \"by \nour Lady, \" the rites of pagan religions com- \nmended themselves to the human love of earthl}^ \nglory and exhibition; but the Puritan swore not \nat all, and he became elated only over his chastise- \n\n\nIntroduction xxv \n\nments. One of two deductions must be drawn; \neither the Puritan soul was impoverished beyond \nthe sense of need, or it was opulent beyond the \npower to assimilate further riches. It was ulti- \nmate either way. It must have been, else it could \nnot have survived. Whichever it was, the stern \nspirit did survive to establish the most tremen- \ndous forces in civilisation — integrity, endurance, \na reasonable self-abnegation, a love of justice, \nan intelligent measure of gratitude, a generous \nexercise of power, and a faith that \" God's in \nHis Heaven, all's right with the world!\" \n\nAll mental action of that date was creative \nin its character. Resourcefulness was the sign of \nthe survivor, therefore a sign of God. Men did \nnot exist to learn of history, but to make it. \nSave for a few chosen leaders they were unlettered, \nignorant of all save courage. \n\nOne of our most conscientious chroniclers tells \nus that they had \" 'turritts' and 'turretts' and \n'turits' and 'tur^rts' and 'feriats' and 'tyrryts' \nand 'toryttes' and 'turiotts' and 'chyrits.' \" \nHowever that may have been, sure it is that they \nhad turrets, and brave men to sentinel them. \nThey had \" juyces, rayles, and nayles and bymes \nand tymber and gaybels and pulpytes and three \n\n\nxxvi Old New England Churches \n\npayr of stayrs \" in their meeting house but their \njoists, rails, nails, beams, timber, gables, pulpits \nand three pair of stairs were very properly as- \nsembled to the eternal cause of God and human \nsurvival. The Puritans were not able to spell, but \nthey were able to create a nation. They were not \ncapable of subjective happiness, but they made a \nfair world for a great and heroic people. They \nmay have builded better than they were able to \nknow at the time, but they builded splendidly \nfor their children's children; and the pulsing, \nvibrant life in the New World of this Twentieth \nCentury can trace back, step by step, the inspiring \nresult to its cause. Then may not the clear-eyed, \nwarmth-loving generation of to-day believe in \nthe opulence rather than in the spiritual sterility \nof its forebears? \n\nThere seems to have been a remarkably practical \ncoordination of the physical and psychical natures \nin the Puritans. While building their monuments \nto God they did not forget their own fleshly re- \nquirements, and they seem to have been as in- \ntemperate in such matters as they were in their \nspiritual exploits. There is a record of the pro- \nvision of \"five barrels of rum, one barrel of good \nbrown sugar, one box of fine lemons, and two \n\n\nIntroduction xxvii \n\nloaves of sugar\" which were required by the \nworkmen in the process of constructing one \nNew England church. These meeting houses, \ncarrying so large an amount of responsibility, \nwere guarded against destruction with all the \ningenuity of the pioneer mind. They stood in \nsummer without shade, all trees in close proximity \nbeing destroyed to protect the buildmgs from fire. \nThe outside walls were the posting places of the \ncommunity. To the church were brought wolves' \nheads to be nailed to the wall. This was the \nmethod of tally and of computing rewards at a \ntime when the capturer of a living wolf was paid \nfifteen shillings from the town treasury, and the \ndelivery of a dead wolf was worth ten shillings. \nThese blood-smeared walls with their postings \nof common interest, and with their grmning \nwolves' heads, must have presented a strange ap- \npearance of barbarity, of a cinide, formative exis- \ntence. On Sundays the men came rudely ac- \ncoutred to protect the congregation from Indians \nor wolves, their two \"greatest inconveniences.\" \nThere is a rugged magnificence in this picture \nwhich in a later time has become a part \nof a spectacle which is to be regarded only \nsynthetically. It is impossible to regard it \n\n\nxxviii Old New England Churches \n\neither in its material or its spiritual aspect \nalone. The one was uselessly forbidding; the \nother had in it almost nothing that charmed. Yet \nwe cannot look upon a congregation carndng \na \"competent number of peeces, fixed and com- \npleat with powder and shot and swords every \nLord's-day to the meeting house\" without a \nhuzzah and a quicker beating of the heart. When \nman lived with so much of difficulty to defend his \nconscience, it would seem that even the dead \nmust respond with applause! \n\nBehold the adventurers in an armour of \" coats \nbasted with cottonwool\" for defence against \nIndian arrows, each man representing an annual \nallowance from the town treasury of a pound of \nlead and a pound of powder; the \"sentinell\" \nin the turret of the meeting house; the \" anned \nwatcher who 'paced the streets,' and three cannon \nmounted by the side of this church militant which \nmust strongly have resembled a garrison.\" Listen \nto the masterly description of these strange \nsoldiers who had \" corslets to cover the body; \ngorgets to guard the throat; tasses to protect \nthe thighs; a bandileer, a large 'neats leather' \nbelt thrown over the right shoulder and hanging \ndown under the left arm.\" Each man wore \n\n\nIntroduction xxbc \n\neither a \"bastard musket with a snap hance,\" \na \"long fowling piece with musket bore,\" a \"full \nmusket\" and a \"barrell with a mat eh- cock\" or \nperhaps (for they were purchased by the town) \n\"a leather gun.\" We are told that this sentinel \n\"had attached to his wrist by a cord, a gun- rest, \nor a gun-fork, which he placed upon the ground \nwhen he wished to fire his musket \" and that he \n\" carried a sword and sometimes a pike; and thus \nheavily burdened with multitudinous arms and \ncumbersome armour could never have run after \nor from an Indian with much agility or celerity \nthough he could stand at the church door with \nhis leather gun — an awe-inspiring figure.\" These \nwere Salem soldiers. In New Haven there was \nanother equipment. In Concord, New Hamp- \nshire, they \" stacked their muskets around a post \nin the middle of the church while the honoured \npastor who was a good shot and owned the best \ngun in the settlement, preached with his treasured \nweapon in the pulpit by his side.\" This strange \nspectacle might seem grotesque if it were not \ncoupled inevitably with the tremendous soul- \nimpulse behind it. Just so their unlovely spiritual \nexhibitions would fail to impress us were not the \nrigours of their condition, their tremendous dan- \n\n\nXXX Old New England Chu/ches \n\ngers, and their heroic resistance to material evil \nfor spiritual good presented at the same time. \nRegarded synthetically, this desolate aspect be- \ncomes luminant, this lifeless spectacle piilses and \ncompels for itself a place in history unmatched for \nfortitude by Spartan heroism; nor as a spectacle \nwas it matched. It was real, and three hundred \nyears later it has become sublime. \n\nIn those early, half legendary days all phe- \nnomena of nature made hortatory opportunity for \nthe pulpit. A frightful storm on the night of Feb- \nruary 22, 1722, was the occasion and text of many \nsermons in the morning. A minister in Boston on \nthe Lord's-day following, began his discourse, \n\"A Mighty Storm in the Last NIGHT beyond, \nwhich this morning we find so growing upon us \nthat I thought it SEASONABLE etc.\" The \nstorm was the occasion for this man of God to \nprophesy for Boston the fate of \" Ninive.\" \n\nThe earthquake of 1727 so aroused human \napprehension and religious frenzy, that John \nBrown of Haverhill wrote to John Cotton that \n\"rain or shine\" a vast number of people — mostly \nyoung and unmarried — ^pursued him \"from morn- \ning until eight o'clock at night without so much \nas time to take any bodily refreshment.\" They \n\n\nIntroduction xxxi \n\nflocked to him to be \" admitted and propounded.\" \nThe earthquake reformed \" drunkards and swearers' ' \nand \"melted them to tears.\" John Brown re- \nmarked significantly in his letter, \" There seems to \nbe in town a general reformation.\" John Cotton \ndeclared that \" in the late terrible earthquake \nthousands of men come to amend their ways \nand doings and return unto the Lord. If \nafter this shaking they settle upon their Lees \nagain, I also say, 'The Lord have mercy upon \nthem.' \" Indeed, William Cooper of a Boston \nchurch preached upon \"The danger of Peoples \nlosing the good impression made by the late \nterrible earthquake.\" \n\nBut into the midst of so much of tragedy and hell- \nfire there crept the leaven of humour, untranslated \nin those days, which served almost to satirise \neven so rousing and awesome a condition as that \nof the Puritan. While William Cooper, John \nCotton, Dr. Charles Chauncey, Benjamin Colman, \nThomas Foxcroft, and other men of God whose \nname is Legion, were speaking prophetically, \nwarning a sinful world to depart from its ways, \npointing it from the very sink of hell as revealed \nin the tremendous cataclysm, one Josiah Smith \npreached in Charlestown, Province of South \n\n\nxxxii Old New England Churches \n\nCarolina, a sermon full of most excellent good \nsense on this same absorbing topic, and from the \nstandpoint of to-day a discourse of no little humour. \nThis sermon of February 24, 1727, was preached \nin vindication of the people of New England ; and \nthis preacher, rendered either fearless by reason \nof his intelligence, or reckless by reason of his \neducation, maintained for the glory of New En- \ngland that \" the greatest sufferers \" were not always \n\"the greatest sinners.\" He declared unto the \npeople of Charlestown that New England was \nfull of good works. He pointed manfully to her \njudiciary, to her ministers of the Gospel, to her \nheaven-pointing spires, to her former prosperity, \nmaintained in spite of pestilence and of the ex- \ntravagant climatic conditions of several seasons, \nand he also reminded Charlestown that the earth- \nquake had \"almost reached South Carolina,\" and \nthat \"very probably by comparing TIME'' \nCharlestown \"heard the ROARr He further \nremarked significantly, \"What sheer mercy that \nwe only heard the roar!\" Let us imagine the \nministerial eye looking down upon Charlestown \nwhile delivering this shaft. En parenthesis, he \ninformed Charlestown that \" its strange stupidity \nis our greatest danger.\" Yes, and he even added, \n\n\nIntroduction xxxiii \n\n\"There is doubtless provision enough in Nature \nfor an earthquake in CaroHna.\" \n\nEarthquakes and storms, droughts, crops, no \ncrops, health, pestilence — all things, good or ill, \nwere occasions for the praise of God, for an econom- \nical commendation of the people or an unstinted \ncondemnation of them in that Year of Our Lord \n1727. \n\nThere is not a little humour to be extracted from \nthese dread sermons and even from the statistical \ncompilations of the time. One minister com- \npiled church statistics in 1760 as follow: Massa- \nchusetts, 306 churches; Connecticut, 170 churches; \nNew Hampshire, 43 churches; Rhode Island, \n11; Total, 530. But being somewhat oppressed \nby his conscience, he took pains to assure his \naudience that while the list might not be absolutely \naccurate, he had the \" Number of Congregational \nchurches not augmented beyond the Truth,\" \nfrom which we may infer that this man of statistics \nwas himself a Congregational preacher, not en- \ntirely without a very human desire to exaggerate \nin favour of his own people. \n\nIf we smile in passing, we also approve, since \nit is such human inclinations, struggling through \na sombre, almost black opacity of thought, which \n\n\nxxxiv Old New England Churches \n\nremind us or perhaps assure us that those grave \nand rugged seigneurs were of our own genus. \nIt is these things alone which bridge the past \nwhich otherwise is so alien in thought, in sur- \nroundings, in achievement to those of us who \nthink and feel and dare and do to-day. \n\n\nFIRST CHURCH, BOSTON, MASS. \n\n\nCHAPTER I \nFirst Church, Boston, Massachusetts \n\nON A MIDSUMMER day in Charlestown the \nFirst Church was estabhshed by four En- \nghshmen covenanting together. John Winthrop \nwas one more of these four. Thus ' 'two or three \ngathered together in His name \"laid the founda- \ntion of the First Church in Boston. The church \nwas without a preacher for a time, but in the \nvacancy John Winthrop \" exercised in the way \nof prophesying,\" which means that he preached. \n\nThere was one preacher among the four cov- \nenanters— the Rev. John Wilson — ^but he did not \nclaim precedence in the group; he was simply one \nof the company. \n\nOn the Sunday following the organisation five \nmore names were added, and in this manner, a \nfew at a time, the church grew and acquired a \ncongregation and a membership. The unattrac- \ntiveness, at the same time the forcefulness of \nthese people is evident even in their nomenclature \nand phraseology. They distinguished the read- \n\n\n4 Old New England Churches \n\ning and expounding of the Bible after the Puritan \nplan, from the Church of England's use of it, as \n\"dumb reading\" — an expression which conveys \nall they meant and which at the same time seems \nto fall as fiat and poverty-stricken as language \ncan well fall. Certain of their habits of thought \nimpress one as most peculiar; to them neither \nmarriage nor death was an occasion of special \nsacredness. Marriage at that time could not be \nsolemnised by a religious ceremony ; it was simply \na civil contract, precisely as we have learned now \nto regard it. It is strange that it should have \nbeen so in the light of a later theological enthu- \nsiasm. One does not wonder at the absence \nof the marriage ring; it was too symbolical and \nsmacked of heathenism. In regard to death — since \nthey only lived to die — it still seems inappropriate \nthat burial should not have been accompanied by \na religious ceremony. \n\nIt is useless to try to reconcile the deeds with \nthe theories of those people. They hated the \nCatholic Church, as the Devil hates holy water, \nbecause of its symbolism, which the Puritans \nregarded as too perfunctory for hot results; and \nyet they substituted an absolutely unlimited \nsymbolism for the extremelv limited one of the \n\n\nFirst Church, Boston, Mass. 5 \n\nCatholics. Thunder was symbolic of God's anger; \na failure of crops was symbolic of his wrath ; an \nearthquake was symbolic of his displeasure; \neverything was symbolic of one thing — a vin- \ndictive God, and they were put to it to find enough \nsynonomous words to express God's attitude. \n\nThey lived upon spiritual symbolism, and as \nthat of the imagination is without limit, they \nsimply outdid the Catholics on their own ground; \nonl}^ to the Puritan the Catholic seemed to have \nvulgarised his imaginings by giving them form. \n\nThe autumn which followed this organisation \nof the First Church was gentle, and the winter \nwas not too protractedly severe. Blackstone, \nwho was settled on the peninsula, welcomed the \nstragglers most hospitably as they gradually \ndrifted thither. But the ecclesiastical element \nwhich they brought with them was too much even \nfor Blackstone, who was himself a clerical; hence \nhe left them and \" struck out anew into the wilder- \nness, where he could be quit of ministers as well \nas of bishops.\" \n\nThose of the First Church still worshipped in \nthe open. Cabins were springing up all about \nthem, but there was much illness and a lack of \nfood. The original four of this church were very \n\n\n6 Old New England Churches \n\nnearly extinguished at this time. Gager and \nIsaac Johnson died and presently the preacher \nwent to England to bring his family back with him. \nThe congregation, however, was left, and under \nWinthrop's and Wilson's guidance they kept \ntogether. Then came John Eliot, famous as the \napostle of the Indians. His goodness, his devo- \ntion are monuments to man's charity, but how \nmuch permanent good his work resulted in, ex- \ncept to the antiquarian who will preserve his Bible \nin the Indian language, is a question for individual \njudgment to settle. As an instance of mis- \nsionary devotion, Eliot's was almost unexampled. \nProbably no people in the world needed the \nconstant attention of a great and good man like \nEliot as badly as did the Puritans themselves, \nbut most of his attention was given to the ab- \norigines. Perhaps he actually served the Puri- \ntans by influencing, temporarily, a handful of \nIndians whose ultimate fate was to be exter- \nmination; but at best he served only the imme- \ndiate generation, while all that was done for good \nor evil among the men of his own race, finds echo \ntwo hundred and fifty years later. \n\nMeanwhile Roger Williams was with the First \nChurch. Thus with Eliot the faithful, Williams \n\n\nFirst Church, Boston, Mass. 7 \n\nthe progressive, Wilson full of affection for the \npeople and faith in their undertaking, the First \nChurch seems to have had a peculiarly rich early \nhistory; but we find the contemporary eccle- \nsiastical writers expressing a peculiar and ex- \ntreme prejudice against Williams. There is \nlittle intelligent explanation of this, and even \nchurchmen of to-day, who write liberally and \nunderstandingly upon the conditions, men, \nand deeds of former times, refuse to give full \ncredit to Roger Williams. There would seem \nto be a constitutional jealousy of him in the \nChurch. The arguments that are intended to \ndiscountenance him, are in themselves testi- \nmonies to his services, his wisdom and substan- \ntiality. The disapproval of him seems to be \nemotional rather than mental. The Rev. Rufus \nEllis of the First Church wrote resentfully: \n\n\" Williams claims to have been unanimously chosen \nteacher of our church and adds that he declined \nthe office because of the tacit if not open com- \nmunion with the Church of England. . . . We \nonly know, as I have said, that Eliot, who is re- \nmembered for his deeds as Williams for his theories \ntook temporary charge, while the future founder of \nRhode Island went on his way for a season to \nSalem. ' ' \n\n\n8 Old New England Churches \n\nSome one else remarks that Quakers and all other \ncriminals (judged by Puritan standards) found \ntheir way to Rhode Island and there dwelt in \npeace and flourished — in spite of themselves and \nRoger Williams; and that even now Rhode \nIsland gets on fairly well! There is something \ngrotesque in such reasoning. If Roger Williams \nwas a man given wholly to theories, these re- \nsults would indicate that faith without works is \nexceedingly profitable; but as a matter of fact \nthere is an unregenerate belief that with Williams \nthere was more of \"works\" than of \"faith\" — \nexcept faith in himself and in the survival of the \nfittest. Those who even to-day are jealous of \nhis amazing success at making a people happy \nin the wilderness, and in founding a state which \nis a substantial factor in New England eco- \nnomics, provide us with a mass of personal \nreflections which seem to be thrown off into \nspace, distributing themselves with a wild incon- \nsistency. \n\nThe church's first notable work was its service \nto the Indians who were suffering at that time \nfrom an epidemic of smallpox; but this was not \nexclusively the work of the society; the entire \ntown of Boston and the outlying villages had a \n\n\nFirst Church, Boston, Mass. 9 \n\nhand in it, even taking the sick and their children \ninto their own houses. \n\nIn time John Cotton came to the pulpit and he \ndetermined that the ministry should be main- \ntained by weekly contributions as opposed to a \nsubsidised church. He was exceedingly arbitrary \nin his rule, declaring what men should be voted \nfor and what not. One election which did not \nplease him he reversed on a Thursday lecture \nday, and it is said that by so doing he saved to \nBoston its Common. He also had trouble with \nEliot who had all the moral courage necessary \nto the pioneer. Eliot made bitter protest against \nthe unfair treatment of the Indians, and Cotton \nwas called upon by the magistrates whom Eliot \nattacked, to \"reduce\" him, who was about as \nreducible as a fraction at its lowest terms. \n\nWe find a very positive instance of rebellion \nto Cotton's autocracy, when he tried to retain a \ngovernor in his office directly against the wishes \nof the people. The republican spirit was large \neven then, and while the people approved of \nCotton's choice, and afterward, of their own \nvolition, reelected the governor for the second time, \nthey chose a new one for an interregnum in order \nto assert their independence of John Cotton. \n\n\nlO \n\n\nOld New England Churches \n\n\nThis First Church in Boston housed certain \nlegislative assemblies notable in American his- \ntory. Once the question arose \" If a governor \nshould be sent by England, what should New \nEngland do?\" Also, \"Is it lawful to carry the \ncross in our banner?\" \n\nThe decision of the ministers was, \"As to the \ncross in the banner, we are not ready to say \nthat may be an idolatrous symbol or not. But \nas to the governor, we are quite clear that we \nshould not accept him, not though we should be \ncompelled to fight.\" \n\nTheir habit of interpreting the Bible without \nany appreciation of geographical distribution, cus- \ntoms, or times, was demonstrated by Mr. Cotton \nwhen he took pains to prove by the Scriptures \nthat it was permissible for women to put aside \ntheir veils in church, unless the custom of the \nplace made veils the token of subjection. Mr. \nCotton seems to have been the first to understand \nthat the Orient was not located in New England \nand that the s^^mbol in Judaea might possibly \nnot be the symbol in Boston. Governor En- \ndicott, however, took the other side. This \nquestion of veils or no veils became very famous, \nand stopped short of being infamous only be- \n\n\nFirst Church, Boston, Mass. ii \n\ncause the governor took a hand in it and settled \nthe dispute. \n\nRoger WilUams presently made more trouble \n— as a spirit of fairness was bound to do at that \ntime. Even to-day the ecclesiastical historian \nspeaks deprecatingly of Williams's protest that \nthe title to lands by King James's grant should \nnot be maintained; and that there was a moral \nnecessity to compromise with the Indians. The \nmagistrates objected to this then, and a good \nmany people seem to object to it now that they \nknow better. He contended that King James's \ndole was \"a solemn public lie\" when it asserted \nthat he was the first Christian prince to discover \nAmerica. King James saw fit to christen Europe, \nChristendom, and to this also Williams took \nexception. It seems as if the unprejudiced mind \nmust incline to agree with him; and as there were \na good many at that time who were ready to \nchristen New England, Christendom, one marvels \nthat Williams did not have better luck at the \nhands of his detractors. Mr. Williams called King \nCharles names drawn from the Book of Revelations. \nThe Rev. Mr. Ellis says that the governor took \nadvice from judicious ministers and induced \nRoger Williams to retract, but this retraction \n\n\n12 \n\n\nOld New England Churches \n\n\nwas the last of which he was ever guilty — or \nwhich he had the grace to make. Mr. Ellis goes \non to say, \"He was soon able to get a surer foot- \ning on more advanced and firmer ground. He \nwas doubtless then on his way to his doctrine of \nsoul liberty and an extreme liberalism so extreme \nthat, for what he deemed lack of fit companion- \nship, the Lord's Supper could be no communion \nfor him save as he could observe it with his wife \" \n— which means only that Roger Williams was \nparticular as to the company he kept in those \ndays when a great many outrageous people pre- \nvailed. Again Roger Williams insisted that his \nbusiness was with public morals and offences \nagainst order, decency, and general welfare, and \nnot with the regulation of souls and their God. \n\" He must not put an unregenerate man with \nthe oath; for what communion hath light with \ndarkness? \" All of which gives us the profoundest \nrespect for this man, who was the Beecher of his \ntime in respect to being in advance of it. But \nthis working intelligence of his was a grave offence, \nand again he was called to account by the civil \nauthorities and by the church, but they could no \nmore \"reduce\" him than they could reduce Eliot, \nwho also had an intelligence as well as a conscience. \n\n\nFirst Church, Boston, Alass. 13 \n\nIt was decided that Williams's very presence \nwas inimical to the church. It is remarkable to \nrecord that they did not hang him, but let \nhim off with banishment. They sent him into \nthe wilderness, anywhere beyond the jurisdiction \nof Massachusetts, to grow up with the country or \nto be eaten up by the Savages as chance might \nhave it. As chance did have it, his banishment \nbrought about great results, and though First \nChurch repudiated him it is bound to shine by \nhis reflected light. The church tried to do it- \nself out of a good thing but did not succeed: and \nperhaps, like certain colleges that have latterly \nconferred alphabetical distinction upon successful \nlitterateurs whom these same colleges rusticated \nand denied a degree before fame was dreamed of, \nthe First Church to-day would like to take unto \nitself more credit for Roger Williams's fame than \nit deserves. The patronising references by the \nexceedingly commonplace preachers of to-day to \nthe man who was able to buy and sell them in- \ntellectually, as well as by virtue of his actual \nachievements, would be unworthy of mention \ndid they not prove that a cat may look at the \nking, or that almost anybody may do almost \nanything to his betters without impeding the \n\n\n14 Old New England Churches \n\ntremendous forces of moral courage and good \n\nsense. \n\nIn considering the reasons for the success of \nthis nation — reasons which seemingly grew out \nof so limited, bigoted, and disastrous a time, \nplace, and people — we must disregard Puritanism \nand the purpose which first settled these New \nEngland colonies. Puritanism in its extreme \nphase is not an impelling cause, but only a result \nof several tremendous forces lying in the temper \nof a people. In the first place this country was \nsettled by the second or younger sons of English- \nmen. It is perfectly well known that it is the second \nborn — all other things being equal — who is given \nthe best constitution mentally, morally, and phy- \nsically. In discussing this with an Englishman \nhe said: \n\n\" I cannot understand why it is that this country \nis so far in advance of the Mother Country, and \nis peopled by a nation that has been able to \ndo in two hundred years what its brother. \nOld England, would have required three \ntimes the time and opportunity to bring about. \nIt was only our younger sons, our left-overs who \ncame here in the beginning. What is wrong?\" \n\nThere was nothing wrong except the man's \nanthropological deductions. \n\n\nFirst Church, Boston, Mass. 15 \n\nAgain, the man who dares the difficulties and \ndangers of a new world is virile in the extreme. \nThus this country was settled by the very pick \nof the English nation. Moreover, the Puritan's \nreligion was only skin deep, however much it \nmay seem upon superficial observation to have \nbeen otherwise. Was not George Washington \nas much the god of the Puritan (when he got to \nfighting) as one of their own creed? It took \nsomething as strenuous as war to break down their \nreligious prejudices and fanaticism, but war did \nit. The strength, the courage, the vitality of \nEngland settled here. It was hampered by a \nreligious fanaticism; on the other hand that \nfanaticism was an evidence of temperament — a \nthing unknown to the Englishman in his prime \nestate. Puritanism was not a cause of our \nextraordinary achievement. It hampered us, it \ndelayed civilisation, but could not stop it; and \nit was an evidence of the force that won. \n\nIt was in 1636, in March, that the Rev. Hugh \nPeters took the first step toward establishing \na sort of employment agency, in proposing to \nF^rst Church that it should supply the people \nwith employment in winter-time lest idleness \nruin both Church and State. \n\n\n1 6 Old New England Churches \n\nIn time came Wheelwright as the third preacher \nto First Church. Antinomianism arrived and \nleft its mark, and there were very emotional sea- \nsons in the church's history but John Winthrop \nmaintained the balance. Wheelwright's preach- \ning very nearly brought about civil disorganisa- \ntion, his enemies and supporters coming into \nconflict, until tranquillity was restored by his \nbanishment. It was at this climax that the \nelection of the governor occurred and it was con- \ntrolled entirely by the theological situation. Mr. \nWinthrop' s success in this election was probably \ndue to the Rev. John Wilson's speech, delivered \nfrom a tree. \n\nCotton became greatly involved in the anti- \nnomian doctrine, and John Winthrop seems to \nhave been the only man who kept his head at this \ncrisis. At last Mrs. Hutchinson, the antinomian \nleader, not finding it convenient to think pre- \ncisely as the society of the First Church thought, \nwas incontinently cast out: it was not tolerable \nto the people of First Church to contemplate \na worthiness greater than their own. The treat- \nment of Mrs. Hutchinson was very distressing. \nHowever, the church only banished her, did not \nfollow the custom of the day and kill her — the \n\n\nFirst Church, Boston, Mass. 17 \n\nIndians did that somewhat later. It was about \nthis time that Dorothy Talbye was driven so mad \nby the strain of a morbid rehgion that she murdered \nher child, hoping that it might escape the miseries \nshe herself had suffered. The mad woman was \nhanged as a matter of course, while the church \nwas not even put into the stocks. This dis- \ntracted mother begged to be beheaded because \nshe thought it a less painful and shameful \ndeath than hanging; but the church, which was \nthen the law, was not engaged in humane prac- \ntices but only in the worship of God, and very nat- \nurally the more a victim disliked hanging the more \nprofoundly careful the church was to hang him. \n\nOne man who ventured to remark that the \nchurch was dogmatic slightly in excess of com- \nfort and convenience was promptly whipped \nand fined. This was a citizen otherwise in good \nstanding. In all probability the vicarious con- \nscience never dwelt so long and successfully in an \nentire people as it did in the people of Massa- \nchusetts. \n\nIt is said that the church was very solicitous \nin looking after the morals of Boston — in short, the \nFirst Church determined that Boston should be ed- \nucated up to its standard or Boston should perish. \n\n\n1 8 Old New England Churches \n\nThere seemed to be but one thing that could \nresist this absolute theocracy, and that was \nfashion. The General Court inveighed against \nit, but alas, the General Court had a wife, \nand the preachers had wives, and though the \npreachers and the General Court might control \nall else in the world they had not the power to \nsay how its fig leaf should be cut. \n\nOne historian says, \"The church is scarcely \nten years old, and must begin its series of re- \nmovals from one house to another; but what \nwould we not give to-day for so much as a fragment \nof the first building.\" We cannot endorse the \ntaste of this chronicler of distressful events. On \nthe contrary we should expect the people to \nrejoice at moving away and separating them- \nselves from every vestige of the house which had \nwitnessed so much wrong, instituted so much \ninjustice and inhumanity, hoping to begin with \na clean spirit in a clean house. \n\nMary Gay Humphreys once wrote a famous \neditorial in the old days of \"Hearth and Home\" \ncalled \"The Immorality of Inanimate Things.\" \nShe chose panniers, which were then in fashion, \nas her subject for demonstration. It is well she \ndid not live in a time when churches instead of \n\n\nFirst Church, Boston, Mass. 19 \n\npanniers were in fashion, else she must certainly \nhave written that editorial upon churches; and \nwhile those early Puritan desperadoes would now \nbe mercifully forgotten, their meeting houses \nwould be immortalised — The Immorality of Inani- \nmate Things! \n\nAbout this time in the history of First Church \nMr. Cotton who seems to have been a man given \nto borrowing trouble, must have looked forward \nto his superannuation, because he began to agitate \nfor a pension to be given those officials who had \ngrown old in public service. Sir Henry Vane, \nsympathiser with Mrs. Hutchinson, a kind and \ntolerant man, was a member of First Church and, \nof course, he met the fate of those who indulged \nin thoughts of their own. A good many great \nones of the earth belonged to the First Church \nwho were doubtless deterred by the intolerance of \nthe time from being as great as they might have \nbeen. Immigration to New England had now \nceased and emigration had begun. We read \nthat ten years after Winthrop landed here between \ntwenty-one and twenty-five thousand English- \nmen had returned to England. \n\nPunishments visited by the First Church seem \nto have descended if not unto the third and fourth \n\n\n20 Old New England Churches \n\ngenerations at least unto the second : Mrs. Hutchin- \nson's son was called to account \"for reviling the \nchurches,\" which was bad enough to be sure, \nbut considering the fate of his mother, his failure \nto revile them would have merited a worse punish- \nment than any that the church could inflict — \nand the church was particularly versatile in the \nmatter of punishments. The son was imprisoned \nand fined, but judgment could not be satisfied, \nand as an additional punishment he was com- \npelled to attend the First Church while he was \nin Boston. As he was forcibly led to meeting \nthere was nothing optional about his attendance. \nWe read apropos of this son and of Mrs. Hutch- \ninson's brother-in-law, that \" they refused to come \nto the religious assemblies except when they were \nled and so they came duly.\" \n\nLa Tour came from Acadia in 1642 and brought \nhis men. They were Romanists, and of such \nsturdy metal that they felt the First Church could \nnot especially contaminate them, hence they \nwent to the services. This gave the First Church \nplenty to do for some little time, as the burning \nquestion of the hour at once became, \" Should \nthe First Church have league and fellowship with \nidolaters?\" A clothier, Samuel Gorton, from \n\n\nFirst Church, Boston, Mass. 21 \n\nLondon, became a disturber of the peace, since \nhe thought in some other way than did the First \nChurch (meaning Boston). The First Church \nmade it rather uncomfortable for him, but ex- \ncused itself on the ground that he had made \nhimself objectionable even to Roger Williams. \nWhat Roger Williams could not stand, certainly \nthe First Church did not feel called upon to stand. \nSamuel Gorton must have been a truculent \nwretch since he expressed a great willingness to \nhear Mr. Cotton preach provided he himself be \npermitted to answer Cotton. \"So in the after- \nnoon they came, and were placed in the fourth \nseat right before the elders.\" We learn that the \nclothier made good before the afternoon was out. \nThe Rev. Rufus Ellis, a preacher of the First \nChurch has recorded, \"After the manner of the \ntimes it was deemed necessary to punish him and \nhis friends with great severity, though happily \nfor the reputation of Massachusetts they escaped \nthe sentence of death which some proposed.\" \nWe have an exceedingly amusing account \nof another group of Romanists who came to \nBoston town. Unlike La Tour, who had been \nsnubbed and all but hanged for attending First \nChurch, these decided not to go at all, whereupon \n\n\n2 2 Old New England Churches \n\nthey were notified by the governor that it was \n\"our manner that all men either come to our \nmeetings or keep themselves quiet in their houses.\" \nThus we have the First Church in still another \nthroe of agony, on still another count. The matter \nseems to have been compromised, the governor \ninviting the \"Papists\" to his own house \"where \nthey remained till sunset, reading books in Latin \nand French and walking in his garden.\" It is \nadded that \"they gave no offence\" — presumably \nkept off the grass! \n\nThere is something so extremely absurd in the \nbumptiousness of this story that it is impossible \nto record it with the dignity of phrase and feeling \none is ordinarily inclined to use in treating mat- \nters of history. \n\nEven as early as 1650, we begin to see the de- \ncline of Puritanism. There was to be enough \nleft to relieve the next hundred and fifty years \nof anything like monotony; but its backbone \nwas broken for the reason that good citizenship \nand good church membership were not as a fact \nidentical, as the Puritan demanded they should be. \nA good many people wanted to vote who were \nunqualified to do so because they had not known \nthat spiritual regeneration, or degeneration, as \n\n\nFirst Church, Boston, Mass. 23 \n\none may interpret it, demanded by the church. \nIf not a member of the church, a man had no vote. \nThis situation might prevail for a time when \naffairs were inchoate, but when a man's vote \nbecame formahsed and meant something more \nthan a meeting in somebody's bam, and a jugghng \nwith straws or kernels of red and white com, \nthe citizen and the man began to speak. And \nwhen the citizen speaks, dogma takes a back seat \nevery time. The state began to come out from \namong the ecclesiastics and be separate. \n\nOne of the divines of the First Church, who \nbecame its historian, remarks wisely that the \nPuritan church \"was not a place for the nurture \nand maturing of Christians.\" He goes on to \nqualify this, somewhat spoiling an exceedingly \ngood statement, but we will not by quoting fur- \nther permit him to do himself this injustice. \n\nThe First Church deserves precedence, chrono- \nlogically; but in the summing up, it is possible \nthat First Church would be last in the Christian \nroll-call if judged by its too high-handed be- \nginnings. However, with all the rest of the \nintolerant sect. First Church met its hour of \nreform and regeneration, and grew to stand solidly \nfor the good things of the soul. \n\n\nOLD NORTH CHURCH, BOSTON, MASS. \n\n\nCHAPTER II \nOld North Church, Boston, Massachusetts \n\nTHE Second Church of Boston was the direct \nresult of the king-kilhng in England in 1649; \nand as the Rev. Mr. Van Ness has formulated it, \n\"The more visionary of the Puritans felt that the \nKing's downfall was synonymous with the es- \ntablishment of God's commonwealth.\" Thomas \nVan Ness discussed the beginnings of the Second \nChurch in so interesting a manner in a number of \nthe Outlook for 1903 that the compiler of this \nhistory can hardly do better than draw from \nthat material. \n\nThe regicidal happening gave such impetus \nto ecclesiastical affairs in this country that among \nother churches was founded \" ye Second Church of \nChriste in Boston.\" The geographical situation \nof this church gave to it the name of Old North. \nChronologically it was the second church. The \nNew Brick Church was an offshoot from this \nsociety. The historian points out how the very \n\nwords of the Covenant, \"We here freely this day \n\n27 \n\n\n28 Old New England Churches \n\ndo this thing,\" have been the dominant note in \nthis church, always. \"We here freely do this \nthine!\" We have in the Second Church a monu- \nment to the political as well as the religious liberty \nof that time. It was bom when the New World \nwas in a ferment. The pent-up British general \ncalled the Second Church a \"nest of traitors,\" \nwhich was enough to endear it to more than its \nimmediate parish. The first established preacher \nwas the Rev. John Mayo, and then came Increase, \nthen Cotton Mather. \n\nTo write of the Old North, the New Brick, the \nSecond Church, is to write of men and of Mathers; \nand of Cotton Mather's madness rather than of \nIncrease Mather's strength. Thus does the gauche, \nthe extreme, superficially dominate over the wise \nand moderate. As newspapers fill their columns \nwith stories of crime and wrong for the simple \nreason that these are news, while morality and \ndecency are so common as to have lost the news \nqualification, so does history, liker than not, \ndiscuss the erratic rather than the brilliant, \nthe superficial rather than the substantial, \nbecause they are dramatic and unusual, while wis- \ndom and reason are common. \n\nThe good works of Increase Mather, the church's \n\n\nOld North Church, Boston, Mass. 29 \n\nsecond preacher, were overshadowed by the crazy \nflights of his son, which finally ended in murder, \nexecration, and in Cotton Mather's self-pity. It \ndoes not seem necessary to outline the latter' s \nhistory, it has been so completely done again and \nagain. We speak of facts very well known, if \nnot especially well analysed, by the majority who \nhave acquaintance with ecclesiastical history. \nNow and then we find a biographer, such as Rob- \nbins, who hopes to make Mather's absurdities \nand outrages reflect a too pious mind, a too fine \nconscientiousness; but his very efforts to do \nthis, worry the careful reader with the utter \nfutility of his arguments in the light of facts \nwhich the biographer himself presents. In In- \ncrease Mather we have a character already verging \nupon the extreme. Since his calling was that of \na Puritan preacher, he was trained in the ways of \nsuperstition and theological limitation; but for all \nthat, so far as these limits permitted him to think \nindependently, we find him* thinking reasonably \nand well, and acting likewise. Could the world \nhave been spared the next generation of Mathers \nthe name would have left a pleasant taste, \ninstead of being \"ginger hot i' the mouth.\" \nCotton Mather lacked the governor of self-control \n\n\n30 Old New England Churches \n\n— a deficiency too frequently the excuse of erratic \nbeings. He was vain ; there is evidence that he was \nsensual; also he was superstitious — ^these three — \nand we do not know in which of them he was \ngreatest. That he was irritable, that he listed as \nthe wind bleweth, being disturbed in every thought \nby some superstitious reaction, were his grave mis- \nfortunes; but it is possible to regard these as \nsuperficialities — affairs of temperament from \nwhich the most serious, the most unselfish, the \nmost well-meaning might suffer. Those things \nwhich determine character were present in full \nforce, however, and they were of a sort which \nmake for evil rather than good. \nRobbins, in his apology, writes: \n\n\"The protuberance of a few eccentricities has \ndrawn out the elements of his character into \nfalse perspective. His oddities stand in the \nlight of his virtues. They give a grotesqueness \nto his whole being. They mark the man so strongly \nthat all who see them imagine they under- \nstand him. . . . They conclude they have \na true likeness, when they have only a broad \ncaricature, founded upon some odd feature or \ntwo; and, with a smile of satisfaction at their \nown penetration and his peculiarity, inquire no \ndeeper. But those who know only the eccen- \ntricities of Cotton Mather know but little about \nhim.\" \n\n\nOld North Church, Boston, Mass. 31 \n\nWhen eccentricities dominate, it is not im- \nproper to assume that in them we know the whole. \nWhen eccentricities dominate, they stand for char- \nacter. The ' ' protuberance of a few eccentricities ' ' \ncannot falsify character — not when it is illumined \nby time and a man's deeds. Emerson tells us \nthat consistency is the bugbear of little minds; \nmeaning consistency as interpreted by the relation \nof one finite act to another finite act; and he \nurges us in our judgment of character to regard \na man's deeds synthetically. It is fair instruction, \nand in regarding Cotton Mather's deeds syn- \nthetically, and in regarding his \"protuberances\" \nin the same way, it is fair to assume we have the \nman. Neither do \" oddities stand in the light \" \nof any man's virtues if the man be public enough \nand shall have lived long enough for us to weigh his \ndeeds in the balance against his oddities. Cotton \nMather lived long enough for us to do this thing, \nand has been dead long enough for us to say these \nthings. \n\nCyrano de Bergerac's nose was so ugly a nose \nthat it made him a very ugly man; albeit he had \na pair of eyes and a mouth — features not at all \nextraordinary, and eyes that were even beautiful ; \nbut Cyrano's nose prevailed. In his case his \n\n\n^2 Old New England Churches \n\n\"protuberance\" was not of the soul. It was a \nsuperficial one which nevertheless made him very- \nugly. It may have been that the spiritual \"pro- \ntuberance\" of Cotton Mather was no greater a \ndefect than Cyrano's nose was to his face, but it \nfairly gives us the spiritual Mather, and we do \nnot like him. Then his favourable biographer \nsays, \"The fact is, few characters are less intelli- \ngible; few harder to describe; few so many sided; \nfew have so little uniformity.\" And so on, ad \nnauseam until we have a full half page of un- \nsymmetrical details of character. Fortunately \none as mad as Mather was cannot influence even \nhis own generation beyond a limited extent. \nThe impulse that gave form and feature to the \n\"protuberances\" discussed by the Rev. Chandler \nRobbins, goes to make up the sum of character. \nThat biographer tells us it was Mather's \n''earnest desire and constant purpose to do good.'' \nIf this had been true, then the much wrong that \nhe did, being so far at variance with his intentions, \nhelps to marK him a mind diseased. The aberra- \ntion that induced a well-intentioned man to ap- \nprove when the life was squeezed out of goodman \nCorey, made such a man eligible to the penitentiary \nor to the gibbet. Such a man is mad or bad — \n\n\n«>x \n\n\nmil \n\n\no \n\n\n-o \n\n\nI \n\n3i \n\nC \n> \n\nin \n\n0 \n\nm \n\nU \n\n<; \n\nen \n\n-1 \n\ny. \n\no =^ \n\np \n\ni; i^ \n\nn \n\ng 3 \n\n0 \n\nS J3 \n\na \n\n>. \n\nfc- tn \n\na: \n\n>5 \n\nu \n\nX \n\n^.S \n\n:_) \n\nss \n\nl§ \n\nll \n\no \nu \n\n25 \n\nC o \n\n2S \n\nD \n\ncnj3 \n\nI \n\n£ \" \n\n> \n\n'X \n\n0 \n\nH \n\n^ \n\na \n\n\" , \n\nJ \n\n1- \n\no \n\n•^ \n\nri \n\nUl \n\nL. \n\na: \n\nH \n\no \n\n^j \n\nwi \n\nOJ \n\n2 \n\n< \n\n^ \n\n.- \n\nM \n\na \n\nW \n\nOld North Church, Boston, Mass. ^^ \n\nwe are hardly called upon to speculate which \nunless his disability carries him far enough to \nafflict others, as it did in Mather's case, and then \nit were a shame to present him falsely in order \nto give lustre or save odiimi to a people or to a \nreligion. \n\nDr. Hale has spoken of the Mathers as if they \nwere the impulse and the heartbeat of the wonder- \nful development in trade and civilisation that was \nknown in Boston during their time. \"At the \nbeginning here was a little village of perhaps five \nthousand people unknown *^o the world. At the \nend of it the commerce of Boston was larger than \nthat of Scotland and Ireland combined, and her \ndealings were with almost every port in Europe. \nThe Mathers and their people were doing their \nbest, in all this time, to infuse a divine life into \nsuch human affairs.\" But one is inclined to \nregard the period covered by Cotton Mather, a \ntemporary eclipse of progress so far as Mather's \nactivity is concerned. When we see the splendid \nvital forces of right thinking and responsible action \ndoing their work, it is in spite of the Mather \nadministration. Dr. Hale ignores the fact, in dis- \ncussing the Mathers, that New England was no \nlonger a theocracy; that sixteen years after the \n\n\n34 Old New England Churches \n\nMassachusetts Colony was founded the great \nmass of people — \"thousands\" says the petition — \nhad demanded their independence of the church. \nThey demanded civil rights without first having \nto qualify as Puritans. It was the majority that \nwas developing New England, while the Puritan \nfills the space we habitually give to \"news\" — the \nexceptional; the grotesque perhaps; certainly \nthe picturesque. \n\nDr. Hale in his apology for Cotton Mather \nreminds us that he wrote the book on \" Invisible \nWonders \" when a very young man, and the book \nis \" not one whit more absurd than the absurd \nbooks which absurd people write to-day.\" But \nhe does not point out that to-day we either re- \ngard the people who write absurd books more \nor less indulgently as people who are more or less \nunsound or else such books are frankly admitted \nby their writers to be fairy tales. Hauptmann \nwrote Die versunkene Glocke, but we are not hang- \ning people because an author chooses to make \nliterary material of nixies and other uncanny things. \nWhen Cotton Mather wrote of \" Invisible Won- \nders \" he compelled his flock to live up to them \nor to have their lives crushed out. \n\nMather's was at no time a master mind, nor \n\n\n■n -^ \n\nH \n\nS 2 \n\nU -^ \n\n< V \n\n\nH _ \nO g \n\nu S \n\n\no \nc \n\n\nO \n\nw ? \n\n^ E \n\nfa •\" \n\nO £ \n\no o- \n\n»— 4 o \n\n\nOld North Church, Boston, Mass. 35 \n\nwas his the master hand among his people. He \nwas the abject slave of his own fears and dis- \ntractions, and his feverishness influenced others \nonly momentarily, gaining response from a few \nfebrile souls like his own. The natural health \nthat was in the community prevailed, and he \nfound himself so much despised that he wrote \nwith a whimpering weakness — enough to have \nmade a great man contemptible — when he found \nhimself hoisted by his own petard. \n\n\"Some,\" he wrote \"on purpose to affront me, \ncall their negroes by the name of Cotton Mather, \nso that they may with some shadow of truth assert \ncrimes committed by one of that name which the \nhearers take me to be.\" Here speaks a mind \ndiseased if ever one spoke. Doubtless negroes \nwere given the name of Cotton Mather in derision \nor contempt by those who at last vehemently \nprotested against the Mather regime; but only \na mind capable of profound meanness could find \na deeper motive, the well constructed vindic- \ntiveness which Mather discovered. \n\n\"Where is the man whom the female sex have \nspit so much of their venom at?\" \n\n\" Where is the man who has been so tormented \nwith such monstrous relatives?\" \n\n\n36 Old New England Churches \n\n\"There is not a man in the world so reviled, \nso slandered, so cursed among sailors.\" \n\n\" The College forever puts all possible marks \nof disesteem upon me.\" \n\n\" My company is as little sought for, and there \nis as little resort unto it as any minister that I \nam acquainted with.\" \n\n\" And many look upon me as the greatest sinner.\" \n\nObviously this man was a paranoiac; other- \nwise it was all true, and he was a villain. It is \nlike piling Pelion upon Ossa to continue to quote \nthe excess of incident which goes to prove either \nof these theories. So much for his character. \n\nBut he had a reputation in his day for intel- \nlectuality and for having made contributions to \nliterature. As a fact, he had cerebral provision \nfor an extraordinary memory, which is not neces- \nsarily the sign of profound intellectuality. This \npower of memory enabled him to store up and \ncollate an immense amount of fact ; but it was all \nfutile since he so presented facts as to make him- \nself almost useless as an historian. His Mag- \nnalia is given place not in serious literature \nbut among literary freaks, and the Rev. Henry \nWare in his biographical discussion of Mather \nremarks brilliantly : ' ' That it has been so regarded as \n\n\nOld North Church, Boston, Mass. 37 \n\na literary freak is proof sufficient that its merit is \nquite equivocal. As a storehouse of documents \nand facts relating to the early history of the \ncountry it may be consulted with advantage; but \nit is so strangely written as to become heavy in the \nreader's hands, and so mingled with the credulity and \npuerility of the author's mind, that even Neal, a con- \ntemporary writer and correspondent, hardly vent- \nured to cite him as an authority. ' ' So much for \nthe value of his contributions to history. \n\nAs for his scholarship, it would be an anti- \nclimax to discuss his fatal orthography! \n\nThe church was established in 1650, but it was \nnot until 1655 that it had its first preacher. There \nhave been three periods of great development \nin this church, which have directly enhanced its \nspiritual history, and these times were when the \nchurch was in the hands of Increase Mather, Ralph \nWaldo Emerson, and Henry Ware, Jr. Mr. Van \nNess has ably commented upon this: \n\n\" Increase Mather was not as great a preacher \nas his son ; Emerson was one of the poorest pastors ; \nand Henry Ware, Jr., could not rank with Lathrop \nas a controversialist, nor indeed with those who \ncame after him as a public speaker. Why, then, \nby common consent were these three men singled \nout from the rest as representative?\" \n\n\n38 Old New England Churches \n\nMr. Van Ness regards the preaching of Increase \nMather as \" most of it rubbish,\" and reminds us that \nhis books are not read, but that he did possess that \n' 'highest kind of courage — moral courage. ' ' Increase \nMather's moral courage, of which there was small \nsign in his son, Cotton, was indubitably proved at \nthe time he went before the General Court when \nthe Charter was in peril. Pushing his way before \nthe General Court, as it was about to surrender \nto the Royal Commissioners, in a speech which \nelectrified all who heard, he exclaimed: \n\n\" I hope there is not a free man in Boston that \ncan be guilty of such a thing. We shall sin against \nthe God of Heaven if we do this thing.\" \n\nAll know the story of his flight to England and \nof his further activity in that matter. We have \nthese examples of that force felt throughout his \nministry; and being less hampered by erraticism \nthan was his son. Increase Mather was a true guide \nto his people. \n\nIn speaking of Emerson, \"one of the poorest \npastors,\" Mr. Van Ness points to his essays, re- \nminding one of the dominant note found in them — \nhope. \n\nOf Henry Ware another writer has said, \"He \nwas the embodiment of sympathy. When with \n\n\nOld North Church, Boston, Mass. 39 \n\nhim all sorts and conditions of men forgot their \ndifferences, and were made one in a common \nfellowship.\" Thus we see how much farther- \nreaching is intellectual and spiritual force than \npersonality. The latter may give us all the de- \nlight that do the walnuts and the wine, but it is \nthe very substantial dinner that has gone before \nwhich sustains us. \n\nThe Second Church is less dependent upon \naccident and incident for the making of its history, \nthan upon men and manners. There are certain \npicturesque stories belong to this church, such as \nthe tale of the Paul Revere lights — claimed by both \nChrist's Church and the Old North. We sym- \npathise with the spirit which impels either \nchurch to attach to itself even the merest shred of \nthat which was the glory of the race — the history \nof the world in 1 776 — our patriotic deeds of derring- \ndo! But as a matter of fact, the internal evidence \nis too strongly in favour of the Old North Church \nfor us to give credit to any other for those belfry \nlights, which, in all probability never did exist in \ntheir relation to Paul Revere and the particular \noccasion for which they seem to have been in- \nvented. There is plenty of evidence to nega- \ntive the whole story but if it did happen that \n\n\n40 Old New England Churches \n\nthe Paul Revere lights were to be hung — \"one \nif by land and two if by sea\" — to inform him of \nthe movements of the British, it is not reasonable \nto suppose that they would have been placed in \nChrist's Church, a Tory church, instead of in the \nother so notoriously the \" nest of traitors \" to Tory \nsympathies and British interests. Although there \nis a world of incident connected with this church, \nit is difficult to heed it with so much of human docu- \nment on every hand, for men are always more \ninteresting than things. \n\nThe duties of citzenship were shouted, whispered, \nentreated, and commanded from this pulpit. Mr. \nLathrop preached of the Revolution. He proph- \nesied civil war; he cried one day \"Americans, \nrather than be hewers of wood or drawers of water \nfor any nation in the world, will spill their best \nblood.\" Gage seems to have had some authority \nfor his opinion of Second Church. It made \nRevolutionary history! \n\nVan Ness, discussing Paul and history and the \neleventh chapter of Hebrews does some excellent \nthinking. He says that self-glorification and \npersonal fame were farthest from Paul's thoughts \nwhen he wrote that chapter; \" yet such is the law \nof virtue,\" he continues, \"that while he who shall \n\n\nOld North Church, Boston, Mass. 41 \n\nglorify himself shall be forgotten, yet he who for \nrighteousness' sake is willing to be debased and \nheld in small esteem shall live forever and ever. \nTherefore it is that, try as Paul will, the eleventh \nchapter of Hebrews commemorates not Barak or \nSamson or Jephthah or any of the others whom \nthe apostle sought to rescue from oblivion, but \ncommemorates Paul himself.\" This certainly was \ntrue, but we must remember that Paul did not \nhave American history for his subject. If he had, \neven Paul might have been lost sight of. \n\nWhen war came, it seems to have been for- \ntuitous in more ways than one; a necessary climax \nto the extraordinary psychical condition into which \nthese people had got themselves. At first this \ncondition seemed a sort of hypnotism exercised bv a \nfew upon the mass, which became a general self- \nhypnotism, until the emotion spread like hysterics \nin a girls' boarding school. Then war came with \nits fearful actualities, leaving the people no time \nfor vagaries, bogies, hysterics. War, the real \nthing! War, that excellent thing which sweeps \naway the cobwebs for a period, which breeds a \ngeneration or so of clear-thinking, courageous \nmen — the effect of which is felt after that imme- \ndiate period of desolation and disorganization \n\n\n42 \n\n\nOld New England Churches \n\n\nwhich follows war, is over; felt at the time when \nthe war generation begins to mature! \n\nLathrop preached from this pulpit: \"Those \nprinciples which justify rulers in making war upon \nrebellious subjects justify the people in making war \nupon rebellious rulers.'' > These things from the \nSecond Church pulpit nearly created sympathy \nfor the British when they pulled down that \" nest \nof traitors\" at their earliest convenience. Joys \nare always reactionary and this act of a British \nGeneral did not detract from the exceedingly good \ntime the people of Second Church had on that \nday when Howe marched out of and Washing- \nton marched into Boston. \n\nAfter this house was demolished, the people of \nSecond Church were invited to worship with the \nsociety of the New Brick — child of the Second \nChurch! Dr. Lathrop then preached to the united \npeople. \n\nProbably the first crusade against intemperance, \nwhich was so great a curse of the colonies, was \nundertaken in this pulpit by Henry Ware. It was \nhe who had the courage to write against the evil, \nto preach against it, and who by reason of his \nprecedence as a citizen and as a preacher, gave more \nimpetus to the movement than could any organ!- \n\n\nSICOND-CHURCH' \n\n\nPhotograph by Baldwin Coolidge \n\n\nBUST OF EMERSON WHICH IS IN THE SECOND CHURCH \n\n\nOld North Church, Boston, Mass. 43 \n\nsat ion against rum drinking then have given. \nChanning was talking at this time, and the spirit \nof humanity and dignity was getting the upper \nhand of the old intemperance of feeling by \nwhich the Puritan had so long dominated. Then \nafter Mr. Ware, came \" the tall, spare young man \nwith the sweet, mild face\" — Emerson. Mr. \nVan Ness discusses this accident of Emerson in the \nSecond Church pulpit beautifully and interestingly. \nThe conventional Second Church and the free, \nstrong-thinking, vital Emerson! Mr. Van Ness \nrepudiates the thought that he came to the pulpit \nby mere chance, any more than John Lathrop \ncame by chance sixty years before. He puts it, \n\" No ; like draws like, whether among the atoms, \nthe stars, or among men.\" And in witnessing \nthe result of Emerson in the Second Church we \nare inclined to think Mr. Van Ness is right. But \ncould the result of Emerson in relation to any- \nthing have been other than luminant ? \n\nMr. Van Ness plays again and again upon the \nwords of the covenant: \n\n\" 'Being called of God, I freely do this thing.' \nThat same phrase, doubtless. Increase Mather \nwould have used if asked what prompted him \nto speak so heroically at the town meeting. It \n\n\n44 Old New England Churches \n\nis the initial impulse given to the church by its \nfounders, which, continuing into the nineteenth \ncentury, led Emerson to stand forth in moral \nbravery and plead for freedom of spirit instead \nof slavish adhesion to form. 'Being called of \nGod to do this thing!' What better reason coul.d \nEmerson have given for his action?\" \n\nMr. Van Ness is discussing the happening of Mr. \nEmerson into the Second Church from the es- \nsentially theological viewpoint, as we should ex- \npect him to do, but even the unregenerate is in- \nclined to enter into this God-logic with Mr. Van \nNess, when he thinks of Emerson, the great, free \nsoul! Mr. Van Ness points out that the reason \nfor the severance of the relations between Emer- \nson and the Second Church was not a difference \nof opinion as to how the Lord's Supper should be \ncelebrated but a conflict between formalism and \nfreedom: \" 'I thought to carry them with me,' \nEmerson acknowledged in after years in speaking \nof his views, 'I thought to carry them with me.' \" \nCommenting on this Van Ness writes: \n\n\" Ah, Emerson would have known better had he \nbeen forty-nine instead of twenty-nine. Youth \ndoes not and cannot appreciate at its full worth \nthe power of memories, of sentiment, of association. \nIt was this power which defeated him when the \nvote was taken, not the radicalism of his views. \n\n\nTHE MINISTER'S WINDOW. SECOND CHURCH, BOSTON \n\n\nOld North Church, Boston, Mass. 45 \n\n\"The Second Church never stood for creed \nor dogma. It has never had in its pulpit the \nfounder of any logical system of theology. \n\n\"A Jonathan Edwards, aBushnell, a Dr. Palfry, \neven a Channing could not well have been devel- \noped in its atmosphere. The initial impulse \nof the church, as was said before, was not theo- \nlogical, but practical. The organisation crystal- \nlised around a contract or covenant, not around \na creed or statement of faith. The Second Church \nis now classified as Unitarian, yet its original \ncovenant has never been altered or erased from \nthe membership book. Just when the change \nin thought took place, no one can determine\" \n\n— and no one cares to determine who is blinded \nby the flash of history illumined by the Second \nChurch. \n\n\nKING'S CHAPEL, BOSTON, MASS. \n\n\nCHAPTER III \nKing's Chapel, Boston, Massachusetts \n\nKING'S CHAPEL was the first Episcopalian \nchurch in New England. Unlike the \nchurch of the Puritans it was a missionary \nenterprise pure and simple; hence established \nand peopled by those whose sole purpose was \nthe worship of God and the propagation of \nthe Gospel as they understood it. Their un- \nderstanding of it was much simpler than that \nof the Puritans who had tried so hard to achieve \nsimplicity, that their religion had become a very \ncomplicated thing indeed. In pointing out the \nextreme rottenness of the Church of England at \nthat time in its own country, the Rev. Howard \nN. Brown, of King's Chapel reminds us how re- \naction must follow extreme conditions; and how \nthe Puritan's intolerance of anything that stood \nfor the institution which had persecuted him was \nan inevitable result of the Church of England's \nwork. He also reminds us that the Puritans \nwere unable to recognise in an emigration from \n\n49 \n\n\n50 Old New England Churches \n\nthe English Church to this country a possible sin- \ncerity of religious purpose, a purity of motive in \npeople who had ventured even as the Puritans had. \nUntil then all the action had been in England \nand taken by the Established Church; the re- \naction now felt in America and by the Estab- \nlished Church indicated a vindictiveness which \nwas deplorable but perhaps the most human \nthing in Puritanism. The real objection to this \nstate of Puritan affairs is that too much was laid \nto the Lord. \"Vengeance is mine!\" — the Puri- \ntans considered themselves the instrument and \nwere glad to be chosen for the work. In preaching \nof God as a God of vengeance and without \nmercy, they simply adapted their Deity to their \nown inclinations. \n\nThe missionary church sought a pied a terre \nin the New World which it might call its own, \nbut this was for a long time denied it. Andros, \nthe execrated, was the Church of England's \nsaviour at that time, and partly as a consequence \nhe is needlessly misrepresented to the schoolboy \nof to-day. One hundred years after it becomes \npossible to regard any occurrence that could \npossibly have taken place, without prejudice, \nthough not unemotionally. \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 51 \n\nIn the days when events moved slowly, the \nworld may have needed a thousand years in which \nto weigh and forgive offences; but to-day a hun- \ndred years can make and unmake nations. A \ncity may be wiped out to-day and to-morrow be \nregarded tranquilly as ancient history. A new \nworld blossoms in a desert and next week we have \nceased to be surprised. A hundred years should \nhave been time enough for Americans who have \ncrowded several centuries into one, to think upon \nthe conditions of two hundred and fifty years ago \njudiciously and without prejudice; to weigh \nmen and events with great precision, in the \nbalance with American emotions. But this has \nnot been done; or if it has it is time for school- \nboard energy to censor the text-book list and \nexpunge from it those treatises bound to offend \nthe fair-minded. \n\nEugene Sue says somewhere, that the man who \nlacks enthusiasm is fit for treasons, stratagems, \nand spoils — of course not using Shakespearian \nphrase. Even French energy has hardly over- \nstepped the bounds of truth in making the state- \nment; but fairmindedness does not imply a lack \nof enthusiasm for our own exploits, nor does it \nforbid us to leave our enemies still clothed with a \n\n\nC2 Old New England Churches \n\nrag of character while we are putting on our \nermine. It does not dignify the victor's cause \nnor magnify his victory to have him behttle \nhis adversary. \n\nThere are certain names, mostly British, which \nthe schoolboy is taught to regard as the epitome \nof all that is vile, while it would seem to any fairly \nintelligent person that our erstwhile enemies had \na pretty decent credit account of character; that \neven in the eighteenth century, they were human \nbeings who stood for their prerogative to think \nfor themselves and to enslave others even as we \nwere doing. \n\nIn Andros we had a man attending to his \nbusiness, and in an exceedingly one-sided fight \nwe punished him and all of his. Our colossal \ntriumph over such colossal odds might by this \ntime excuse in us a moderate and even generous \nregard for those past events and people. \n\nAndros did not persecute the Puritans in the \nexercise of his abominated Church of England \nreligion, but he did commit an offence which to- \nday seems so grave that it colours a good deal \nof the history of colonial times, as even now \nrecorded. Andros's interference with Puritan \nhospitality sealed his fate, wrote his American \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 53 \n\nepitaph, and delivered him over to schoolboy \ncriticism till the crack of Puritan doom. Andros \ncompelled the Old South Church to open its doors \nto worshippers not of our Heavenly set: worship- \npers who as yet on this alien soil had committed \nno act of intolerance or wrong to disfranchise \nthem when the vote of humanity should come to \nbe cast. The new-comers were greatly in the \nminority and the Puritans had a beautiful oppor- \ntunity to apply a Christian principle, and to do \nunto the English Church even as the Puritans \nwould have had that Church do unto it, some time \nbefore this. But the opportunity was missed. \nAnd what the Puritans refused to do in common \ncourtesy and brotherhood, they were roughly \ncompelled to do by Andros. A refusal to let the \nEpiscopalians hold their service in the meeting \nhouse brought a demand from Andros to hand \nover that property for the purpose. The refusal \nof this demand was necessary, expedient; but \nthe necessity for it might have been avoided if a \nlittle diplomatic recognition of the stranger within \nthe gates had been made. \n\nIt would make nicer history if we could record \na superhuman foresight on the part of our ances- \ntors ; but since they were simply human in spite of \n\n\n^4 Old New England Churches \n\nbeing Puritan, and could see only the political \naspect of the case, there is nothing for us but to \nrejoice in our superior hindsight and modestly \nto approve of the men who made and fought the \nRevolution. They had no time to spare for latter- \nday elegancies of war. While they hilled up the \npotatoes with one hand and fought with the other, \nthey had to make the people go to meeting with \nboth right along. \n\nThe King's Chapel folk held their services in \nthe Old South for some time, and having got per- \nmission by force they grinned and made the most \nof it, till Judge Sewall was minded to write quite \ntearfully : \n\n\"Last sabbath day, March 27, Govr. and his \nretinue met in our Meetingh. at eleven: broke off \nhalf past two, bee. of ye sacrement and Mr. Clark's \nlong sermon, though we were appointed to come \nhalf past one; so 'twas a sad sight to see how \nfull ye street was with people gazing and moving \nto and fro, bee. had no entrance into ye house.\" \n\nIf that tremendous old man could to-day witness \nhis grief of more than two hundred years ago, it \nwould doubtless amuse him — nobody could see \nboth sides of a question better than he, after he \ngot round to it. \n\nThe royal governors sat in the Old South under \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 55 \n\nRatcliffe, and all the while the King's Chapel folk \nwere trying to induce somebody to sell them a \nlittle ground for their building and at last the \nGovernor had again to interfere. He set aside a \ncorner of the burial ground for their use, and \nimmediately King's Chapel began to rise. It \nwas ready in 1689. Apropos of nothing imme- \ndiate, there is a very clear statement which \nshould be quoted from Foote's \" Annals of King's \nChapel\": \n\n\" New England has perhaps never quite appre- \nciated its obligation to Archbishop Laud. It \nwas his over-mastering hate of nonconformity, \nit was the vigilance and vigour and consecrated \ncruelty with which he scoured his own diocese \nand afterward all England, and hunted out the \nministers who were committing the unpardon- \nable sin of dissent, that conferred upon the prin- \ncipal colonies of New England their ablest and \nnoblest men. Indeed without Laud, those col- \nonies perhaps never would have had an existence.\" \n\nIt was that intolerance, practised here by the \nPuritans and in England by Laud, which was \none cause of peopling this country with men who \nfor vigour and tenacity never have been \nequalled. \n\nIt was Ratcliffe who bore the burden and heat \nof the first day of Episcopalianism in America; \n\n\n56 Old New England Churches \n\nand it was the son of a Baptist minister who \nsucceeded him— the Rev. Samuel Myles. \n\nThe Chapel was furnished at the time by King \nWilliam III, and later by King George III. The \nfamous Brattle organ, given by Thomas Brattle, \nbelonged to this church before it found its abiding \nplace in Portsmouth. After Myles, came the \nRev. Roger Price, and during his induction into \noffice there occurred a Church of England cere- \nmony which was amusing. The Rev. Mr. Howard \nBrown mentions this in a sketch of King's Chapel, \nand says that after Price's \n\n\"credentials had been read in church, all the \npeople present 'went out of the church, the church \nwardens at the door delivering the key of the \nchurch to the Rev. Mr. Price, who, locking himself \nin the church, tolled the bell, and then unlocked \nthe door of the church, receiving the church war- \ndens and vestrymen into the church again, who \nwished him joy upon his having the church.' \n\nAfter Price came the Rev. Henry Caner. His \nfirst duty was to forward the erection of King's \nChapel as it now stands, and the comer stone \nwas laid in 1749. In connection with Caner we \nhave another tragi-humourous anecdote. Viewed \nwithin a month after its occurrence it would \nbrand the Rev. Mr. Caner as a robber of the first \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 57 \n\nmagnitude, because as a matter of fact he stole \nthe plate and the church records; but with a \nhundred years' perspective we think with not a \nlittle tender sympathy of an act which demon- \nstrated the conscientious agonisings of a truly \ngood man. When Caner found the British evacuat- \ning Boston, his Mother Country with which he \nsympathised beaten, he cast his lot with the \nvanquished, and with eighteen other clergymen \nhe sailed back to England with the fleet. It \nwas then that he took with him the church plate. \nIn all probability he felt that he was serving God \nin keeping the plate from falling into the vandal's \nhands — we being the vandal. No one knows \nwhere this plate is now, but the records came \nback. It is supposed that the communion ser- \nvice was distributed among the other churches \nin America by the Society for the Propagation \nof the Gospel. \n\nThe only Episcopalian minister left in Boston \nwas the assistant minister of Trinity, and he \nalso served the congregation of King's Chapel \nat this time. The congregation went over to \nTrinity and, taking advantage of a glorious oppor- \ntunity, it opened its own doors to the Old South \nChurch, whose building had been ruined by the \n\n\neS Old New England Churches \n\nBritish. Dr. Warren of Bunker Hill fame was \nburied from King's Chapel under these circum- \nstances. The Old South was doubtless then \nmore appreciative than it had been hospitable \nat the time when the King's Chapel congregation \nsought to worship in its building. \n\nIn 1782 occurred an incident, notable not in \nitself but in its bearing upon large events. A \nyoung man, Mr. James Freeman, served the con- \ngregation as a lay reader and he made his way \nso completely into the hearts of the people that \nthey determined to have him for their rector; \nbut he had never been ordained. Now when \nDr. Caner and the eighteen other clergymen \nsailed away, it rid the church of the incubus of \nstrict conformity and rigidity of administration. \nIt left, in short, the very flower of clerical intellect \nto serve and the flower of the congregation to \nprofit. Mr. James Freeman was so liberal, so \nentirely human in his views that he precisely \nsuited the people to whom he ministered — a \nfact which in itself made him quite unsuited to \nordination if he must receive it at the hands of \nthe Mother Church. Ordination was refused him \nfrom that source, and perhaps an immediate \ncause of the refusal was that under his guidance \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 59 \n\nKing's Chapel people had become so liberal that \nthey altered their prayer book so as to leave out \nall reference to the Trinity. Thus without know- \ning it, King's Chapel was bom again; and the \nsecond time, Unitarian. The Chapel did not \nrealise that its act would make a breach between \nit and other Episcopalian churches, but as a \nmatter of fact the breach was so great that no \nbishop whomsoever would ordain their favourite \nminister. In this situation, King's Chapel, which \nwas quite sufficient unto itself, severed for good \nand all its relations with British ecclesiastical \nauthority, and immediately proceeded to ordain \nits own minister. \n\nNow, again, we have a shining example of re- \naction; for not only did it ordain its own minister, \nbut from that day to this it has absolutely re- \nfused to let any other church have any part in \nthe installation of its preachers. \n\nWashington, who was at the time our president, \nattended a concert in King's Chapel — ^Washington \nin the hated Church of England, yet our Best Be- \nloved from the hour when we began to mean \nanything to ourselves! This certainly helps to \nprove that the religion of the Puritans was, \nafter all, only skin deep, that this religion was \n\n\n6o Old New England Churches \n\nthe vehicle, the occasion for an obstinate set of \nmen inclined to cruelty because of the persecu- \ntions which they in turn had endured, to exercise \na complete if temporary ascendency over all who \nwere within their gates. Their religion was simply \nan exhibition of the temperamental principles \nof their character. They were emotionally ele- \nmental, but they jealously guarded power and \nprecedence with an exceedingly well developed \nsense of worldly values. If their religion had been \nprofounder than their characters, there would \nhave been no United States. As it was, it was \na superficiality. Superficialities may do a deal \nof harm before they are suppressed or atrophied, \nbut we can regard all things of those times \ntolerantly except the intolerance; and even if \nwe cannot tolerate that, we can see a reason for \nits having been. \n\nPerhaps nothing better illustrates the large \nlordliness of these New England people than the \nclaim of William Blackstone, who was a clergy- \nman. He \"claimed the whole peninsula upon \nwhich Boston is built, because he was the first \nthat slept upon it.\" But we must remember \nthat it was a large country which was the occasion \nof such large ideas ! That one of a very few thou- \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 6i \n\nsand people should choose the whole of Massa- \nchusetts for his bedroom would not have been so \nerratic and egotistical a thing as might appear. \nIf these men had only realised that we ran clear \nthrough to the Pacific Ocean and how much of \nus there was north and south, doubtless each \none^ of them would have taken a large fraction of \nthe globe for his oWn exclusive dwelling place. \nAt that period of our history, as well as now, we \nhad no sort of notion that any other people existed, \nor possibly might exist. Who doubts that we \nhave at all times known ourselves to be the Lord's \nanointed ! \n\nThere is something really very beautiful m the \nfarewell to England of those Church of England \nemigrants who were to have their place among \nthe strong and wise of our country. When they \nhad sailed from the sight of Land's End they \nhad said, Higginson being their spokesman: \n\n\" We will not say, as the Separatists are wont to \nsay, on their leaving England, 'Farewell, Babylon! \nFarewell, Rome!' but we will say, 'Farewell, \ndear England, and all the Christian friends there!' \nWe do not go to New England as Separatists \nfrom the Church of England though we cannot \nbut separate from the corruptions in it; but we \ngo to practise the positive part of the church \n\n\n62 Old New England Churches \n\nreformation, and propagate the Church in Amer- \n\n\nica. \n\n\nThere was a universaUty of feehng, sympathy, \nand gentleness of purpose in this attitude of the \nEpiscopal emigrants, which was sometimes re- \nflected in a very local and personal regard felt \nby the different Puritan settlements for each other. \nIn Boston all the rigours of Sabbath day ob- \nservance seem to have been centred. Foote \nwrites of this most conprehensively : \n\n\" The Lord's-day began at sunset on Saturday. \nThrough its hours no one was permitted to leave \nor enter the town, the gates on the 'Neck' being \nshut and the ferry watched, while throughout \nthe country travelling was strictly prevented. \nNor was it allowed 'even in the hottest days of \nsummer, to take the air on the Common' or on \nthe wharves adjacent to the houses; and fine \nand imprisonment awaited those who, meeting \nin the street and conversing there, did not dis- \nperse at the first notice. In 1767 the Court \nordered that any person making a noise during \nthe day, or misbehaving in the meeting house, \nshould be 'put in a cage, to be set up in the market \nplace,' and be kept there and examined and pun- \nished.\" \n\nBut this theocracy could not be long maintained; \nits life of fifty years even was extraordinary; \nbecause after all there was a very heterogeneous \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 63 \n\nmass in this country, and individual opinion \nspeaks all the time, even if under its breath. \n\nChristmas f^tes, of course, had been forbidden \nfrom the start; but with the New England \nEpiscopal church camping in a comer of the Puri- \ntan burying ground, the former Christmas cus- \ntoms quivered an eyelid and more or less awoke. \nJudge Sewall who wrote about ever3rthing and \nanything from the very bottom of his soul, noted \nin his diary in 1685: \n\n' ' Xr, 2 5 , Friday. Carts come to town, and Shops \nopen as usual: some people observe ye day: \nbut are vex'd I believe that ye Body of ye People \nprofane it, and blessed be God no authority yet \nto compell them to keep it.\" \n\nAnd also he wrote earlier than this: \n\n\" Mr. Randolph and his new wife set in Mr. \nJoy cliff e's pue (in the South Church) ; and Mrs. \nRandolph is observed to make a curtsy at Mr. \nWillard's naming Jesus, even in Prayer-Time.\" \n\nThus small things were bound to leave a sign. \n\nAt the time RatclifEe came here with the char- \nter, these people who had been for fifty years \nwithout an exhibition of the Episcopalian forms \nof worship regarded them very much as they \nwould regard a circus. Dunton describes the \nimpression made: \n\n\n64 Old New England Churches \n\n\" Mr. Ratcliffe was the parson that came over with \nthe charter, who was a very Excellent Preacher, \nwhose Matter was good, and the dress in which \nhe put it Extraordinary, he being as well an orator \nas a preacher. The next Sunday after he landed \nhe preach' d in the Town-house, and read common \nPrayer in his Surplice, which was so great a \nnovelty to the Bostonians that he had a very \nlarge audiance; I myself happening to go thither \nfor one, it was told about Town as a piece of \nWonder, That Dr. Anneslay's Son-in-law was \nturned apostate; So little Charity have some \nmen in new England for all that have larger \nCharity than themselves.\" \n\nThe Puritans saw in this new church a political \nmachine, and such it was. Beyond all question \nit was so designed by the politicians, but its \ncongregation was by no means made up of them \nbut of as staunch Americans-by-adoption, as \nwere the Puritans. We have plenty of evidence \nof that in their deeds. The fact that King's \nChapel broke away absolutely even from the \necclesiastical rule of England and set up shop \nfor itself, when there came to be a single point \nof difference, proves that the society was all for \nthe New World and naught for the Old. What- \never the purpose of the Church and State in En- \ngland in establishing the Episcopal Church in \nAmerica, it was bound to miscarry whenever it \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 65 \n\nshould become inimical to colonial independence \nof action. Does not one of those missionary \nchurches persistently claim the Paul Revere \nlights, so valued was the glory of the Revolution \nby those who in any way belonged to the right \nside of it? \n\nThe Puritan idea tended to make men slaves \nof a Theocracy, but the human idea came first \nand it prevailed when the occasion arose for action. \nIn reading the history of that time one is inclined \nsuperficially to believe that the Puritan religion \nfilled all space, but this was not so. As long as \nnothing larger than this fetich occupied the Puri- \ntans' minds they clung to it. They were a people \nwho found it constitutionally necessary to in- \nvolve themselves. Our civilisation is founded \nupon the most emotional period the world has \never known. Our emotions happened to find \nan outlet for the space of a hundred years or more \nin a religion, at the end of which time came war \n— an opportunity even more to our liking. \n\nWe have grown to associate emotion with \ndecadence — Roman orgies or Oriental fanati- \ncism; mercurialism and temperament, with \nGallic high-falutin; yet when we contemplate \nsuch of its phases we are regarding emotion in its \n\n\n66 Old New England Churches \n\nleast serious aspect. There has never been any- \nthing to compare with the volcanic emotional \nsystem of our forefathers in this country. A \npeople whose imagination enabled them to see \nthe end before most people would have grasped \nthe beginning; seeing the end, they lived up \nto it every minute, and had little time to \nloose their emotions upon trivialities. We have \nnever been known either as great weepers or as an \nexceptionally laughter-loving folk, but we under- \nstand both laughter and tears, and at the same \ntime we furnish more material for both than any \nother nation on the face of the earth. \n\nIn the Dutch we find a people whose heroism \nwas comparable with the heroism of the American \ncolonists; but to us it loses slightly because of \nDutch phlegmaticism. When the Dutch declared \nthat when they had eaten one arm they still \nwould fight with the other, we cannot help feeling \nthat the Dutch would have minded both the \nfeast and the fight somewhat less than we would \nhave done. A people of an extraordinarily \nfine, nervous temper are a more remarkable ex- \nhibition in the arena than are they who while \nbeing killed do not object to killing. \n\nWe belong rather to the deliberate fighters than \n\n\n..^ \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 67 \n\nto the choleric. The Puritan established himself \nhere on a religious basis, principally because he was \nbom resistant; and the thing along the line of \ngreatest resistance at the time of our beginnings, \nwas a. Puritan religion. \n\nThe stuff those people were made of would \nhave been evident just as surely had they met \nwith any other kind of antagonism. The Puritan \nhad been taught by the Church of England— that \npast-master of cruelty; and he had so little of \nChristianity, and was so nearly the elemental \nman at that time, that the Hebraic law stood \nfor all the meaning there was to him in life. He \nwanted an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, \nand knew so much better than most people how \nto get them that the results were very horrible and \nvery depressing. Only the magnificence of war \nmade those nervous people, people of nerve, and \ngave them health. \n\nKing's Chapel nearly lost its name after the \nwar, becoming the Stone Chapel, but later some \nexceedingly adaptable person pointed out that \nit could be called the church of the King of kings. \nThus without discrepancy between act and feeling \nit was able to take back the old name of King's \nChapel. \n\n\n68 Old New England Churcftes \n\nHenry Wilder Foote has said that \" there was a \ntime when it would have been thought unpatriotic \nfor us not to be ashamed of the fact that King \nGeorge's officials and the tory gentry went here \nto church.\" The patriotism of no society stood \nthe test better than did that of King's Chapel. \nIts first clergyman after the war, had been a war \nprisoner in a British receiving ship. These people \nfound themselves in a most trying and difficult \nposition; they were actively opposing England, yet \nthey were not unnaturally suspected by the \ncolonists, since they stood for the hated Church. \nThey seem to have gained an enemy at home \nand made no friend abroad, and for a time it \nrequired heroism indeed to support this situa- \ntion. \n\nKing's Chapel still has its extraordinary furni- \nture given it by him who was once its king. \nOne row of pipes is left of that organ which Handel \nhimself doubtless chose. The bill of lading of \nthe organ is preserved. It reads thus: \" Shipped \nby the grace of God in good order and well con- \nditioned, etc. \"and ends with \"Amen.\" Many \nother relics of that time are as they were when \nthey first came into the possession of King's \nChapel. The building itself being pre-revolutionary \n\n\nPhotograph by E. E. Sodcrholtz, Boston \nIN THE OALLERY OF KING'S CHAPEL, BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS \nThe (liurch from which Cancr stole the communion service \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 69 \n\n4 \n\na volume of romantic incidents might be built \nof material provided by it. \n\nThe Bible in use to-day was the gift of the \nKing. The communion rail was sent to King's \nChapel from England. When the organ was \nput in, the Boston Gazette and Country Journal, \nin its issue of August 30, 1756, announced: \n\n\" We hear that the organ that lately arrived from \nLondon by Captain Farr for King's Chapel in \nthis town will be opened on Thursday next in the \nafternoon, and that said organ (which contains \na variety of curious stops never yet heard of in \nthese parts) is esteemed by the most eminent \nmasters in England to be equal, if not superior, \nto any of the same size in Europe. There will \nbe a sermon suitable to the occasion. Prayer \nto begin at four o'clock.\" \n\nThree of the four royal governors of revo- \nlutionary times sat in this church, the governor's \npew being resplendent, canopied, and double the \nsize of the others. The church plate which Caner \ntook away was given by the King. \n\nNot far from King's Chapel was the famous \n\"liberty tree.\" On it were hung in effigy those \nwho were unpopular in the community. It \nblossomed mostly with Tories. There was a \ndeal of gorgeousness to be seen in and about this \nold church just before the Revolution. But after \n\n\nyo Old New England Churches \n\nthe war when King's Chapel lost its Episcopalian \nidentity to a large extent and the transition to \nUnitarianism came like a thief in the night — the \nchurch itself hardly knowing how — there was \nto be seen less of ruffled sleeve and powdered \nwig, of velvets and chariots and liveries. Since \n1767 it had been necessary for the British troops \nto camp with us to enforce the Tea Act, and for \nnine years Boston Common had been their ground. \nDuring that time King's Chapel had been the \nscene of a deal of red uniform and gold lace which \nseemed, when the crisis came, to have entered \ninto King's Chapel sentiments not one whit. \n\nThe Rev. Henry Wilder Foote said in a me- \nmorial sermon: \n\n\"The Rev. Mr. Fayerweather of Narragansett, \nrecords in his diary that he preached in King's \nChapel, Boston, before General Gage and his \nofficers, and a very numerous and polite assembly, \nfrom the text, 'Be kindly affectioned one toward \nanother with brotherly love.' \" \n\nThen Foote adds, \"The commentary was written \nat Lexington and Bunker Hill.\" A good many \nwho sat in King's Chapel doubtless ornamented \nin effigy the \"liberty tree\" over on Washington \nstreet. We know that on \" Gunpowder plot \" \nday one of the congregation, Charles Paxton, \n\n\nKing's Chapel, Boston, Mass. 71 \n\nwas hanged there in effigy \"between the figures \nof the devil and the Pope,\" and labelled, \"Every \nman's humble servant but no man's friend.\" \nAnother family, that of Dr. Sylvester Gardner, \nsat in pews Nos. 7 and 8, and Dr. Gardner was \nSenior Warden in King's Chapel for twenty years. \nHe was a rich and respected man but was forced \nto abandon his home in his seventieth year be- \ncause the young wife he had married had so far \ncompromised him with the royal party that he \ncould no longer remain. He went against his \nwill, and so greatly did he love his country that \nhe gave to it his valuable stock — \"medicines \nand drugs — for Washington's army to use.\" \nLater the state of Massachusetts rewarded the \ndoctor by giving him tickets in the state land \nlottery in consequence of which his heirs received \nsix thousand acres of land in Washington County, \nMaine. \n\nThere are many fascinating stories of loyalists \nwho fled voluntarily or who were compelled to \nleave at that time, which go to show how strong \nan influence memories, associations, and sentiments \nhad in their hearts. \n\nThere in pew No. 91 sat Agnes Surriage — Lady \nFrankland. The extraordinarily romantic story \n\n\n^2 Old New England Churches \n\nof this beautiful woman began, as all know, in \nMarblehead. Mr. Bynner tells the tale better \nthan anyone. From scrub girl to lady it was a \nfar cry, and both Agnes Surriage and Sir Harry \nsuffered bitterly enough to make them realise \nthe distance that lay between. The Lisbon \nearthquake was necessary to bring about the \nmarriage of these two, but when it occurred Frank- \nland determined there should be no uncertainty \nabout it, hence he was married twice. Fascinating \nSir Harry!— whether riding his horse up the broad \nstaircase of the Frankland mansion or displaying \nhis devoted, if erratic, love for Agnes! It was in \nKing's Chapel that she came to worship after \nFrankland's death. It would be a more artistic \nending if Agnes had not married in the end \na plain Mr. John Drew, a plain rich banker, \nof plain Chichester; but she still preserved the \nspirit of romance by dying promptly after ex- \nperiencing the plain Mr. Drew of Chichester; \nand to preserve the artistic values we may assume \nit killed her. \n\nWe might dismiss the subject of King's Chapel \nwith some more profound incident, but we can \nhardly find a more fascinating one than Agnes \nSurriage and her lover-husband, Frankland. \n\n\nOLD SOUTH CHURCH, BOSTON, MASS. \n\n\nCHAPTER IV \nOld South Church, Boston, Massachusetts \n\nFIRST and Second Church, Trinity and the Old \nSouth present in their histories each phase \nPuritan performance. They stand for the social, \neconomic, political history and a transition time. \nThe Old South has perhaps more of romantic \nassociation, and its history records more of vi- \ncissitude than does the history of either of the \nothers, while all are rich in fact and legend. \n\nEverett W. Burdett, who wrote a complete and \ncomprehensive history of the Old South, said that \nthe ever important theological question of baptism \nreally gave this church its birth. While the \nhistories of the three other churches deal more \nespecially with the human document. Old South \ntells a stirring and romantic story of events. \n\nSam Adams called for war from the pulpit of Old \nSouth, long before he got it. More \"sedition\" \nand revolution had its nesting and homing place \nthere than almost anywhere else. If the King's \ntroopers rollicked and rode within the church's \n\n75 \n\n\n7 6 Old New England Churches \n\nwalls making of the old house a riding school, so \nhad Hancock, Warren, and Quincy spoken in the \nsame precinct words that were to put those same \ntroopers out of commission. \n\nWe may not give much for Old South 's Chris- \ntianity, judging by its written history, but as an \nagitator it proved to be worth a kingdom. In \nChristianity it was weak and in nationality it was \nyet thoroughly English, even while it was pro- \ntesting against English control, and the pra3'ers \nuttered in that house, are almost as monumental \nin their egotism as are the words of the English \nnational anthem. For example, Burdett wrote \nquite seriously \"it was from this pulpit that, in \nearlier times went hence to Heaven that prayer \nwhich was answered by the dispersion and utter \nruin of a hostile fleet of France.\" Now that \nnarrative is perhaps a more complete exhibition \nof the non-Christian principle upon which the \nPuritan worked, than any other. This French \nfleet was on its way to Boston Harbour, and on a \nsunny cloudless day the Old South offered up \nprayers for the immediate destruction of its \nenemies, and none of that generation could have \nbeen made to believe that the frightful storm \nwhich ensued and dashed the French to pieces \n\n\nOld South Church, Boston, Mass. 77 \n\nupon the rocks, was not the work of God, in direct \nrecognition of Puritan superiority. While a \nChristian rehgion, however demonstrated — dem- \nonstrated by Protestant or Cathohc — is the most \n^otistical and least attractive of any religion, \nyet that practised by the Puritan was beyond \nquestion the ne plus ultra of all such. To-day, \nwhen Puritanism is so httle dominant we may \nmar\\^el without distraction, but when men had \ntheir \\ery existence by it it was detestable. It \nwas a rehgion fit only for war and the making of \nwar. It ser\\'ed its turn. \n\nUntil the existence of South Church, the Church \nand State were one and indissoluble, but when this \nchurch came into being equal rights and citizen- \nship untrammelled by sectarianism were bom \nwith it. This is one of the church's greatest \nglories. It marked a period of true progress in this \ncountr}'. Until that time this matter of disfranchise- \nment of the non-church member had been a hea\\w \nburden to many. Such were exempt from none of \nthe responsibilities of citizenship (they must have \ngone soldiering and have paid taxes with the best, \nor worst, of them) while they were deprived of \nmany privileges. At the time the Old South came \ninto existence, this matter of disfranchisment of \n\n\n78 Old New England Churches \n\nthe unregenerate was a burning question. The \nnew society saw clearly, despite its lapses from \nyirtxie — as when it laid at God's door the inhuman \ndestruction of their enemies. \n\nWhen this Boston church formulated its first \ngreat departure from ecclesiastical custom, it was \ndetermined that baptism alone should qualify a \nman to vote. Before then the vote had been \naccorded only to those who had become members \nof the church. When it was determined that the \nperfunctory performance and endurance of the rite \nof baptism should entitle an American to citizen- \nship, the New World was indeed upon its infant \n\nfeet. \n\nThis radical and fearless action by the Boston \nFirst Church resulted in a synod of all the preachers \nof the province. But they arrived at no conclusion \nexcept that disagreement and fight was best. \nThe immediate result was a separation from the \nFirst Church of a part of its society and congre- \ngation and the establishment of the Old South, \nwhich was to stand boldly i.or a new order of \nthings. This Old South was really the Third \nChurch of Boston, the Second already being in \nexistence. \n\nThe fight between the original society and its \n\n\nOld South Church, Boston, Mass. 79 \n\noffshoot was in no sense sham. The Bishop of \nLondon was informed that the bitterness ran so \nhigh that there \"was imprisoning of parties and \ngreat disturbances. ' ' This ecclesiastical departure \nwas practically the birth of the first political party \nin America. Even the state forces became divided \nagainst themselves; there were those who stood \nfor citizenship who also stood for the church, as \nwell as those who stood first and last for the in- \ndependence of the citizen, versus the church- \nmember. It was a situation to the Puritan's \nliking. It demanded resistance. When there \nwas no longer another ecclesiastical party to op- \npose, it was a constitutional necessity that the \nPuritan should divide and subdivide himself until \nhe created an antagonist worthy of his fighting \ncapacity. And this was not facile; the Puritan's \nfighting capacity has probably never been equalled \nby anyone unless that of his father — the English- \nman. They were equal until the Puritan out- \nclassed him. \n\nIt was not until after an election of 1690, that \nthe Old South, or Third Church, had a meeting \nhouse. When the time finally came when the new \norganisation thought to house itself. Governor \nBillingham, who was a member of the First Church, \n\n\n8o Old New England Churches \n\nmade the proceeding as difficult as possible by \ncalling together a council \"to consider the danger \nof 'a tumult; some persons attempting to set up an \nedifice for public worship, which was apprehended \nby authority to be detrimental to the public \npeace.'\" At last, with the cooperation of the \nselectmen, the new society put up its first house, \nwhich was of cedar, was two stories high, and had \na steeple. It stood upon \"the Green.\" A row \nof button wood trees surrounded it, but in 1775 \nthey -went the way of most things that could be \nburned and spared in the colony, and were used \nfor firewood to warm both the British and the \nPuritans. Geographically, at the time, the lo- \ncation of the cedar house was south, and thus it \ngot its name. But then it was not the ' ' Old South , ' ' \nsimply the South meeting house. The Old South \ncame into being only after a church was erected \nin Summer Street, in 181 7. Then, in order to \ndistinguish one from the other — both being south — \nthe original church became the Old South. \n\nThe new church was raised with the new \nmental impulse felt in the colony, and since \nit represented that new hope — the hope of toler- \nance and logical thinking — it was necessarily \nprosperous from the very first. Even its \n\n\nOld South Church, Boston, Mass. 8i \n\nbattles were useful in establishing its tone. It \nwas bom to success. The first preacher of the \nOld South was the Reverend Thomas Thatcher. \nHe came before the cedar house. After him was \nSamuel Willard, who contributed to the printer \nmore copy than any other preacher of the time, \nperhaps, unless it was Cotton Mather. One \ncannot say that either preacher contributed \nliterature, but undeniably, both Mather and Wil- \nlard wrote. The second preacher again made \nthe Old South luminant by reason of his vigorous \nattitude against witchcraft. He protested with \nall his Puritan might and did all that was possible \nto suppress the viciousness of the Mather regime. \n\nThe wives and daughters of those men who \nfounded the Old South were not admitted to \nchurch membership until five years after the \nfoundation of the society. \n\nThere is in this an extraordinary and satisfactory \nillustration of the complete materialism of the \nPuritan faith. Here was one church organisation \nrefusing to let its dissenters go, in order to prevent \nthose dissenters from uniting with another church \norganisation. Yet it was the professed belief \nthat unless a man was a church member he was \ndamned. The Puritans, from every evidence, lived, \n\n\n82 Old New England Churches \n\nfirst to spite England, then to spite each other, \nfinally themselves. The dissenters preferred to \nspite their God. It was a wonderful confusion \nof purpose and action and of understanding, taken \nall in all. They needed, with all this persistence \nand obstinacy, just one element to make them \nsupreme, and that the South furnished when the \ncrucial moment came. They needed Washington, \nwith his breeding which gives moral perspective, \nto be a governor upon their emotions. With the \ninfusion of southern civilisation came a new and \nmighty people, and the Old South Church began to \nprepare for that condition which was to come a \nhundred years ahead of its moment. \n\nSoon after the cedar house was built came the \nKing's Chapel missionaries, begging for ad- \nmittance. Burdett says, \" Episcopacy was sternly \nresisted by those sterner Christians, who, fleeing \nfrom and then establishing religious intolerance, \nfurnished one of the most striking though pious \nillustrations of the art of preaching one thing and \npractising another which the world has ever seen.\" \nStriking, surely, if not entirely pious! \n\nIt was necessary that the Old South society \nshould resist the efforts of the Episcopalians to \nestablish themselves with the help of the Puritan \n\n\nOld South Church, Boston, Mass. 83 \n\nchurch, because it had been proposed that the \nclergymen of the Church of England should have \nthe sole right to solemnise marriage. For the Pur- \nitans to have lent themselves to this enterprise of \nthe English church would have been a serious if \nnot a fatal mistake, but there is evidence that \nthe Puritans rejoiced in an opportunity to abuse \nthe intruding churchmen, rather than that they \nregretted the occasion. However, moderation \nwas not at that time the Puritan watchword. The \nhistory of that moment is told in the story of King's \nChapel. \n\nBrotherly love — never very stong in the Puritan \nchurch— had become so dilute a quantity by this \ntime, that both the First Church society and that \nof the Old South, refused absolutely, as late as \n1670, to mend their differences and to dwell to- \ngether in unity in the same town. The Old South \nwas inclined to shake hands and be friends, long \nbefore the First Church got over nursing its \nwounds. It was not until the intrusion of the \nKing's Chapel folks that in face of a common cause \nof hostility the two churches decided to dwell in \nharmony. It had become a matter of hanging \ntogether or hanging separately. \n\nIt was in the Old South Church cedar meeting \n\n\n84 Old New England Churches \n\nhouse where sat that perhaps most ruggedly \nmagnificent of Colonial characters, Judge Sewall, \nthen Chief Justice. He left behind him priceless \nmemoranda in the form of a diary kept over a \nperiod of many, many years, and of all MSS. of that \ntime, it alone is worthy of preservation as litera- \nture. It is downright human, to the point, and \nit is tender and it is graceful, if grace is to be found \nin simplicity and truth. It was this great man's \nson. Dr. Joseph Sewall, who was pastor of \nOld South before and after it moved into its \nbrick meeting house, and he was beloved of his \nworld. \n\nBefore we raze the old cedar house, let us witness \nthe baptism of Benjamin Franklin therein. \n\nThere is a legend borne upon the Old South \nChurch, as follows: \n\nOLD SOUTH \n\nChurch gathered, 1669 \nFirst House Built, 1670 \nThis House Erected, 1729 \nDesecrated by British Troops, 1775-6 \n\nNow when this house was \"desecrated b/ the \nBritish troops\" there was contributed the most \npicturesque happening in the church's history. \nThe most undeveloped imagination will indicate \nto one the condition of mind and nerves into which \n\n\nOld South Church, Boston, Mass. 85 \n\nthis threw the patriot Puritan. During this time \nof wreck and ruin, Old South's congregation turned \nto King's Chapel for help and found it. It wor- \nshipped within the precincts of the former foe, for \nmore than five years — until 1782, when Old South \nwas rid of British roisterers and was repaired. \n\nWhitefield preached here, and is said to have \nadded by his fervour at least a hundred con- \nverts. While he preached, the church became \ntoo crowded and a withdrawal was made to \nthe common. Thereafter it became necessary \nwholly to conduct his preachings outside, the crowd \nbeing always too great to find accommodation in \nany building. The Puritan responded to any \nemotional demand even as if a Latin race had given \nhim birth. He was almost in no sense represent- \natively English in anything but his obstinacy. \nIn that one quality he improved upon his forebears. \n\nOne month of Whitefield left its direct impress \nupon Boston for more than two years. \n\nDr. Joseph Sewall showed the same indomitable \nspirit that was revealed in his father, and after \nmany decades spent in the service of the Old \nSouth he died, and the following account which \ntells of his splendid robust persistence until the \nlast is given by Doctor Wisner : \n\n\n86 Old New England Churches \n\n\"He had for some time, on account of his in- \nfirmities, been carried into the pulpit from Sabbath \nto Sabbath; where, hke the beloved disciple of \nold in his latter days, he sat, and with paternal \napostolic affection and fidelity, instructed and \nexhorted his children in the faith. The evening \nhe had arrived to fourscore, he preached to his \npeople an appropriate sermon.\" \n\nHe had then been pastor of Old South for fifty \nyears, and he died upon its one hundredth anni- \nversary. \n\nDuring this time we have evidence of the in- \nstitution of slavery in Boston; and as is usual it \nis best illuminated by the press. A paper of that \ntime bears the following advertisement: \n\n\" To be sold by the printer of this paper, the very \nbest Negro Woman in town, who has had the \nsmall-pox and the measels; is as hearty as a horse, \nas brisk as a bird, and will work like a beaver. \nAug. 23d, 1742.\" \n\nTo any but the American mind, familiar with the \ncommercial interests of North and South, the atti- \ntude of Massachusetts toward the Southerner and \nhis problem, in the face of fact like this, would be \ninexplicable. \n\nHere in Old South were held those conven- \ntions called \"Town Meetings.\" Thus the meeting \nhouse had within its doors some of the most astute \n\n\n:4' \n\n\nPliolO);raph by llalliday, Boston \n\nOLD SOUTH CHURCH, BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS \n\nMhich rose from the ruin wrought by the British troops; the meeting house in which some of the finest \n\nlegislation in American history took place \n\n\nOld South Church, Boston, Mass. 87 \n\nmen and brilliant performances of political history. \nIn those only half conventional meetings of the \ncitizens, there passed some of the profoundest, \nwisest legislation in history. So inimical to Brit- \nish interests were these doings that an effort was \nmade to suppress them. The Town Meeting was \nthe backbone of colonial legislation, as a matter \nof fact. \n\nIt was from the Old South Church that the \nassembly of people marched to the Boston Mas- \nsacre, the harangues and arguments having taken \nplace there, earlier in the day. Samuel Adams \nhad addressed the company, and of the Lieutenant- \nGovernor he said afterwards : \"If fancy deceived \nme not, I observed his knees to tremble; I thought \nI saw his face grow pale, and I enjoyed the sight.\" \nThe demand had been for the withdrawal of the \nKing's troops. \n\nThe summary motion, \"Whether is it the firm \nresolution of this body that the tea shall not only \nbe sent back, but that no duty shah be paid there- \non,\" was put and affirmatively carried in the Old \nSouth Church. It was there decided under \nthe circumstances \"that in the sense of this body \nthat the use of tea is improper and pernicious.\" \nIt was after all of this courageous performance that \n\n\n88 Old New England Churches \n\nBurgoyne's regiment took the church for a riding \nschool, and it must be confessed that the action \nwas directly in keeping with a human weakness \nthat is common to all of us. Certainly if the \nBritish had cause to detest anything American \n— and doubtless they had — it must have been \nthe Old South Church. At that time the interior \nof the church was nearly torn out to make fires \nfor the soldiery, although, aside from the case \nof the Old South, there was something like system \nobserved in destroying property — the oldest houses \nbeing chosen first for destruction, and the de- \nstruction was generally necessary if the people \nwere to keep warm and survive the season. One \nvery shocking affair, however, is to be recorded, \nand implies vindictiveness pure and simple: \"The \nbeautiful carved pew of Deacon Hubbard, with \nthe silken hangings, was taken down and carried \nto 's house by an officer and made a hog- \nstye\" — which does seem to be a characteristic of \nEnglish rather than of Napoleonic warfare. \n\nIt were futile to try to present in anything like \ncompleteness the picturesque and rugged story of \nOld South Church, within so limited a space. It \nhas been well and completely done by others, in \nbooks devoted solely to its celebration. If \n\n\nOld South Church, Boston, Mass. 89 \n\nmeant no more to American history than did the \nother Boston churches here discussed, yet its his- \ntory is somewhat different in character. It be- \nlonged to the revolutionary time, more especially, \nand could not avoid a brilliant history, since men, \npolitics, and churches were then one and almost \ninseparable, \n\n\nCONCORD CHURCH, CONCORD, MASS. \n\n\nCHAPTER V \nConcord Church, Concord, Massachusetts \n\nIN INVESTIGATING the meeting house \nof New England one becomes curious \nto know if any other tree than the oak tree \nflourished in all that region. The monotony \nof the \"spreading oak\" as a seat of worship be- \ncomes painful. Certain it was that the Concord, \nMassachusetts, purchase was transacted under \nan oak, and that oak was named after one of the \nsettlers, \" Jethro's tree.\" Tradition has it that \nthe oak served later as a belfry. The name Con- \ncord doubtless stands for the united condition \nof the settlers. One historian promises to give \nus the origin of this name, but in handling larger \nmatters he forgets the detail and tells us no more \nabout it. \n\nConcord did not exist as a town until fifteen \nyears after the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, \nand it was five 3^ears behind Boston in settle- \nment. In that year, 1635, the General Court \n\ndeclared that \"no new building should be built \n\n93 \n\n\n94 Old New England Churches \n\nmore than half a mile from the meeting house \nin any near plantation\"; thus Concord was \ndoubtless the first of the settlements arbitrarily \nto build with the meeting house as its nucleus. \nA good many of Concord's settlers were rich \nmen. The Rev. Peter Buckley's fortune of ;^6,ooo \nsterling represented doubtless the maximum of \nindividual fortune. It was said of the entire \nsettlement of New England, that \"God sifted a \nwhole nation that he might send choice grain \nover into this wilderness.\" However that may \nbe, it is certain that if obstinacy is strength these \ncolonists were Herculean. \n\nOf the frightful difficulties of these settlers we \nhave an exceedingly good account in Johnson's \n\"Wonder-working Providence\" which was written \nabout 1650. From it we learn how land was \npurchased from the Indians : \n\n\"and with much difficulty travelling through \nunknowne woods, and through watery swamps they \ndiscovered the fitnesse of the place; sometimes \npassing through the thickets, where their hands \nwere forced to make way for their bodies' \npassage, and their feete clambering over the \ncrossed trees, which when they missed they sunk \ninto an uncertaine bottome in water, and waded \nup to their knees, tumbling sometimes higher \nand sometimes lower. Wearied with this toile, \n\n\nConcord Church, Concord, Mass. 95 \n\nthey at end of this meete with a scorching plaine, \nyet not such plaine but that the ragged bushes \nscratched their legs foully, even to wearing their \nstockings to the bare skin in two or three hours. \nIf they be not otherwise defended with boots or \nbuskings, their flesh will be tome. Some of them \nbeing forced to passe on without further pro- \nvision, have had the bloud trickle down at every \nstep. And further, in the summer the sun cast \nsuch a reflect mg heate upon the sweet feme, \nwhose scent is very strong, that some herewith \nhave beene very near fainting, although very \nable bodies to undergoe much travel. And \nit is not to be endured for one day but for many; \nand verily did not the Lord encourage their \nnatural parts (with hopes of a new and strange \ndiscovery expecting every houre to see some rare \nsight never seen before) they were never able to \nhold out and breake through.\" \n\nThere are many pages of this description — dif- \nficulties presented simply and with a forceful \nchoice of words, though sometimes the strange \nconstruction distracts us. We read that not \nonly men but \" their wives and little ones\" shared \nthese extraordinary perils. The same historian \nspeaks with wonderment of how they planted \ntheir Indian corn: \n\n\" in hills five foot asunder, and surely when the \nLord created this corn he had a special eye to \nsupply these His people's wants with it, for \nordinarily five or six grains would produce six \n\n\n96 Old New England Churches \n\nhundred. . . . The toil of a new plantation \nbeing like the labours of Hercules, never at an \nend, yet are none so barbarously bent . . . \nbut with a new plantation they ordinarily gather \ninto a new church fellowship, so that pastor and \npeople suffer the inconveniences together which \nis a great means to season the sore labours they \nundergoe.\" * \n\nOne of the early objects of church settlement \nin Concord was to Christianise the Indians. \nThey meant to prescribe no method, no form of \nworship, because it was expressly stated that \nthe Indians were \"to read God's word, to know \nGod aright, and to worship him in his own way.'''\\ \nWe have complete evidence here in Concord \nthat had those early settlers in some degree \nfulfilled their promise of fair dealing, they would \nhave escaped many of their most desperate ills — \nIndian dangers. The Indians were most amenable \nto Christian teaching, were not in a resentful mood, \ndiscussed religion more logically than super- \nstitiously, and regarded the bulwark principles \nof Christianity as a practical means to a practical \nend, namely to the better ordering of affairs \nbetween Indian nations as well as between Indians \n\n♦There is frequently an attempt at punctuation made in these quotations by the \ncompiler as a help to lucidity. So much liberty with the original text seems \nnecessary. \n\ntitalics are not used in the original. \n\n\nConcord Church, Concord, Mass. 97 \n\nand English, and between individuals. If we \naccept the utilitarian preachment that \" what- \never is, is right,\" we must regard the action of the \ncolonists with favour, and believe that the benefits \nof earth rightfully and economically belong to \nthose who can make them their own, A properly \nordered mathematical mind is bound to regard \nthe vexing and ancient Indian question with \na certain tranquillity bom of this view, but a \ncommon-or-garden sense of honour seems ever \nto repudiate the ragged apothegm that \" all is \nfair in love and war.\" At least we wish that an \ninjustice so antagonistic to sentiment, had not \nbeen so hatefully cloaked. We should be glad \nto think that the Indian lost his privileges, his \nright to what was his own, by the more heroic \nmachinery of flame and sword, instead of by a \nmean deception practised upon him by the half- \neducated. The rank savage is fairly outspoken \nand crude in his representations, even as a little \nchild is, while the educated man believes that \nhonesty is the best policy even if it be nothing \nbetter. It is the middle mind which resorts to \nthe method of our fathers in America. Intel- \nlectually they were hopelessly mediocre. Emo- \ntionally they performed miracles without know- \n\n\n9 8 Old New England Churches \n\ning it. It would be as absurd to censure them \nfor what they did not know as it would be to \nreprove the savage for doing what he was com- \npelled to do; but it is distressful either way you \ntake it. \n\nAt this time Concord was the seat of Christian \nlearning and counsel for the Indian, and while \nthis condition lasted, both the settlers and the \nIndians profited. With an Indian settlement \nunder the wing of the colony, the latter found it \nnecessary to undo that frightful evil of its own \npeople — drunkenness. The Puritans had made \nalcoholic fiends of the Indians, in their efforts \nto outwit them, and it had not made a great deal \nof difference so long as their victims were at a \ndistance; but now, with a settlement at its own \ndoor, Concord found it necessary to regulate it. \nHence there were orders drawn up by \" two faith- \nful witnesses . . . their own copy with their \nown hands to it\"; and this document provided \n\" that every one that shall abuse themselves with \nwine or strong liquor, shall pay, for every time \nso abusing themselves, 20s.\" It 'was not found \ndesirable to apply this regulation to the Christian \nsettler because in most cases it would very seri- \nously have interfered with the \" raring of the \n\n\nConcord Church, Concord, Mass. 99 \n\nmeeting hows.\" This \"raring\" was mostly done \non strong Hquors; the grace of God not being a \nsufficient leverage. \n\nIt was also determined in this document that \nthe Indians \" should pay their debts to the En- \nglish,\" but there was no reciprocity. If the \nIndians did not pay their debts to the English \nthere was some sort of penalty attached, while \nif the English did not pay their debts to the In- \ndians there seems to have been no penalty at- \ntached— ^until after the Indians got wise. \n\nConcord set the style in habit as well as in \nmorals for the savages. The manner in which \nthe Indian wore his hair seemed unsuitable to \nConcord citizens, and their document of rules \ndeclared that the Indian should \" wear his hair \ncomely as the English do, and whosoever shall \noffend herein shall pay 4s\"; also the Indians \nwere prohibited to play at their forraer games \nwithout the forfeiture of tenpence. There was \none concession: The Indian was prohibited from \ncoming into an Englishman's house without first \nknocking, and in turn the Englishman agreed \nto knock upon the Indian's door. In the midst \nof so much altruism on the part of the Indian \nand so little reciprocity on the part of the colonist \n\n\nloo Old New England Churches \n\nwe suspect that Concord's concession to polite- \nness was to save the citizen some embarrass- \nment; but if we know anything of the Indian \nwe know that the plan miscarried: nothing in- \nterrupts the Indian. \n\nWe learn that the Indian under these rules and \nregulations, of which there were twenty-nine \n(more than one of them quite unprintable), began \nat once to reform; that is to say, he began to be \nmore like the settlers. The picturesque side of \nConcord history lies in its Indian afUliation. \n\nThere were no records of the Concord church \npreserved for a hundred years after it was es- \ntablished. Most of these we have were carefully \ncollated by Shattuck from family records, ancient \nmanuscripts, legends, and similar sources. \n\nThe first time a group of men came together \nwith the purpose of establishing a church they \nmet in Cambridge, and the punctiliousness of \nthose invited to the seance interfered considerably \nwith its success. The governor and deputy- \ngovernor felt there was some informality in the \ninvitation and did not come; but a \"day of \nhumiliation\" was kept on April sixth, 1637, at \nCambridge, after which Mr. Bulkley was chosen \nteacher and Mr. Jones, pastor. Mr. Bulkley was \n\n\nConcord Church, Boston, Mass. loi \n\na rich man as fortunes went in those days. He \nwas of excellent birth and a man of letters. This \nConcord church was the first formally to catechise \nchildren. Considerable difficulty followed the \norganisation of the church, because there was no \nway of raising the seventy pounds per year voted \nto Mr. Bulkley as salary. \n\nIn Peter Bulkier, the first preacher, we have \nan exceptional example of a man ahead of his \ntime, and he mildly and most excusably repined \nthat he was \" shut up away from intellectual \nfellowship and temperamental interests.\" We \nhave the character of one preacher of this Con- \ncord church summed up on his tomb, and judging \nthereby, Concord indeed was fortunate in its preach- \ner-citizens. The man was the Rev. John Whiting, \nwho came perhaps more than one hundred years \nafter the organisation of the church. His epitaph \ntells us that he was \" a gentleman of singular \nhospitality, who never detracted from the char- \nacter of any man, and was a universal lover of \nmankind.\" There is a sincerity and beauty in \nthis epitaph, which makes it notable among the \nhundreds of grotesque, bathotic or inconsequent \ntombstone memoranda of that time. \n\nSomething of the spiritual situation in Concord \n\n\nI02 Old New England Churches \n\nmay be inferred from the following entry in White- \nfield's diary, apropos of his visit to Concord. He \nwrote that he preached to thousands; that \"the \nhearers were frequently melted down\"; and that \n\n\"about £^s was collected for the orphans. The \nminister of the town being, I believe, a true child \nof God, I chose to stay all night at his house that \nwe might rejoice together. The Lord was with \nus. The spirit of the Lord came upon me, and \nGod gave me to wrestle with him for my friends, \nespecially those that are with me. They felt \n\nhis power. Brother B S , the minister, \n\nbroke into floods of tears and we had reason to cry \nout it was good for us to be there.\" \n\nThere is something very distressing in the \noverwrought, unseemly moments that the present \ngeneration witnesses through such records as these ; \nbut it was that marvellous emotional capacity, \nordinarily so foreign to the English, which made \npossible the stupendous victory of the Revolution. \nIt was not true that \"God sifted a whole nation \nthat he might send choice grain over into this \nwilderness.\" The Puritan colonists certainly were \nnot men of probity, of benevolence, even of \nordinary kindliness of disposition, taken as a \npeople. It is not recorded save in individual \ncases, that the ordinary virtues demanded of an \nordinary civilisation, belonged to those men; \n\n\nConcord Church, Concord, Mass. 103 \n\nbut where they Hved was to be expected an emo- \ntional crisis. With the excuse of Enghsh oppres- \nsion and cruelty as extreme as the oppressive \ncruelties of their own theocracy, they lived up to \nthe deadly promise of their temperament, their \nstrange and fearful temperament ! They had un- \nlovely customs, hideous habits of thought ; but their \ntendency to emotional extremes made a revo- \nlution and compelled success. Self-preservation \nbeing the first law, the absurdity of their religious \ndiscipline had to give way, and one hundred and \nthirty years have made an impossible people \nmarvels of resource; have furnished more average \nintellectuality than we find among other people, \nand have destroyed so much of that original \nobstinacy and intolerance that a very prince \namong minds has declared \" un Americain aimahle, \nvaut deux Anglais charmantsf\" — a hundred years \nafter ! M arvellous ! \n\nThe town's name did not secure the church from \nconsiderable internal difficulty, and we find \n\"twenty- two articles of grievance\" chronicled. \nOne grievance dealt with the eminently theo- \nlogical point: did a man know whether or not \nhe was converted? Mr. Bliss had to defend him- \nself because he had asserted \" that every person \n\n\nI04 Old New England Churches \n\nthat was converted must know it; and afterward \ndenied it.\" A council could not consent to the first \nclause: one man might be converted and know it, \nand another man might be converted and know \nnothing about it. It was a touchy point ; but then \nConcord was exceedingly particular — its soldiers \nare said to have stopped in the wilderness to settle \nthe question, \" Whether they were in a covenant of \nworks or a covenant of grace.'' Mr. Bliss, who \nseemed inclined to think that the average Christ- \nian should be able to diagnose his own case, made \nhis peace with the church at last. He had the \npower of the revivalist big within him: \n\n\" He began in a low, moderate strain, and went \non for some time in the same manner; but toward \nthe close of his sermon he began to raise his voice \nand to use many extravagant gestures, and then \nbegan a considerable groaning amidst the auditors \nwhich as soon as he perceived he raised his voice \nstill higher and then the congregation were in \nthe utmost confusion. Some crying out in the \nmost doleful accents, some howling, some laughing \nand others singing, and Mr. Bliss still roaring to \nthem to come to Christ — they answering, 'I will, \nI will, I'm coming, I'm coming.' \" \n\nA negro camp meeting doubtless approaches the \nPuritan conditions nearer than any other modern \nexhibition. \n\n\nConcord Church, Concord, Mass. 105 \n\nAfter this the ecclesiastical history in Concord \nbecomes somewhat complicated. Families were \ndisrupted, society was disrupted, and ministers \nfiguratively torn limb from limb. But good \ncame out of this since in the end they united in \nsharing a more liberal view. \n\nIn leaving the church, and turning to tales of \ncustom, there are some interesting revelations \nconcerning burial. When the Rev. Mr. Bliss \ndied, his coffin was made by Ebenezer Hartshorn, \nand \"five hundred broad headed coffin nails; \nand five hundred small white tacks were put on \nthe cover.\" \"White ones used to be used, but \nlater they use them that are japanned black.\" \n\nThere are numberless anecdotes to be found \nof the Concord fighters and one of them seems \nfairly to epitomise the spirit of the whole fighting \ncolony of America. It was during the battle \nin which it fell to Concord to kill the first British \nsoldier of the Revolutionary War, that this hap- \npened : \n\n\" most of the provincials preceded them across \nthe bridge, though a few of them returned to \nButrick's with their dead. Among those who \nreturned was Luther Blanchard who went to \nMrs. Barrett's. Mrs. Barrett examined his wound \nand mournfully remarked, 'A little more and \n\n\nio6 Old New England Churches \n\nyou'd been killed.' 'Yes,' said Blanchard, 'and \na little more and 'twouldn't have touched me' \n— and immediately joined the pursuers.\" \n\nThis is a rattling good story of a rattling good \nchap, who probably couldn't have got killed had \nhe tried! \n\nIn 1743 began the preacher line of Emersons, \nand we seem incipiently to find in the Rev. William \nEmerson all those fascinating qualities of mind \nthat belonged later to Ralph Waldo Emerson. \nThere are those things in the history of his preach- \ning which suggest the main characteristic of the \nessayist's work: Emerson did not always think \ncorrectly perhaps, but he compelled his reader \nto think for himself; inspiring others to creative \nthought in a degree that is true of no other English \nwriter. \n\nIt was the great fortune of Concord Church to \nnumber an intellectual Emerson among its preach- \ners. \n\n\nQUINCY CHURCH, QUINCY, MASS. \n\n\nCHAPTER VI \n\nQuiNCY Church, Quincy, Massachusetts \n\n'T^HE YEAR 1636 was the local beginning, \nand Quincy was the hotbed of anti- \nnomianism. There is no record of the time \nwhen the first meeting house was built nor \nof the site on which it stood. The stone church \nhas no more positive record than has the first \nbuilding, but the stone church existed in 1666, \nfor a weather vane which adorned it before it \nwas pulled down, bore that date. This does not \nestablish the time when the house was built how- \never, for the meeting houses in those days acquired \ntheir furniture on the installment plan — ^belfry \nto-day, weathercock to-morow! One historian \ntells us that the old Plymouth road, laid out in \n1640, divided when it reached this church, going \ntwo rods north and two rods south. The old \nmeeting house had a bell, but the date of its \nacquisition is lost. We know a great many \nthings about the church merely by inference. \n\nThe town appropriated 25s for the salary of \n\n109 \n\n\nno Old New England Churches \n\nThomas Revells, whose duty it was to ring the \nbell and to sweep the meeting hpuse. The bell \nwas cracked and hardly worth ringing and because \nof this Mr. Daniel Lagaree hoped to escape serving \nas constable. The following significant record \nis to be found on the minutes of the town meeting. \nVoted: \n\n\" Whereas the meeting house bell, by reason of \na great crack in it, has become entirely unser- \nviceable, Mr. Daniel Lagaree offering to mend it \non condition of his being freed from being chosen \nconstable, as also he will run the hazard of losing \nhis labour and cost in case he cannot mend it; \nand further, if anything should happen whereby \nit should be melted or broken that he will return \nthe same weight of the same metal that he re- \nceives. It is voted that the bell be forthwith \ncommitted unto him upon the conditions above \nsaid and if said Lagaree shall mend it well and \nworkmanlike, whereby it shall again prove suf- \nficiently serviceable according to its dimensions, \nhe shall either be freed from being constable as \nhe desires or he shall be paid for his labour accord- \ning to its due value.\" \n\nMr. Lagaree was unable to fulfil his contract. \n\nThis Quincy meeting house is about the only \ninstance we have of a colonial church being built \nof stone. It had a turret and it had gutters and \nit seems to have been altogether modem in many \n\n\nQuincy Church, Quincy, Mass. m \n\nof its appointments; but like all other congre- \ngations of the time, Quincy' s shivered. It did \nnot even have foot-stoves; but \"they preached \ntheir brimstone theology with such fervour that \nit imparted sufficient caloric to keep them com- \nfortably warm in the coldest weather.\" Long \nprayers were the rule here, but it is doubtful \nif they matched those heard in Weymouth from \nthe Rev. Mr. Torrey, a record breaker in the mat- \nter of lengthy supplications. One prayer is said \nto have lasted two hours, but the hearers out- \nstayed him, and only wished that he might have \nprayed an hour longer. Probably the preacher \nwas so much exhausted that the congregation \nfelt safe in thus expressing itself. Notwithstand- \ning the honest stone structure the people of \nQuincy had built, they were as dissatisfied as \nthose who worshipped in wooden houses, and \nabout 1695 began to throw stones toward a new \nhouse. We may infer from the minutes of a \nlater meeting that no immediate action was taken: \n\"Mr. Caleb Hubbard and Mr. Benjamin Sevill \nWere instinicted to stop the leaks in the south \nside of the meeting house,\" This they did, and \nlet it go at that for thirty-five years; but at the \nend of that time the old house was in a desolate \n\n\n112 \n\n\nOld New England Churches \n\n\ncondition. The guttering had gone bad, and \ntwenty shillings were paid to the Precinct Clerk \nto clear the snow from the inside. The same \nofficial received the billet to rid the church \nof dogs. \n\nQuincy church must have been a very Con- \nvStantinople for dogs! The difficulty became so \ngreat everywhere that in one town they had a \nlaw which read: \"Every dog-that comes to the \nmeeting house either of the Lord's day or lecture \nday except it be their dogs that pay for a dog- \nwhipper, the owner of those dogs shall pay six- \npence for every time they come to the meeting \nthat doth not pay the dog-whipper. \" — Involved, \nbut covers the point ! Away back in Old England \nwe find Archbishop Laud in trouble over this \nsame matter of dogs. There is compensation \nin the knowledge that he was in trouble over \nanything. It became necessary for the Arch- \nbishop to direct, \" that the rail before the com- \nmunion table shall be made 'near one yard in height \nso thick with pillars that dogs may not get in.' \" \nDogs were necessary to the colonists because they \nhelped to scare the wolves off, and a man was \ncompelled by law to keep them. \n\nOne record tells us that the old stone church \n\n\nQuincy Church, Quincy, Mass. 113 \n\nwas finally sold in 1747 with the understanding \nthat it was to be converted into a poorhouse, or \nat least that a poorhouse was to be put up on the \nsame site; but another record declares that the \nsale was not completed until long after. \n\nIn the building of the third meeting house \nthere was much delay, hesitancy, and dissatis- \nfaction, and it was a good while before it got as \nfar as \"bread, cheese, sugar, rum, cider, and beer \nat the cost of the precinct,\" without which de- \ntails a meeting house could hardly have been \nerected. Finally the requisite motion was voted \non and carried, and with the help of this refresh- \nment the townspeople raised the meeting house. \nThe mixed drink was to be found in its fullest \nsplendour at that time, even if it did not include \nthe entire spectrum. To-day public opinion has \nplaced certain strictures upon it, and it is some- \nwhat more proper to be sober than drunk, but in \nthose days alcoholic incentive was an essential \nto all public effort, and it was as natural to be \ndrunk as sober. It is quite terrible to read of \nthe excesses of the Puritan fathers. In one town, \nat a meeting house raising, two barrels of rum \nwere secured by the selectmen, which they hoped \nwould be \"liquor sufficient for the spectators.\" \n\n\n114 Old New England Churches \n\nSamuel Mather's mixed - drink formula was as \nfamous in its day as Pope's magnificent poem \nto the Epicure is in ours. The former reads: \n\n\"To ptirest water sugar must be joined; \nWith these the grateful acid is combined; \nWhen now these three are mixed with care, \nThen added be of sugar a small share ; \n■ And that the drink we may quite perfect see, \n\nA top a musky nut must grated be.\" \n\nIn Boston, John Bayle was able to secure a liquor \nlicense only on condition that he set up his rumshop \nnear the meeting house of the- Second Church, and \nthere he offered an \"invitation to thirsty sinners' ' on \ntheir way to hear Increase Mather berate them. \n\nThe fortunes of the New England aristocrat were \nalmost without exception made in the slave \ntrade, the making of rum, or the trade in tobacco. \nThe latter it was considered a sin to smoke but \nthey sold it to the Dutch and used the New \nEngland meeting house in which to store it. The \nWest Indians and Virginians bought most of \ntheir slaves from the New England importers, \nand we have note of three thousand pounds of \ntobacco given as an equivalent for a negro boy \nor girl between the ages of seven and eleven. \nFour thousand pounds of Virginia tobacco was \nabout the figure for a boy or girl between the ages \n\n\nps* \n\n\nI— .iiu ijwwpjBgwwa— ijw«j!^i^e*'gw^>!i*<'»^^\"'»^*y^^\"' '■*^*'w*iii^u.jwi.«e(ifyii \n\nO \nW \n\ny \n> \n\nw \n\nCO \n\nO \n\n\no \no \n\nX. \n\no \n\nOS \n\nU \n\nW \nOS \nH \n\n2; \nw \nu \n\n\nCentre Church, New Haven, Conn. 303 \n\nfor which hitherto a drum had been beaten. Also \nhe was to ring the bell at nine o'clock every night. \nThus civilisation marched on in the New Haven \ncolony. \n\nDuring these years, New Haven not finding a \nway to establish its college on its own ground, had \nbeen contributing annually to Harvard what had \ncome to be known as \"college corn.\" While the \npeople of New Haven were doing this cheerfully \nenough Providence began to speak in a back- \nhanded manner for unborn Yale. President \nDuntser of Harvard, having fallen into dis- \ngrace on doctrinal matters, had been deposed \nand Harvard had been for a year without a presi- \ndent. The misfortunes of Harvard inspired the \nNew Haven colony to renewed action, and they \ndetermined to turn their contributions toward \nhome. The first to take practical action toward \nthe establishment of Yale College was the scholarly \nand gentle William Hooke, preacher in Centre \nChurch. If the titles of some of his sermons may \nbe called indicative, one may assume that he antici- \npated the modem love of the spectacular in litera- \nture. The title of one of his sermons was \" New \nEngland's Teares for Old England's Feares.\" \nWilliam Hooke had left England because of his \n\n\n304 Old New England Churches \n\nreligious convictions, but returned because of his \nfriendship for OHver Cromwell. Ultimately he \nbecame chaplain to Cromwell at Whitehall. It \nwas his love for his home in the New World that \ninduced him to leave to the church his \"home \nlot\" to be a standing maintenance either toward \na \"teaching officer, a schoolmaster, or the benefit \nof the poor in fellowship.\" It was upon this \n\"home lot\" that all the rectors and presidents \nof Yale College, from Cutler to the elder Dwight, \nlived. \n\nIt is hardly possible to discuss the New Haven \nchurch history without including much of Yale's \nearly history. The first pastor of Centre Church \nbom on American soil was Mr. Pierpont, and \nhis best claim to fame was the foundation of Yale. \nHe was one of the ten ministers whose contri- \nbutions from their own meagre libraries began \nthe college library, and it was through the per- \nsuasion of Mr. Pierpont that Elihu Yale by his \nsplendid gift made the college at that time pos- \nsible. As the founder of a great line James \nPierpont was a success. It was his daughter who \nmarried Jonathan Edwards, and he may reckon \namong his descendants the elder President Dwight, \nthe younger President Woolsey, the present \n\n\n3 \n\n\nh -a \n\nu \n\nW \n\n2; \n\nz \no \nu \n\n\nfL, \n\n\n> \n\n\nu \nw \n\nH \n\nW \n\nu \n\n\na \n\n\nO \n\n\nCentre Church, New Haven, Conn. 305 \n\nPresident D wight, Theodore Winthrop, and others \nwho have, almost in unbroken hne, contributed \nto the splendid fortunes of the New World. The \nReverend Mr. Pierpont had his romances, and it \nhas been said by a clever writer that he was \n\"early and often a widower.\" It was to Centre \nChurch that his young wife went on the first Sun- \nday after her marriage, dressed, according to cus- \ntom, in her wedding gown. This pretty vanity \ncost her her life; she caught cold and died three \nmonths later. The Reverend Mr. Pierpont mar- \nried in turn Sarah Haynes, granddaughter of the \nGovernor, and then a granddaughter of Rev. \nThomas Hooker, who was famous as pastor and \nleader of the colony. It was to this preacher \nthat the famous \" Pierpont Elms\" were brought \nas a gift from Hamden. In his time the clergy- \nman was to be maintained by free-will offerings. \nHis house was to be the most stately in the town. \nBut in 1697 \" after long debate, the town by their \nvote granted to pay Rev. James Pierpont annually, \nwhile he shall preach the Word of God to us, the sum \nof one himdred and twenty pounds in grain and \nflesh, also to supply him with firewood annually,\" \nwhile the Reverend Mr. Pierpont stipulated that \n\" the offering be brought to the house of God with- \n\n\n3o6 Old New England Churches \n\nout lameness or reflection on the ministry in the \nrespective years.\" The second meeting house \ngave place to a third building — still upon the \noriginal site — in 1757, and in time came Mr. \nWhittelsey, but wars and rumours of wars had be- \ngun to disturb the New World. It was into the \nthird meeting house that Wooster marched with \nhis company of men to receive ministerial bene- \ndiction before he and his soldiers should depart \nfor the war. Upon being told that Mr. Whittelsey \nwas absent the gallant Wooster marched his men \ninto the church, himself into the pulpit, and \npreached to his soldiers for their betterance and \nfor the strengthening of their courage, after which \nthey marched out across the Common and away \nto war. Neither battles nor sudden death, neither \ninternal dissensions nor the great Revolution \ninterrupted the service of Centre Church. \n\nIt was in Centre Church that the regicides, \nWhalley and Goffe, found support and their pro- \ntection was urged. It was John Davenport who \nbravely and tactfully preached at the right mo- \nment to \" entertain strangers, for thereby some have \nentertained angels unawares.\" The courageous \nman knew that the regicides were being sought \nand he thus counselled his congregation in their \n\n\nCentre Church, New Haven, Conn. 307 \n\nbehalf. Later he sheltered the men in his own \nhouse. The messengers of the king who were \nseeking Goffe and Whalley attended the Centre \nChurch but found no encouragement, because \nagain Davenport chose his text wisely and read: \n\"Hide the outcasts; betray not him that wan- \ndereth; let my outcasts dwell with you, Moab; \nbe thou a covert to them from the face of the \nspoiler.\" These happenings took place in the \nsecond meeting house to which there came later \none \"James Davids,\" a mystery to the town, his \ndignity and culture making friends for him, but \never exciting curiosity. After his death he was \nfound to have been John Dixwell, one of the three \nregicides of King Charles. \n\nIn time this house was outgrown by its con- \ngregation and more room, more of modernity and \nbeauty were demanded. Then in 18 14 came the \nfourth house on the same site, ultimately to be \nmade larger. The old churchyard, with its ancient \ndead had to give place to the convenience of the \nliving, and the process of removal began. \n\nThere rested dead whose names are historic \nand who had had their places in the splendid \ndevelopment of a nation. Room was needed but \nnot all were to go. The new building was \n\n\n3o8 Old New England Churches \n\nextended over one hundred and thirty-nine \ngraves. \n\nFhckering gas hghts emphasise the weirdness \nof surrounding low rafters that serve for the crypt's \nroof and for the church's flooring. The stones are \nplaced without relation to compass or symmetry. \nThey are blackened and crumbled, but bear \nsplendid testimony to the probity and worth of \nthose whose graves they mark. \n\nBenedict Arnold's first wife is buried there, \nand the former time is linked with to-day when \none reads the name of Hayes — President Ruther- \nford B. Hayes's grandfather and grandmother. \n\nThe Trowbridge family rests there — twenty- \nfive strong. It is one of this family, Mr. Thomas \nR. Trowbridge whose activity has preserved in \nits present excellent state, this little gathering \nof the dead. It is he who has promoted the level- \nling of the ground, the cementing over of the \ngraves which now form the flooring of the crypt. \nThis effort has preserved a place unique in this \ncountry and of interest to all who yield to the \nNew England past its proper sentimental value. \nOne Trowbridge epitaph leaves naught unsaid of \na man's usefulness as a citizen and a man. It \ntells us that Captain Joseph Trowbridge was \"A \n\n\nCentre Church, New Haven, Conn. 309 \n\nman diligent in business, strictly honest in his \ndealings, skilful and prudent in his affairs, gen- \nerous in his donations to the public and to the \nhouse of God.\" \n\nNot far away lie the bones of Mary Edwards, \n\"the amiable and excellent consort of Jonathan \nEdwards.\" Drowned accidentally while driving. \n\nThe oldest stone marks the resting place of \nSarah Trowbridge. Its date is 1687. The last \nburial was in 181 2 and was that of the wife of \nChauncey Whittelsey. \"Margaret, first wife of \nBenedict Arnold, died June 19, 1775, in the \nthirty-first year of her age.\" Here too rests \nJared IngersoU of \"Stamp Act\" fame— \"A man \nof uncommon genius whch was cultivated by a \nliberal education at Yale College, and improved \nby the study of mankind and laws, policy and \ngovernment.\" Mrs. Katharine Dana's virtues \nare chronicled thus: \"Frugal and hospitable, \ncompassionate and liberal.\" Mrs. Rebekah Hayes \nwas the \"Amiable and virtuous consort of Cap- \ntain Ezekial Hayes\" and the great, great grand- \nmother of President Hayes. \n\nPerhaps nothing so demonstrates a New World \ncharacteristic as do the unmarked graves of a \nnow famous family. Before the destruction of \n\n\n3IO Old New England Churches \n\nthe old burial ground the Wyllyses had found \nplaces in the centre of it, but their graves were \nunmarked for the very good and obvious reason, \ngiven in the terse words of a member of the family, \n\" if Connecticut couldn't remember the Wyllyses \ntheir memory might rot.\" The first woman \nburied in the ground without was Martha Town- \nsend. In death the members of the colony seemed \nto seek proximity to each other even as in life they \nhad pressed together for mutual protection and \nhelp. The record gives sixteen bodies to sixteen \nsquare feet. \n\nIn 1784 much that was unseemly for so fair a \nspot was removed, in time the Green being cleared \nof pound and jail and almshouse and the stocks. \nWhen those reminders of misfortune were gone \nthe beautiful Common became sacred to the three \nchurches now occupying its middle space. \n\nIt was Mrs. Tuttle who first gave the name \" City \nof Elms\" to New Haven, and her poetic thought \nhad its inception in the gift of elm trees from \nWilliam Cooper to James Pierpont, the preacher. \nThen, too, there was the \"Franklin Elm,\" ac- \nquired from Jerry Allen by Thaddeus Beecher \nfor a \"pint of rum and some trifles.\" It was \nplanted on the day of Benjamin Franklin's death. \n\n\nCENTRE CHURCH, NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT \nThe Memorial which allegorically tells the story of the church's beginning \n\n\nCentre Church, New Haven, Conn. 311 \n\nFew places are so rich in tradition as this place \nof the \"Green.\" It was there that Benedict \nArnold assembled the Governor's Guard to lead \nthem to Cambridge to swell the patriot army. \nHere Lafayette reviewed troops and Washington \npassed to church at Trinity. To tell half its \nlegends would require much space. Those names \nfirmest linked with New Plaven history are found \nfor the most part chronicled upon the church \nwalls. They are Davenport, Eaton, Hooke, Pier- \npont, Hayes, Street, Whittelsey, Taylor, Bacon, \nStewart, Dana, Trowbridge, Hillhouse, Austin, \nand many more. \n\nThe symbolic window above the pulpit tells in \ngorgeous colour the whole splendid story — Daven- \nport preaching beneath the oak, the seven men \nwho planned the future of the church symbolised \nby the seven-branched candlestick, the armed \nmen, listening women, and awe-smitten children; \nthe story of the wilderness, the bravery, the faith \nand hope that were to waken a new day and found \na new race. \n\n\nUNITED CHURCH, NEW HAVEN, \n\nCONN. \n\n\nCHAPTER XIX \nUnited Church, New Haven, Connecticut \n\nTHE history of the United Church is man \nrather than meeting house history; but \nthe man is one so well known in letters and public \nlife that it were impertinent to attempt his auto- \nbiography with less than completeness, and com- \npleteness cannot be hoped for in the limited \nspace given to this meeting house story. \n\nDoctor Theodore T. Hunger, pastor emeritus, \nhas largely made the history of the United Church, \nfor many years. He has instituted changes and \ninspired a mostly united people with that faith, \nhope, and charity which has for decades been the \nkey-note of his published work and private teaching. \n\nThe Church was planted in this most fanatically \n\nreligious colony more than one hundred and sixty \n\nyears ago. The foot-stove is well within the \n\nhistory of the present building — which has the \n\ndistinction of being one of the last in New Haven \n\nto be laid in that brick pattern known as Flemish \n\nbond. It is a part of the story of the present house \n\nthat its early preachers have preached muffled in \n\n315 \n\n\n3i6 Old New England Churches \n\novercoat and furred gloves, but there is no \nstory of frozen zeal to record. Whether the \nfashions dictated the manner of pulpit may be \nproblematical, but it is certain that if it had \nnot been greatly elevated as it was, the flaring \nbonnets of that first generation in the history \nof the present house, would have sent the \npreacher into total eclipse. One of the former \nbuildings was known as the Blue Meeting-house, \nand when the new one was put up, a piece of the \nstair railing of that blue house was en evidence. \nSince that time it has formed a part of the attic \nstaircase of a house on College Street. It still \nretains its original colour, and should be incor- \nporated after some fashion in the present build- \nings, and restored as often as might be necessary \nto preserve its original blue, since it would one \nday fix the physical characteristics of an early \nPuritan meeting house with more of accuracy \nthan legend can do. None of such details is un- \nimportant when history comes to be made. There \nis tradition for it that Fair Haven folk came to \nworship barefooted, as far as the green, and there \nthey sat down and put on their shoes and stockings. \nThis was less than a hundred years ago, and in the \nhistory of the Blue Meeting-house. \n\n\nJ'lwtugroph by llie Finlcy Slmiio, A'oi' Haven \nUXTTED CHITICH. NEW HA VEX, COyXECTTCUT \n\nWhich stands as the symbol of Independent Citizenship, and beinR. with the Old South of Boston, the first churches to \n\nseparate state and ecclesiastical interests \n\n\nUnited Church, New Haven, Conn. 317 \n\nLike the foundations of the Old South Church \nsociety in Boston, the United Church came out of \nthe separation of ecclesiastical interests from those \nof the state, and Doctor Hunger has presented this \nmatter best of all in his historical discourse on \nthe United Church. \"We must remember, as we \nrecall the history of the First Church during the \nperiod when this church was extricating itself \nfrom it and for some years after, that it is the \nhistory of a state as well as of a church, and that \nsentiments and actions which seem to spring out \nof the church may properly be referred to the \nstate; that is, they may be regarded political \nrather than religious. The distinction is real, and \nshould be made in behalf of men who were moved \nby the fervours of both politics and religion. On \nthe other hand, we do not regard the founders \nof this church with sufficient honour unless we \nkeep in mind that their separation from the First \nChurch was a political as well as a religious move- \nment. In fact the political features strike deeper \nand are more important than the religious. The \nreligious changes would have soon come on, even \nas they did, but the political changes were radical \nanb fundamental.\" \n\nSo one and indivisible were Church and State \n\n\n3i8 Old New England Churches \n\ninterests in this colony, that it was a question \nwhether business transactions could be considered \nlegal unless conducted by church members. A \nprotest was made against this one hundred years \nbefore the resistance took actual form in the \nfounding of the United Church. \n\nDoctor Hunger has called attention to the in- \nevitable weakness that must have followed this \nsituation, since \"at last the church became \nsimply a pathway to civil rights — a means and \nnot an end. . . . The church hindered the \ngrowth of those seeds of freedom and popular gov- \nernment which had been brought from England, \nand the state choked the currents of spiritual life \nin the church.\" \n\nIt was of an early understanding of this situation \nthat the United Church was born. Doctor Hun- \nger regards the time of \"Great Awakening\" \nand Whitefield's emotional excesses in the light \nof a spiritual performance, much needed, at the \nsame time giving that moment its proper value \nas one more superficial than profound, and says, \n\"whatever its excesses, it marked the condition \nout of which it came, and of which it was the \nreaction,\" and he epigrammatically adds, \"action \nand reaction are equal, and interpret each other.\" \n\n\nUnited Church, New Haven, Conn. 319 \n\nBut he gives that hotir a spiritual rather than a \nsimply emotional value — in which he may or may \nnot be right; probably not. It would seem to \nmany of us an instance of universal hysteria — \nculminating in a war which cleared the air. \n\nThe United Church did not find its people free \nto separate themselves from the parent First \nChurch by any means. The divorcement was a \nlong and difficult process, during which both socie- \nties found themselves wickedly embroiled and full of \ntrouble. But the new church stood for freedom of \ncitizenship and conscience as opposed to ecclesias- \ntical slavery, and the success of its cause was for- \ngone. As was usual in the history of most of the dis- \nsenting offshoots of original colonial churches, the \nUnited Church wished to maintain the right to be \nconsidered the original organisation, reestablished, \ninstead of a new organisation; and not unnatur- \nally, the parent organisation objected to second \nplace; thus, after separation was determined \non, there was plenty of room for controversy which \nfrom first to last was the breath of life to the \nPuritan Church, and its real reason for existing. \nNo one seemed to remember that the people were \norganised on a basis of religious argument where- \nin it was declared that the first should be last, and \n\n\n320 Old New England Churches \n\nno one accepted a back seat with grace, much less \nwith eagerness. But consistency nor self efface- \nment were basic characteristics of those Puritan \nfolk. They were the most egotistical and pre- \nsumptuous people, preaching humility and sub- \nmission. \n\nThe United Church began with the association \nof forty- three persons who met together for fast- \ning and prayer. Although the new church had \ngained its freedom from the parent organisation, \nit continued to pay taxes into the treasury of the \noriginal church for seventeen years, which \ndid not tend to lessen the antagonism. The \nlot upon which the first building of the United \nChurch was placed, measured \"about\" six rods \non Church Street, and Doctor Hunger calls atten- \ntion to it that ' ' in those days they measured their \ndoctrines more accurately than their land.\" \n\nAs usual it was continuous persecution which \nfinally established the United Church, and pres- \nently we find it with a settled ministry and a \n\"blue house,\" which caused the First Church to \nproclaim it a public nuisance and to take action \nagainst it as such. Possibly, there was some \naesthetic cause for war; at any rate the factions \ngrew so hot that a watch was set upon the new \n\n\nUnited Church, New Haven, Conn. 321 \n\nblue building to prevent those of the First Church \ncutting the timbers and jeopardising the lives of \nthe congregation. Soon after this Whitefield came \na second time, and, finding no place for him in \nthe First Church pulpit, preached from a plat- \nform placed before the house of James Pierpont. \nIn 1748 the United Church made new friends, \nand a new society was formed by \"voluntary \ncompact,\" in which there was but one woman — \nthe women had dominated by numbers in the first \nsociety while in the present society there is no \nwoman. There is little or no history of the first \nadministration which covered a period of only \ntwo years, but with the coming of the second \npreacher, the Rev. Samuel Bird, an effort was made \nby the United Church to heal the breach between \nitself and the First Church. Samuel Bird had \nconsented to take the pulpit only on condition \nthat strife should cease. But at that time the \nFirst Church would have none of reconciliation \nand the trouble continued, although Samuel \nBird was settled in the pulpit. Probably the \nFirst Church suspected that the overture was \nmade because the United Church's congregation \nmost of all desired the services of the preacher \nwho demanded peace before ordination. \n\n\n332 Old New England Churches \n\nAlmost at once, upon his coming, the diffi- \nculties changed complexion, becoming politi- \ncal rather than ecclesiastical. The United \nChurch, having paid taxes for many years to the \nFirst Church, had no mind to abandon its rights \nin the property of the First organisation, while the \nFirst Church was now quite ready to shake off \nits former supporters. The settlement of this \ncontroversy was as full of humour as was any part \nof the ecclesiastical war. The First Church re- \ntained its building, while the bell and such prop- \nerty as belonged to the society before its divi- \nsion were to be held by the two societies. In that \nperiod of its history while the United Church was \nthe Fair Haven Church, Jonathan Edwards, \nson of Jonathan Edwards and Sarah Pierpont, \ncame to preach and his perhaps is the only his- \ntoric name associated with the United Church \npulpit. \n\nAfter a time that ruling passion of the Puritan \nwherever he may be found — dissension and dis- \ncord— showed even in the new society, and a part \nof the people who had weathered so much together, \ndecided to \"go off and worship by themselves,\" \nand so retired to the State House for a time. \nAfter that came the customary trouble over the \n\n\nUnited Church, New Haven, Conn. 323 \n\n\"half way covenant,\" and the new society lacked \nnone of those encouraging difficulties of irritation \nand discord upon which the faith was certain to \nthrive. But the enduring moment in the early \nhistory of the pulpit belonged to Edwards, \nwhose eloquence was so passionately used \nagainst the institution of slavery. Doctor \nHunger wrote: \"It is my guess that Washing- \nton, who attended service at the Episcopal Church \nin the morning, passed by the larger and first \nFair Haven church on the Green and went to \nthe Blue Meeting house in order to hear Doctor \nEdwards whose reputation was general, and that \nperchance the Father of his country was better \nsatisfied than if he had heard a disquisition on \nman's natural ability to repent.\" Doctor Hun- \nger was very likely a good guesser. \n\nWhile the preachers of the United Church were \nmostly men of conscience, the record is not quite \nclear of dishonest doings. The Rev. Doctor \nDutton concealed slaves in his own bam, helping \nto rob men of their property, misusing the law thus, \nand aiding numbers of negroes thus to pass into \nCanada. Probably the men who did these things \nmade these deeds accord in some fashion with \ntheir ideas of honesty, but only the complicated \n\n\n324 Old New England Churches \n\nPuritan mind could have done it. They were not \ngreatly concerned with the rights of property, \nunless the property was theirs. \n\nOut of chaos of thought and feeling grew a \nfixed and progressive organisation whose name \nto-day indicates fraternity and permanency. \n\n\nFIRST CHURCH, HARTFORD, CONN. \n\n\nCHAPTER XX \nFirst Church, Hartford, Connecticut \n\nBRAINTREE in Essex County, England, was \nthe original home of the Hartford church. \nThe emigrants of 1632 found a place to settle in \nNewtown, now Cambridge, Massachusetts. The \nmeeting house which the people built had \" a bell \nupon it.\" Four years later the congregation arose \nand went elsewhere, carrying with it the pastor \nand teacher. The most interesting thing about \nthe removal was the difficulty with which it was \naccomplished. The people had to go through the \ntrackless forest driving one hundred and sixty \ncattle before them, living upon milk, and avoid- \ning wild beasts and savages as best they could. \n\nThe first Hartford meeting house was built \n\" a little north of where the Universalist meeting \nhouse now stands.\" One historian tells us that \nit was thatched, but it was more likely to be tiled \nor shingled as in that vicinity there was much of \nsuch material used in preference to thatch. \n\nIn 1649 this first building became unfit for \n\npublic worship, and it was given to Mr. Hooker, \n\n327 \n\n\n328 Old New England Churches \n\nwho had preached to the congregation in England, \nhad been their pastor at Newtown, and had mi- \ngrated with them to Hartford. In 1648 the \nsecond house of this church was built. Mr. \nHooker ministered there for fourteen years, and \nmust have had exceedingly gentle methods for \nduring that time we read of only one person being \nadmonished and but one excommunicated. Since \nnearly all New England lived to exercise its con- \nscience vicariously, to admonish everyone, every- \nwhere, at every time, we regard a peaceful eccle- \nsiastical administration as bizarre, and surely \nnot conservative since severity established the \nrule. \n\nThe Rev. Thomas Hooker revealed himself very \ncompletely when he came to die. \"Last words\" \nare apt to be given more importance than they \ndeserve, but Hooker's \"last words\" are worth \nremembering : \n\n\" You are going to receive the reward of your \nlabours,\" said a friend to him comfortingly. \n\n\"Brother, I am going to receive mercy,'' was \nthe gentle Hooker's response. \n\nIt was he who declared, \"The foundation of \nauthority is laid firstly by the free consent of the \npeople\"; and of this Dr. Bacon wrote, \n\n\nFirst Church, Hartford, Conn. 329 \n\n\"That sermon by Thomas Hooker from the \npulpit of the First Church of Hartford is the earhest \nknown suggestion of a fundamental law, enacted \nnot by any royal charter, or by concession from \nany previously existing government, but by the \npeople themselves — a primary and supreme law \nby which the government is constituted and not \nonly provides for the free choice of magistrates by \nthe people but also sets the bounds and limita- \ntions of power to which each magistrate is called.\" \n\nIt was but eight months later that the Funda- \nmental Laws were \" sentenced, ordered, and de- \ncreed,\" and we feel that Thomas Hooker should \nshare the honours with Roger Ludlow. \n\nAn historian tells us that Hooker's \"writings \nwere valued with those of the very first class of \nNew England Divines,\" but this by no means \nimplies that the}^ were valuable either as literature \nor philosophy. Though there were among these \npreachers more than one hundred university grad- \nuates, some of them classmates of Jeremy Taylor, \nGeorge Herbert, and Milton, it does not follow \nthat a Shakespeare or a Sophocles was developed \nin the group. That university class turned out \nMiltons and Puritans. \n\nWe have Cotton Mather's \"Magnalia\" as the \nstandard of literature produced by these men, \nand that leaves everything in literature to be \n\n\n33© Old New England Churches \n\ndesired. As revelations of much restricted minds \nmade in a directly personal fashion, these pen- \nperformances have their value, but if one wants \nhelpful information, given with anything ap- \nproaching literary charm, he turns to the delight- \nfully frank and simply expressed revelations to be \nfound in the diaries of such men as Benjamin \nLynde and the sturdy Sewall. These two had \ntoo much virility to lose their identity in the \ndominant superstitions of the times ; yet they had \nenough temperament to be played upon very \npositively by Puritan purpose. \n\nThe Hartford church records were early de- \nstroyed, so that we are left without certain official \ndata; but we know that in 1670 there was a \ndivision which led to a new organisation. People \nbegan to be admitted to the church under the \n\"Half Way Covenant,\" and this caused much \ndistraction. \n\nThe third house was dedicated December 30, 1739, \nand. it stood very nearly on the site of the present \none, dedicated in 1807. The low state of Chris- \ntianity was deplored soon after the new form of \ncovenant was adopted. The \"Half Way Covenant \" \nseemed to result in half way Christianity, and little \nvitality remained in the congregation. \n\n\nFirst Church, Hartford, Conn. 331 \n\nThe church did give one contributor to literature \nin its pastor, Dr. Strong, but he was modem in \nthe history of New England divines, and by the \nend of the eighteenth century this literature of \nthe New England church was in very good com- \npany. Men had by that time developed a sense \nof humour which began to create in them a sense \nof proportion hitherto painfully lacking. \n\nDuring his ministry Dr. Strong ran a distillery \nas a side issue, but his enterprise terminated un- \nfortunately in 1798, when judgments were granted \nagainst his property \"and in default of that, \nagainst the bodies of Messrs. Strong and Smith on \nthe judgment against them.\" The preacher went \nto New York as a matter of prudence ; but presently \nfinding himself in the hands of the sheriff, he said \nhe would go with him if compelled, \" but if he went \nhe would never enter the pulpit again\"; where- \nupon the sheriff compromised the matter in some \nfashion and released the preacher. \n\nThe ruin of the Doctor's spirituous affairs \nseems to have been the renaissance of the spiritual \ncondition in his church, and a tremendous revival \nfollowed. When he had to forsake his rum- \nmaking Mr. Strong concentrated all his forces \nupon a volume of sermons which are said to have \n\n\n332 Old New England Churches \n\nbeen \" eminently fitted to awaken and promote \na quickening of ecclesiastical piety.\" Later he \ntried to reconcile Eternal Misery with Infinite \nBenevolence, and it is said of his discourses that \n\" Unlike a great proportion of the sermons at that \ntime, they are readable and might be effectively \npreached to-day.\" The revival conducted by \nDr. Strong was notable. \n\nCertain commonplace details marked at that \ntime extraordinary periods in the church history. \nJust before Dr. Strong's death stoves were intro- \nduced into the meeting house and the pulpit was \nlowered. It has been lowered three times since, \nso that originally it must have been a remarkable \nheight. The protracted meeting had its Con- \nnecticut birth here. Among other meeting house \ngossip it is chronicled that Thomas Woodford \nwas employed to advertise lost things. The \ntown order was framed thus: \n\n\"If any person hath lost anything that he de- \nsireth shall be cried in the public meeting, he shall \npay for crying of it twopence to Thomas Wood- \nford to be paid before it be cried; and the crier \nshall have a book of the things that he crieth.\" \n\nThe authority for this detail is the Rev. Samuel \nPeters, who has also stated that which Hartford \n\n\nFirst Church, Hartford, Conn. :^^2> \n\nwould probably like to repudiate: the first witch \nin America was condemned and executed at Hart- \nford through the efforts of that church. \n\nDeacon John Edwards, uncle of the famous \nJonathan Edwards, preserved with care the small- \nest recorded details, and from that source we \nlearn that ten nails in the old meeting house build- \ning were sold for fourpence half-penny. \n\nSlave labour was employed in the construction \nof the third house, and the lime used in building \nwas procured from shells that were brought \nfrom the seacoast for that purpose. To raise the \nspire-pole of the building it took a deal of spirit \nnot only of the temperamental sort but of the kind \nto be had from two gallons of cider, two quarts \nand a pint of rum \" to treat the hands when histed \nup ye Spire Pole into ye Tower.\" Again there \nwas consumed eighteen quarts of rum \"when \nrayzed the Spire.\" This was only a part of the \nrefreshment demanded for one end of the work. \nIt gives us pause when we try to calculate what \nit must have required in the way of liquid measure \nto set up the entire structure. \n\nThere were \" waits in ye windows \" of this house, \nwhich were procured by John Beauchamp from Bos- \nton, which tells us that such machinery is not entire- \n\n\n334 O^d New England Churches \n\nly modem; but with all its conveniences, its hour \nglass, its velvet cushions, its gorgeous weather- \ncock, its fine window hangings, the congregation \nsat without a stove until late in Dr. Strong's time. \nThe contribution box was not then, as we now \nfrequently find it, an amusing little corn-popper \nshoved before the people, but a substantial box \nplaced in the Deacon's seat, and the people walked \nto it. The magistrates went first, then the Elders, \nand the rest of the congregation that had anything \nto give brought up the rear. As the contributions \nwere as likely to be pumpkins as coins, these pro- \ncessions were not without picturesqueness. \n\nThere was much dissatisfaction in regard to \nestablishing precedence in seating the congrega- \ntion. In Hartford five picked men laboured \nlong over the problem, and after seating the people \naccording to the committee's conscience and judg- \nment, we find Joseph Gilbert, Jr., \"setting forth \nsundry grievances respecting the seating of our \nmeeting house, and more especially the committy \nseating him.\" Six others were chosen to do the \nwork, but in trying to please everybody they \npleased nobody and in their turn gave it up. A \ncommittee of three untried men followed but in \nthe end it was decreed: \n\n\nFirst Church, Hartford, Conn. 335 \n\n\"That the Inhabitants of the society for the \nfuture, and until otherwise ordered, have Liberty \nto accommodate themselves with seats in the \nMeeting house at their discretion, any measure \nthis society hath heretofore taken for seating the \nhouse notwithstanding.\" \n\nUntil 1767 there was much objection to Dr. \nFranklin's \"lightening rods\" but in that year the \ncongregation probably felt that it had received \na special revelation on the subject, for Hartford \nchurch was struck by lightning which shattered \nits steeple, killed one young woman, and wounded \nseveral others. \"In the midst of this excitement \nthey were desired every one of them to return to \ntheir seats, and join in singing a song to the praise \nof Almighty God.\" If we doubt their discretion \nwe cannot but admire their obstinacy. It \nseems that God could not have displeased \nthese Puritans unless He had chosen to \ntreat them civilly. They finally accepted the \nelectrical exhibition as a gentle indication that \ntheir notion about \"lightening rods\" was all \nwrong. A good many had objected to the \"erec- \ntion of sharp points\" — even as the Chinese pro- \ntested against railroads, because their super- \nstitions made parallel lines a cause of apprehen- \nsion; though the Puritans would consider the \n\n\n2^6 Old New England Churches \n\nChinese in the direct line of the missionary. \nThose who objected to \"sharp points\" ''wished \nthat it might not be a means of drawing down \nDivine displeasure\" instead of safety. As a \nclever historian puts it : \n\n\"With the needed appropriation for repairs \nto the steeple was included the amount required \nto procure the much despised protectors; and \n1767, I think, may fairly be entered on our annals \nas the year when the lightning rod man discovered \nHartford.\" \n\nFoot-stoves were finally put out of the meeting \nhouse in 1830, stoves having arrived fifteen years \nbefore. After that any foot-stoves found in the \nhouse after service were removed to the por- \ntico by order of the committee. \n\nOne of our greatest scientists belonged to this \nchurch, Horace Wells, who gave to the world the \nprinciple of anaesthesia in surgery. Out of this \nchurch also came two men who \" made the dumb \nto speak, the deaf to hear,\" inventing a system \nof \" deaf and dumb \" language. \n\nIf Connecticut contributed the meeting houses, \nits meeting houses contributed the men who in- \nvented certain equipments of war, revolving arms, \nsubmarine torpedoes, breech-loading guns, and \n\n\nFirst Church, Hartford, Conn. 337 \n\nother mechanisms which make for peace. Who \nnow goes to war without Connecticut? \n\nSome of the most extraordinary movements in \nscience as well as in ecclesiasticism may be traced \nto that First Church of Hartford; and thus its \ninfluence probably reaches farther round the \nworld than that of any other organisation in ex- \nistence. \n\nPeople were assisted amazingly to go to meeting \nin those days. In Ipswich when an inhabitant \nfailed, with his wife, to go to church, the General \nCourt ordered that the selectmen should sell the \nman's possessions, so that he and his family might \nlive near the meeting house, and thus find it \nmore convenient to attend its services. \n\nIt became necessary for the Court to regulate \nthe peaks of men's shoes because they had grown \nso long they interfered with kneeling in God's \nhouse. The General Court ordered that no man \nshould wear gold or silver lace or buttons unless \nhe was worth two hundred pounds; neither should \nhe walk in great boots because leather was scarce. \nTimes had changed when Benjamin Franklin \nstood at the bar of the house of Commons in 1766. \nOn examination he was asked \n\n\"What used to be the pride of America?\" \n\n\n338 Old New England Churches \n\n\"To indulge in the fashions and manufactures \nof Great Britain,\" Franklin answered. \n\n\"What is now her pride?\" \n\n\"To wear their old clothes over again until \nthey can make new ones.\" \n\nThere were marvellous burial customs in that \nday. When Winthrop died a barrel and a half \nof powder was burned, though why the Puritans \nshould do anything so supererogatory cannot be \nimagined since it was taken for granted that \ndeath itself implied fireworks and a hot \ntime for most people. At the death of the \nRev. Thomas Sheperd, Judge Sewall writes in \nhis diary, \" It seems there were some verses, \nbut none pinned on the herse. Scholars went \nbefore the herse.\" This gives the key to certain \nsurviving customs. \n\nPeople went to funerals from the same motive \nthat takes them now to a game of Bridge — to \nwin : this extraordinary man, Sewall, who turned \nhis soul inside out on paper, mentions also in his \ndiary, apropos of his refusal to go to the funeral \nof a wicked man: \n\n\"Had gloves sent me but staid at home, and by \nthat means lost a ring. ' ' \n\nDoctor Andrew Eliot must according to calcu- \n\n\nFirst Church, Hartford, Conn. 339 \n\nlation have received one hundred and twenty- \nnine pairs of gloves at funerals, baptisms, and \nweddings during thirty- two years; and he turned \nabout sixty-four dollars' worth of these to good \naccount. \n\n\nFIRST CHURCH (''OLD JERUSALEM\"), \nPORTLAND, ME. \n\n\nCHAPTER XXI \n\nFirst Church (\"Old Jerusalem\"), Portland, \n\nMaine \n\nTHE history of this parish begins when \nthe four towns, Portland, Falmouth, \nCape Elizabeth, and Westbrook were incor- \nporated under one government and called Fal- \nmouth. In 1725 there were but forty-five fami- \nlies in the town of Falmouth and the meeting house \nhad existed about five years. At first it was the \nliving room, so to speak, of all the people. This \nregion so far away from the centre of New England \ncivilisation, was poorer and more desolate than \nmost of the settlements, even in their beginnings; \nand Falmouth seems to have been less purpose- \nful, therefore unorganised. \n\nThe settlement was too poor to have a \npreacher when the meeting house was made, \nand it necessarily served as a barracks for \nfishermen or soldiers, and also as a sort of \ninn at which visitors could put up. Until \n1725, when the Rev. Thomas Smith came, \n\nthe parish had been only itinerantly served. \n\n343 \n\n\n344 Old New England Churches \n\nWith his coming there rolled in upon Falmouth \nthat seventh wave which brings prosperity, and \nwe read of the glazing of the meeting house — \nwith glass furnished by Governor Wentworth — \nand of its being handsomely finished on the out- \nside. Ihis was the beginning of the first church \nin Portland as distinguished from that of Fal- \nmouth. Just one hundred years after that time \nthe last church was erected. Tranquillity had come \nto the town with a ratification of peace with the \nIndians; and it was a sense of remoteness doubt- \nless that gave the citizens courage to improve their \ncondition. The first established preacher, the \nRev. Mr. Smith, made for himself so firm a place \nin the hearts of his parishioners that in the spring \nof 1734 they volunteered to build a fortification \naround his house, the work to be done by relays \nof fifty men. This stockade was built with watch \nboxes upon which swivel guns were mounted. Next \nthey began to discuss the erection of a new church. \nThe citizens were not unanimous in desiring it, and \nboth parties met, each with the purpose of main- \ntaining its own view, but they must have got to- \ngether on a common ground, for the Rev. Mr. Smith \ndeclared this to be the \" happiest meeting Falmouth \never had, \" and the result was the new church. \n\n\nFirst Church, Portland, Me. \n\n\n345 \n\n\nThe first service held in it was on the 20th of July, \n1740. The old building became the town house, \nand served for civil purposes until it was burned \nin the fire of 1775. This second meeting house \nof Portland, or Falmouth, was originally without a \nspire and there was some division of opinion about \nsecuring a bell. Those who lived too far away to be \nprofited by a bell were not altruistic enough \nwillingly to be taxed for the benefit of others. \nHowever, in 1758, a bell was procured and a \nframe made to hold it was up put near the meet- \ning house. In its detached and isolated position \nthis bell became a scarecrow, and soon a steeple \nbecame through pride, a part of the Portland \nmeeting house equipment. By the time more \nroom was needed in the second meeting house a \nunique architectural plan of making it was em- \nployed. The end of the house was sawed off, \nmoved away the desired distance and a piece put \nin. Three years later the bell frame was made a \npart of the meeting house structure. \n\nThe next step in this church's history was when \nthe old building gave place to a fine new one of \ngranite. The old church was a battered veteran, \nhaving stood bombardments and shatterings by \nBritish balls, but in its remote position it had \n\n\n346 Old New England Churches \n\nescaped fire. One of the balls which pierced the \nbuilding and fell into the house was affixed to the \nceiling in the new church, and afterward a chan- \ndelier was suspended from it. \n\nIt had seemed impossible in 1758 for the congre- \ngation to live in peace and unity, and the town \nsplit into four parishes. Those living far from \nthe church had continually agitated the question \nof moving it into town, but when the repairs, \nthe new equipment of bell and steeple, and even \nan associate pastor came to the vote it was plain \nto the dissenters that the church never would \n\"move into town,\" hence they decided to build \na house of their own. There was always a lack \nof unity among the citizens. There were no large \nor embarrassing disagreements but many petty \nannoyances that made commonalty of feeling \nand action in the parish impossible. Perhaps \nthe most serious distraction was that which had \nto do with the situation of the church — the in- \nconvenience of its location — for it had not been \nerected under the colonial rule that the meeting \nhouse should be the \"centre of the town.\" Even \nhad the usual dispute arisen, \"Where is the centre \nof the town?\" it might have been somewhat \nbetter to have placed it with an attempt at focus. \n\n\nFirst Church, Portland, Me. 347 \n\nSomebody might then have been pleased, but as it \nwas nobody seems to have been pleased. \n\nThough this was one of the most conservative \nof all parishes, settlers, elsewhere persecuted, \ncame to Falmouth to escape. Tate and Brady's \nhymns were used in the church until 1802. It was \nin the second exclusively church building that \nthe convention was held which framed the con- \nstitution of Maine. \n\nAt this time occurred the ordination of the Rev. \nMr. Smith. The one memorable day in a New \nEngland parson's life was that of his ordination. \nA county fair years later brought together no \nmore people under no more gala conditions than \ndid the ordination of a preacher in New England. \nIt is not often that from so dry a source as sta- \ntistics one can extract much colour and vitality, \nor pictures of riot and license, but memoranda of \nthese ordination affairs present these things. There \nwere processions of councilmen and gentlemen, \ntownsmen and countrymen. The band played and \nthe edibles went round, the meeting house filled and \nemptied and filled again to overcrowding, and \nmore money was spent by the town, which as- \nsessed it out of the citizens, in one day than the \npreacher got in a year. We read in the records \n\n\n348 Old New England Churches \n\nof one town the following ordination bills, all met \nby its citizens: * \n\n433 dinners £44 2s 6d \n\n178 suppers 8 18 \n\nKeeping 32 horses 4 days . . 3 \n\n6^ bbls. of cider . . . . 4 11 \n\n25 gal. of wine 9 n \n\n2 gal. of brandy & 4 of rum , 116 \n\nLoaf sugar, lime juice & pipes . i 12 \n\n\"32 horses 4 days\" tells us that the ordination \nprobably lasted as long as rum and the town's \nexchequer held out. When New England got \nreligion or a preacher it got them bad; but \ngaiety they seem to have had worse. The \nmeeting house all these days was so crowded \nthat we read in one town they were seated upon \nthe beams over the congregation, and to quote \nfrom a letter written at the time: \n\n'* There was a disturbance in ye gallery when it \nwas filled with divers negroes, mulattoes, and In- \ndians, and a negro called Pomp Shorter belonging \nto Mr. Gardner was called forth and put in ye \nbroad aisle where he was reproved with great \nawefulness and solemnity. He was then put in ye \ndeacons' seat, between 2 Deacons in view of ye \nwhole Congregation, but ye sexton was ordered \nby Prescott to take him out because of his levity \nand strange contortions of countenance, giving \ngreat scandal to ye grave deacons, and put him \nin ye lobb}^ on ye stairs. Some children and a \nmulatto woman were reprimanded for laughing \nat Pomp Shorter.\" \n\n\nFirst Church, Portland, Me. 349 \n\nThe Rev. Thomas Smith made a note in his diary \nto the effect that \"when Mr. Foxcroft was or- \ndained at Gloucester we had a pleasant journey \nhome. Mr. Longfellow was alert and kept us all \nmerry. A jolly ordination. We lost sight of \ndecorum.\" But the New England preacher's \nordination was the end of cakes and ale for him. \nHe usually spent the rest of his life in trying to \ncollect some part of the salary that had been voted \nhim. \n\nIt is said there were not three rich men in the \ntown of Portland, yet Sir William Pepperell and \nSamuel Sparhawk, his son-in-law, lived there. \n\nThere was a ferry kept by Lieutenant Ben- \njamin Wright with whom it was arranged that \nthe inhabitants \" on this side of the river as \noccasion calls for it, shall be carried over to meet- \ning without paying ferriage.\" The historian men- \ntions in conjunction with this enterprise of the \nlieutenant's, \"It is noticeable that in early records \nall the minor military officers have their titles \nperpetuated. This is according to law.\" The \ndecree reads, it is \" ordered that all military officers \nelected shall retain their titles ever after unless \nthey are promoted.\" Byron described military \nglory as \" being shot through the body and having \n\n\n35 o Old New England Churches \n\nyour name spelled wrong in the Gazette. \" \nThese may have been the conditions in England \nbut in New England a lasting provision for glory's \nperpetuation was made. \n\nWe have a description of a certain remarkable \ninterior of one of these several meeting houses \nbelonging to the first parish: \n\n\"The pulpit was opposite the front entrance \nin the middle length of the house. It was a for- \nmidable looking structure painted white, re- \nlieved with green, and over the standing place for \nthe minister was the inevitable elaborate sound- \ning board of the time, hanging by a rod from a \npineapple in the centre and not more than three \nfeet from the minister's head. . . . The mas- \nsive timber of the frame was of white oak and \nselected with as much care as if it was going into \na frigate.\" \n\nWilliam Goold in his \"History of Portland\" \npresents his reminiscences most picturesquely: \n\n\"An incident comes to my mind. In October, \n1 82 1, Rev. Mr. Payson (before he was a D. D.) \nwas invited by the Portland, Maine, Bible Society \nto address the seamen. . . . The seamen were \nnumerous, and were a much more distinct class \nthen than now in dress and manners. They did \nnot often hear a sermon. The 'Old Jerusalem' as \nthe memorable church was called, was chosen. \nIt was a season in which there were many sailors \nin port and an effort was made to have them fill \n\n\nFirst Church, Portland, Me. 351 \n\nthe lower floor of the church. All sailor board- \ning house keepers were invited to go with their \nboarders. It was a novel occasion and all went. \nHoratio G. Quincy, a Universalist, kept the large- \nest and best house — and it was standing in Fore \nStreet between Portland pier and the custom \nhouse. Mr. Quincy marshalled his own men, and \nall other sailors who would join him, which made \na long and remarkable procession. Quincy had \na heavy wooden leg and when the procession \nwent through the waiting crowd, cheers could \nhardly be suppressed, but when that worthy, \nwounded man entered the uncarpeted aisle with \nhis wooden stump, his well-known step awakened \nthe enthusiasm of the audience. They forgot \nthe place and the day, and gave a round of ap- \nplause. The house was packed as it never had \nbeen before. . . . The speaker had been de- \npicting the final judgment and used this language: \n'Then our world, driven by the last tempest, will \nstrike and be dashed to pieces on the shores of \nEternity. Hark! What a crash!' At this point \nan excited sailor jumped to his feet and cried out, \n'She has struck!' which caused those in the gal- \nlery to try to look below, thinking the over- \ncrowded galleries were giving way. A board on \nwhich several men were standing broke, which \nadded further to the panic. Some of the lower \nwindow sashes were gotten up and many jumped \nto the ground. In the gallery many climbed \ninto the braces.\" \n\nIn 1774 the bell \"tolled all day as the harbour \nof Boston was shut up.\" Despite its own trials, \n\n\n352 Old New England Churches \n\nthe bell continued to record the vicissitudes of \nthe country for many a year. In 1791 it was \n\"voted to recast the bell provided the expense \ndoes not exceed one-half of what it cost to recast \nit before.\" One historian says that the sextons \nof all other churches waited for the bell of \"Old \nJerusalem\" to give the first note. When it gave \nthe alarm of fire no bell stopped ringing so long as \nthis one continued to give tongue. It was a veri- \ntable aristocrat of a bell. \n\nThere is much personal history connected with \nthe old meeting house. When at last it was pulled \ndown the ordinary methods of razing did not avail, \nand it fell reluctantly only after the posts had \nbeen sawn asunder and the heavy oaken beams \ncut. The local poet seems to have got loose, but \nwe forgive him for his apparent sincerity: \n\n\"Five score years it stood; \nYes, they built it well, \nThough they built of wood ; \nWhen that house arose, \nFor its crossbeams square, \nOak and walnut fell. \nLittle worse for wear, \nDown the old house goes.\" \n\n\nOLD NORTH CHURCH, PORTSMOUTH, \n\nN. H. \n\n\nCHAPTER XXII \n\nOld North Church, Portsmouth, New Hamp- \nshire \n\nTHE people of Portsmouth established \nthemselves in the interests of their trade, \nwhich was fishmongering. A church and par- \nsonage were built without the strong eccle- \nsiastical impulse dominant elsewhere, and Ports- \nmouth was two years behind New Haven and \nseveral other colonies in settling her minister. \nTwenty of the townsmen deeded to their church \nwardens \"50 acres of land for a glebe, \" and in 1657 \na substantial meeting house was built a few rods \nsouth of the South mill dam, a hill being chosen for \nthe site. The congregation had not been without \npreachers during its infant years, but these had \nfor the most part been itinerant. \n\nPublic spirit rather than spiritual enterprise \nseems to have been the occasion of the new meet- \ning house. In 1658, while the structure was in \nprogress, Joshua Moodey was called to the pulpit. \nIf Portsmouth had been a long time in arraigning \n\nitself with the godly it did not lack energy when \n\n355 \n\n\n356 Old New England Churches \n\nthe time came for declaring itself on the Lord's \nside, and it made a cage of discipline. Its con- \ngregation had to be good, recognise the purpose \nof the meeting house and the function of the new \nminister, or forthwith be caged. Those who slept \nor who took tobacco on the Lord's day through \nthe church service were immediately placed be- \nhind bars. Not only were the delinquents of the \ncongregation thus treated, but over in Massachusetts \nthe sauce for the goose was mete for the minister, \nin case he absented himself a month from public \nworship and could not pay his fine of forty shillings. \nIn these circumstances the preacher was \"to be \nset in the cage or stocks not exceeding three hours \naccording to the discretion of the church.\" Ports- \nmouth's finer sensibilities demanded that even \nher stocks should be enclosed within a cage, and on \ntop of the cage was set the pillory. This extraor- \ndinary machinery was to protect its prisoners \nfrom being pelted with refuse while undergoing \npunishment. \n\nThere seems to have been no special theological \nrigidity in Portsmouth but much practical ex- \nhibition of a determined spirit. The rod was not \nspared to the spoiling of the congregation, and \nin 1662 it is recorded that \"a cage be made or \n\n\nOld North Church, Portsmouth, N. H. 357 \n\nsome other means invented for such as sleepe on \nthe Lord's Daie.\" \n\nThe church, here as elsewhere, served as a kind \nof ledger for the townspeople who brought \nwolves' heads on which to collect bounty. At \nPortsmouth these heads were nailed upon the \nmeeting house door; near by in Hampton parish, \nit was ordered that they be nailed \"to a little \noke tree at the northeast end of the meeting \nhouse.\" These may have been the superfluous \nheads that could not find room on the door. \nDoubtless wild-cats' ears ornamented the church \nwalls, since there was also a bounty on them. We \nknow Dedham paid sixpence for \"an inch and a \nhalfe of the end of a rattle snake's tail with the \nrattle.\" \n\nPortsmouth had its share of difficulty with its \nboys, and if a bit of town news quoted in the New \nHaven Chronicle of March 13, 1787, establishes \nthe average of male births we cannot but extend \nour sympathy to that early community. \n\n\"There are now living in this town a lady and \ngentleman who have not been married more than \ntwenty years, and yet have eighteen sons; ten \nof the number are at sea, and eight at home with \ntheir parents.\" \n\n\n358 Old New England Churches \n\nThe preacher who made church history in \nPortsmouth was the Rev. Mr. Moodey, without \nquestion one of the ablest and bravest of New \nEngland divines. Most of these preachers had \nevery difficulty to contend with, except a lack of \nspiritual zeal; but that was always present, there- \nfore it became with most of them largely a \nmatter of formulating and regulating that \nwhich existed so dominantly. Mr. Moodey, \nhowever, had to be largely creative in his \nsphere, but in all probability Portsmouth \nfound even a forced religious sentiment an advan- \ntage to the community. It certainly existed \nmore as a luxury to be indulged in when there \nwere time and means for it, than as a necessity \nto be maintained before all other things. That \nfirst preacher must frequently have gone into the \nhighways and byways and compelled his people \nto come in. He must have established that which \nuntil his coming had been alien to them — spiritual \ndesire. He did not even find the tools of his \ntrade on coming to Portsmouth. Professing Christ- \nians came from elsewhere in time, and thus the \nleaven of righteousness was introduced into this \nvery materially conceived and established church. \nThe}'- came because they could \" no longer satisfy \n\n\nOld North Church, Portsmouth, N. H. 359 \n\nthemselves to live without those strengthening \nand satisfying ordinances which their souls had \ntasted the good of in times past, and others well \neffected to the work, professed their longings after \nthe fat and marrowed things of God's house.\" \n\nBesides the preaching in the church, house-to- \nhouse meetings were held by these new-comers. \nAlthough the meeting house had been built in \n1658, it was not until 1671 that the solemn or- \ndination of Mr. Moodey took place. A deacon \nwas chosen at the same time. After this we read \nof ten years of peace and equity in Portsmouth, \nduring which there were no dissensions in the \nchurch important enough to record ; but then came \na conflict between civil and ecclesiastical authority \nwhich temporarily interfered with the welfare of \nthe town. A member of the church was charged \nwith false swearing in some matter relating to his \nfishing business. The affair was hushed up and \nthe governor took no action, but the minister was \nalive to his function as spiritual guide, judge, and \nexecutioner if need be. In a strenuous sermon \nhe denounced the evil of false swearing and called \nthe man to account. The offender was not able \nto sit silent under this scathing arraignment. \nTherefore he made a public confession of his guilt. \n\n\n360 Old New England Churches \n\nGovernor Cranfield was in no mind to pardon this \nindependent action of Moodey's and he determined \nto ruin the Portsmouth preacher. The Conform- \nity Act of Charles II was his opportunity, and \nin his official capacity Cranfield issued an edict \nthat \" all persons who desired it should be ad- \nmitted to the Lord's vSupper according to the \nlithurgy of the English Church.\" After having \nthis decree formally set forth, the governor sent \nMoodey word that he and two friends would, in \nhis church, partake of the sacrament on the fol- \nlowing Sabbath. This placed Moodey on the \nhorns of a dilemma: account to his governor or \naccount to his God? There seems to have been \nno hesitancy on his part as to which horn he should \nseize. He refused to receive the governor and \nhis friends, and in turn was thrown into jail in \nNew Castle. One of his little flock wrote patheti- \ncally at the time to a citizen of the small Ports- \nmouth community: \n\n\"Our menester lyees in prison and a famine \nof the word of God comeing upon us. . . . The \nSabbath has come but no preching at the Banke \nmotyones have been made that Mr. Moodey may \ngo up and preach on the Lord's daye tho' he come \ndown to prison at night, or that any naibor mini- \nsters might be permitted to come and preach, or \n\n\nOld North Church, Portsmouth, N. H. 361 \n\nthat the people might come down to the prison \nand heare as many as could, but nothing will doe. \nGood Mrs. Martin was buried being not able to \nlive above one Sabbath after the shutting up of \nthe doors of the sanctuary.\" \n\nThe desolation of that community without its \npreacher, its utter dependence upon the spiritual \nrule for which Moodey stood, are perfectly pre- \nsented by this cry from one of its citizens. \n\nMr. Moodey eloquently wrote to a brother \nmiinister imploring his assistance for his people : \n\n\" Oh consider that my poor flock have fasted \nabout forty days and must be an hungered. Have \npity upon them, have pity upon them, O, thou, \nmy friend, and when you have taken yr turn we \nshall hope for some other. Let this good work \nfor the house of God be done that you may be \nblessed of God for good. You will thereby not \nonly visit me in prison, but feed a great multi- \ntude of the hungry and thirsty little ones in \nChrist, which will be accounted for at that day.\" \n\nThroughout New England chronicles there is \ndescribed no more distressful situation than this be- \ncause in no other community was the dependence \non its spiritual head so entire as it was here. \nThe anguish of people and preacher are fairly and \nimpressively expressed: Moodey's sense of being \nneeded and their sense of need ! \n\n\n362 Old New England Churches ■ \n\nMoodey was released thirteen weeks later on \ncondition that he leave the colony. He went to \nBoston and remained there for ten years, but \nhis people were never forgotten by him, and they \nclaimed his advice and received it, as in the former \ndays. It was permitted him to return to the \nparish in 1693 and to minister there for four years \nbefore he died. His last words were: \"The \nlife of the churches, the life of the churches; I \nbeseech you to look after that.\" \n\nThe relation between Moodey and his parish \nwas more intimate than almost any other we read \nof at that time. There was a loving tenderness, \na compelling humanity in all that was said and \ndone. His preaching must have been powerful \nfor we read of families that came many miles \nthrough the coldest winters and in the dreadful \nheat of New England summers, regularly, to hear \nMoodey during all the years of his gentle admin- \nistration. \n\nThe comfortless meeting house, crude and \nbadly built, nevertheless endured for fifty years, \nbut at the end of that time the town decided to \nbuild a new house on another comer of the glebe \nland. Much local excitement and opposition \nprevailed. The town was divided, and even while \n\n\nOld North Church, Portsmouth, N. H. 363 \n\nthe building was going up the question was un- \nsettled : Should the new house stand for the First \nChurch — the new minister Mr. Rogers, be trans- \nferred from the old pulpit to the new; or should \nthose in favour of the new house form a new con- \ngregation and consider itself an infant parish with- \nout history, without tradition, without martyrs, \nwith naught but a pastor? At last some sort of \nan understanding was reached, Nathaniel Rogers \nwas moved from the old house to the new, and the \nFirst Church prevailed. \n\nFollowing the house-warming came new ambi- \ntions to the town. It must have a clock, it must \nhave a bell; and hence it was decided that the \nprivilege should be granted to a \" person or \nnumber of persons to give a clock at their own \ncost, to set it up in the steeple of their Meeting \nhouse, so that its hammer might strike on the bell.\" \nDaniel Pierce with several other citizens finally \nmade the purchase of a clock and gave it to the \ntown on the 25th of March, 1749. The clock \nstruck the hours so that the congregation, in a \nsingle gift, acquired its twin wish, for clock and \nbell. No other clock was needed for many years, \nbut at length Mr. Simon Willard made a new one \nthat did its work faithfully and accurately for fifty \n\n\n364 Old New England Churches \n\nyears, and at the end of that time it was pro- \nnounced as good as new. In 1856, it was deter- \nmined that the original bell should be used with \nthe comparatively new clock, which had told \ntime for only half a century; but the old bell found \na watery grave. It was sent to England for repairs \nand lost on the voyage. \n\nThe second preacher of Portsmouth church, \nNathaniel Rogers, was the son of a president of \nHarvard College. By that time Portsmouth had be- \ncome distinguished for the elegance and splendour \nof its living, its generosity, its hospitality, and its \nwealth. It may have been its spiritual birth \nwhich had reacted so splendidly upon its fortunes, \nor its well being may have been due to the hard- \nheaded trade-instincts of its fishermen-founders, \nbut most likely it was a happy result of the com- \nbination, good sense and spiritual aspiration. We \nhave record of \" cocked hats and gold-headed \ncanes, embroidered waistcoats and gold-laced \ncoats,\" which \"glided up the aisles of the old \nmeeting house ; while chariots with liveried footmen \nwere standing at the door. ' ' It was to this new mag- \nnificence that Joseph Buckminster came in 1779. \n\nAll the while Portsmouth had lived somewhat \nahead of its time, and finally in 1835 a new meet- \n\n\nCourtesy of Rev. L. H. Thayer \nOLD NORTH CHURCH. PORTSMOUTH. NEW HAMPSHIRE \nWTiose meeting house history tells a story of greater prosperity than that of any other meeting house in New England \n\n\nOld North Church, Portsmouth, N. H. 365 \n\ning house was to be had; modem in style, quite \nup to the most exigent demands of its congre- \ngation. While the house was not a new structure, \nit was a completely remodelled one. The Rev. \nEdwin Holt was the first to occupy its pulpit. \nWhen it was decided, about 1855, to rebuild from \nsill to steeple, not more than, thirty-seven parish- \nioners were needed to meet the subscription of \ntwenty-four thousand dollars, so generous and \npublic-spirited were the people of the parish. \n\nIt is said that no \" schism or fatal alienation has \nsprung up between the members, though at times \nthe religious character of the church has been \nmournfully low.\" In all its history we read of \nfraternity, energy, generosity, public spirit and \na devotion to its several preachers, which its \npreachers in turn reciprocated. \n\nAt that time was a steadily growing prosperity, \nand among all New England churches Ports- \nmouth's seemed to stand apart as peculiarly healthy \nand successful in purpose and inclination. \n\n\nOLD ST. JOHN'S CHURCH, PORTS- \nMOUTH, N. H. \n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII \n\nOld St. John's Church, Portsmouth, New \n\nHampshire \n\nTHE first public worship in Portsmouth, \nthen known as Strawberry Bank, was \nEpiscopal, but the first parish was Puritan. \nSir Richard Gibson was the first pastor of St. \nJohn's but he was not well liked by the parish, \nif we may judge by his own statement, \"I was \ncalled by this man a base priest, whereby I \nwas much disparaged in my ministry.\" There \nseems to have been nothing against Gibson except \nsome irregularities in the performance of mar- \nriages and baptisms. In all probability he acted \nconscientiously enough and the faults were techni- \ncal. There is a deal of romance connected with \nthis parish and it begins promptly. The church \nwas built in 1732 and the Rev. Arthur Browne \nbecame at once its rector. It was he who married \nGovernor Benning Wentworth to Martha Hilton, \nthe governor's housekeeper. Of Martha we have \na picture made poetic by Longfellow, and the \n\nfact that the governor married her testifies either \n\n369 \n\n\n370 Old New England Churches \n\nto her charms or to his lack of taste. The former \nis the more Hkely, for the governor no sooner died \nthan she was wedded again, ahnost before her \nmourning was wrinkled. Longfellow has immor- \ntalised her thus: \n\n\"'O, Martha Hilton, fie, how dare you go \nAbout the town half dressed and loofing so?' \n\nAt which the gypsy laughed and straight replied : \n'No matter how I look; I yet shall ride \nIn my own chariot, ma'am.' \" \n\nRev. Arthur Browne greatly objected to solemnis- \ning the governor's marriage on account of \nthe difference in age between bride and groom; \nbut the general unfitness of the match may have \nbeen the more vital cause. Governor Went- \nworth was sixty years old on his wedding day and \nhe revealed his intentions to the Rev. Arthur \nBrowne under truly picturesque circumstances. \nHis birthday was being celebrated with magnifi- \ncence and lavishness. The rector Browne was \nan honoured guest since \" in those days church \nand state were never far apart, even on occasions \nwhen each heartily disapproved of the other.\" \nWith the walnuts and the wine, or more likely, \nwith the \"soldiers' drink,\" the girl slipped into \nthe room by prearrangement with the Governor \nwho arose, welcomed her, and amazed his guests \n\n\nOld St. John's Church, Portsmouth, N. H. 371 \n\nby demanding that the Rev. Mr. Browne then and \nthere perform the marriage ceremony. The rec- \ntor hesitated but the governor produced a ring, \nplaced it on Martha's finger \n\n\" . . . . and that was all : \n\nMartha was Lady Wentworth of the Hall.\" \n\nThis venture was fatal to the governor, for \nhe died very soon after. Martha seemed deter- \nmined to go through the family, for she next \nmarried Michael Wentworth, the governor's \nbrother; and again St. John's rector officiated. \n\nAnother romantic marriage recorded on the \nregister is that of Col. Theodore Atkinson, Jr.; \nand in connection with this name we have much \nmore incident than is associated with the church. \nThe story of the Portsmouth marriages has been \ntold elsewhere with much literary charm, and \nneed not be particularly discussed here since it \nbears only indirectly upon the church's history. \nIt was in St. John's Church that Mr. Rousselet \nbegan his courtship of Miss Catherine Moffatt. \nHe handed her the Bible with the fifth verse of \nthe second epistle of John underscored: \n\n\" And now I beseech thee, lady, not as though \nI wrote a new commandment unto thee, but that \nwhich we had from the beginning, that we love \none another.\" \n\n\n372 Old New England Churches \n\nWhereupon Miss Moffatt indicated the first chap- \nter of Ruth, the sixteenth verse: \n\n\"Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou \nlodgest, I will lodge; thy people will be my \npeople and thy God, my God. Where thou \ndiest, will I die, and there will I be buried; the \nLord do so to me and more also, if aught but \ndeath part thee from me.\" \n\nThe site for St. John's Church on Church Hill \nwas given to the parish by an Englishman, and \nthe first structure was Queen's Chapel, so named \nin honour of Queen Caroline. She, in recognition \nof this christening, sent the parish a Bible, prayer \nbooks, and a communion service. The last is \nstill in use. The Bible came to be known as the \n\"vinegar Bible.\" Franklin Ware Davis presents \nits history thus: \n\n\"It was published in 17 17 by John Basket of \nOxford, the 'King's printer,' on the best of vellum. \nA mistake was made in the guide line at the head \nof one page in the gospels, and the compositor \nmade a few volumes and his employer's name fa- \nmous ever after by setting up the words 'parable \nof the vinegar' instead of 'the vineyard.' Forty \ncopies had been struck off before this was noticed. \nOf these only four exist to-day. These are at \nSt. John's, Portsmouth; Christ's Churth, Bos- \nton; Christ Church, Philadelphia; and the Len- \nox Library, New York.\" \n\n\nOld St. John's Church, Portsmouth, N. H. 373 \n\nFranklin Davis gives us another detail of \ninterest. When independence was declared, and \nprayers for the English sovereigns had become \nobjectionable, there was pasted over the old ones \ncertain new forms of prayer. This was done either \nin a spirit of thrift or as the result of necessity, \nsince probably new books were unobtainable. \nAn English officer in looking over the prayer book \nfound the extraordinary readjustment and in his \nrage cut out the page with his sword. This is \nnot well authenticated but it makes a good story, \nand it were a shame to lose a good story even if \none must make poor history. St. John's bell has its \nhistory also. When Pepperell stormed Louis- \nbourg his men captured the bell which had hung \nin the French cathedral. This was presented to \nQueen's Chapel in 1806. The chapel was burned \nand the bell was cracked in the heat but afterward \nit was recast by Paul Revere. In 1896 it again \ncracked and the successors to the Paul Revere com- \npany again recast it. It now bears the words, \n\n\"From St. John's steeple \nI call the people \nOn holy days \nTo prayer and praise.' \n\nThese lines were an inspiration of one of the \nWentworths. \n\n\n376 Old New England Churches \n\nas he pleased, the reverend gentleman finally \nwithdrew and sought another church. \n\nOn the morning before Christmas, 1806, Queen's \nChapel was burned down and the members of \nSt. John's parish were housed with those of the \nNorth meeting house. The Rev. Mr. Buck- \nminster of the North Church preached the Christ- \nmas sermon to the united congregations, using the \ntext, \" Our holy and beautiful house, where our \nfathers praised thee, is burned up with fire.\" \nTo the new church which was immediately built \nand called St. John's, Trinity Church of Boston \ncontributed one thousand dollars. \n\nSt. John's has had its place in fiction, for Sarah \nOme Jewett describes it in \" The Country Doctor.\" \nThe credence table is made of wood which was \nonce a part of the United States frigate Hartford, \nthe flagship of Admiral Farragut at the capture of \nNew Orleans. The church's equipment has come \nfrom all parts of the world, the font being a trophy \ntaken by Colonel Tom Mason from the French \nat the capture of Senegal. Tradition has it \nthat the French had stolen it from a heathen \ntemple. \n\nThe \"Brattle organ\" once owned by Thomas \nBrattle, was imported from London in 17 13. It \n\n\nOld St. John's Churchy Portsmouth, N. H. 377 \n\nwas originally left to Brattle Street Church in \nBoston and was \n\n\" Given and devoted to the praise and worship \nof God in the said church, if they shall accept \nthereof and within a year after my decease, pro- \ncure a sober person who can play skilfully thereon \nwith a loud noise.\" \n\nBrattle Street Church did not comply with the \nconditions, lacking either a man of sobriety or \none who could make a loud noise, and the organ \nwent to King's Chapel, and afterward to St. \nPaul's in Newburyport. It did service there \nfor eighty years, and finally in 1836 St. John's \nbecame its home. \n\nIn St. John's burying ground lie all the Went- \nworths and their families, with the exceotion of \nthe last generation. \n\nAn amusing story is told of one of St. John's \nrectors, Dr. Burroughs, at a little village called \nGosport on the Isle of Shoals, a favourite summer- \ning place, where he was in the habit of going for \nthe hot months. On one occasion he remained four \nweeks, and as the little church was unused, the \nvillage having no pastor, the Reverend Doctor, \nwishing to do a graceful act, preached in it for \nfour Sundays. The time came for his departure \n\n\n378 Old New England Churches \n\nand no vote of thanks had reached him. He at- \ntributed this to an oversight ; but as he was about \nto enter the boat which was to take him from the \nisland, a boy came running down to the dock \nwaving a piece of paper that looked to the Doctor \nas if it might be the delayed vote of thanks. He \nbegan to consider a suitable reply to send back, \nbut when he opened the paper he found it to be \na bill for the use of the church for the four Sundays. \nThe good Doctor meekly paid and meekly de- \nparted. \n\nWe have on the records of this church much \nthat is unique ; for example an entry of a death : \n\"An infant child, aged three weeks, unbaptised \n\nof Mr. & wife of sore mouth and fits\"; there \n\nare a good many unquotable items which have \nreference to disease and death. \n\nOld St. John's has more legendary history than \nany other church in New England. The curfew \nwas still rung and the church still sentinelled, \nten years ago in picturesque and primitive Ports- \nmouth town. \n\n\nFIRST CHURCH, DOVER, N. H. \n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV \nFirst Church, Dover, New Hampshire \n\nDOVER was the first settlement in the state of \nNew Hampshire, and seventeen years after \nits beginning at the \"Neck,\" \"the inhabitants of \nDover, having stiffered much from great irregu- \nlarity in their civil and ecclesiastical affairs,\" sub- \nmitted itself to the laws of England. The next \nyear they decided \" to be ruled and ordered in all \ncases, civil and criminal, and to be subject to pay \nin church and commonwealth as the inhabitants \nof Massachusetts pay.\" Thus they fell under the \nadministration of Massachusetts. \n\nThe first Congregational church in Dover was \nestablished in 1638, probably some time in Novem- \nber. Unlike the churches of many of the other \ncolonies this one was organised by a little company \nwho had come to this country unhampered or \nunsustained, by religious views and theories. \nThey were a little company of fishermen whose \ntime was given over to catching and selling; \nbut they brought with them a pastor, the \n\nRev. William Leveridge, and they by no means \n\n381 \n\n\n382 Old New England Churches \n\nregarded spiritual affairs inconsequently. The im- \nmigrant preacher did not remain long with the \ncolonists but removed to Boston. \n\nAn elevated site was chosen for the first meeting \nhouse and it was \"beautiful for situation\"; but \nlike other structures of those days it was of logs \nand mud, probably not \" daubed over workman- \nlike.\" Dover had lived for fifteen years after its \nsettlement without a meeting house. \n\nThe first preacher of the organised church was \nthe Rev. Hansard Knollys. In all probability \nhe was not severe enough to control these prac- \ntically-minded men, who seemed so much less \nspiritually developed than their neighbours. In \nshort it was the misfortune of these early Dover- \nites to have in ecclesiastical control men who were \nmore or less divided between their theological \nresponsibilities and things mundane, but Mr. \nKnollys must have been a man of considerable \nforce of one kind or another since he created con- \nsiderable disturbance. \n\nDuring the first five years of their church rule, \nthe good people of Dover found it necessary to \nestablish a strict guardianship over their preachers, \nbut they met with better fortune when the Rev. \nDaniel Maud came. He remained their preacher \n\n\nFIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, DOVER. NEW HAMPSHIRE \nWhich is almost the only early Colonial church of the Puritans whose record is without the blot of witchcraft \n\n\nFirst Church, Dover, N. H. 383 \n\nfor many years. The best that has been said of \nthe early ministers who tentatively occupied this \npulpit is that they died in the odour of sanctity, \nbut it is certain that Daniel Maud also lived thus. \nThe town records of 1642 declare that \n\n\" Mr. Maud and his wife do enjoy the house in \nwhich they then lived during their lives, provided \nhe continued as a teacher or pastor, and if it \nplease God to call him to it,\" \n\nand more than this he received nearly two hundred \ndollars a year. Dr. Mather represents Mr. Maud \nas the first strictly convenable divine of the Dover \nchurch, and reckons him among the most in- \nfluential crusaders in the wilderness. \n\nBetween 1647 ^^'^ ^662 the church reckoned \namong its elders a Wentworth, parent to the gover- \nnors of that name. At that time affairs at Dover \nwere settled by arbitration. This method of \nadjusting a settlement of local disagreements was \nnot uncommon, but it was customary here to \nchoose three or more Dover citizens each year \nto settle difficulties between citizens. The custom \nspeaks with a loud voice for that individual in- \ntegrity which could command the confidence of \n\na whole people. \n\nDover escaped the blot of witchcraft history but \n\n\n384 Old New England Churches \n\nit has much of intolerance to record. The Quakers \nwere treated with great severity. The citizens \nwhipped \"three traveUing Quaker women\" out \nof town and also gave thirty stripes at the cart's \ntail to Edward Wharton. These stripes were \njudiciously distributed — ten in each of three \ntowns — before the unhappy Quaker finally reached \nhis home in Salem, where probably he was hanged \nas a witch. But in their atrocities the colonists \nwere conscientious, because \" the prevalent opinion \nin most sects in that day was, that tolerance \nwas sinful.\" \n\nThe Dover church was the last church in New \nEngland to give up the apostolic practice of \nbaptising the children of communicants only. \nLater, with other churches, it formed the \"half- \nway covenant\" plan. Then came the frightful \nmassacre on the 28th of June, 1689. Friday \nwas indeed a fatal day to these fishermen \nsettlers, for upon that day full fifty people were \nkilled or taken prisoner by the Indians. Mr. \nPike was the next preacher, and his early dis- \nmissal did not advance the spiritual welfare of \nthe unhappy settlement. He had no impedi- \nment of soul, but alas, he was uncertain of speech \nand confusing to the people of Dover. But spirit- \n\n\nFirst Church, Dover, N. H. 385 \n\nual prosperity was at hand, and a new epoch in \nthe history of Dover arrived when the Rev. Jona- \nthan Gushing came to preach. By this time there \nwere churches in the nearby towns of Somers- \nworth, Barrington, Durham, Lee, and Newington \n— offshoots from the town of Dover — which main- \ntained a sort of family supervision among them- \nselves. It is said that they spent much time in \n\" watching over each other and admonishing each \nother in the Lord.\" Even during Mr. Cushing's \nministry we find the independent, liberty-loving \nDoverites wandering far from ministerial gui- \ndance; though there is considerable disciplining \nrecorded in this administration. \nIt is noted \n\n\" that in the days of Mr. Gushing there was a \ndeacon in the church by the name of John Hayes. \nThere is now a John Hayes, deacon of this church, \nbut what is more remarkable, that same John \nHayes and that same Rev. J. Gushing were both \ngreat grandfathers of our John Hayes and were \nboth also great grandfathers to Brother Peter \nGushing at present a deacon in this church.\" \n\nThis coincidence was discussed in a Thanksgiving \nsermon in 1838. \n\nThe Dover church rejoiced in an historian when \nDr. Belknap came to its pulpit. It was in his day \n\n\n386 Old New England Churches \n\nthat a privilege, which long continued to be given \nto preachers, was established. He demanded four \nSabbaths of each year to himself \" during which \nhe might be absent from his people and devote \nthe time to journeying or to any purpose which \nmight please him.\" This may have been a plea \nfor the indulgence of his literary pursuits, but we \ncannot regret that he arrogated four weeks in the \nyear to himself on any account. So modest a re- \nquest, so momentously recorded, reveals how \npersistently those earty preachers laboured. The \nreverend man deserves to be remembered as much \nfor the humane precedent he established as for \nhis history of New Hampshire. \n\nOne of Dover's parish historians declares that \nduring Dr. Belknap's ministry \n\n\" A firm attachment to evangelical truth and \na spirit of loving piety, the two essential con- \nstituents to the religious prosperity of any people \nappear not to have been remarkably prominent.\" \n\nHowever this may be, there was during this time \na deal less of punishment, censure, and internal \ndissension in Dover than in the other more strictly \nspiritual communities. After Mr. Belknap left \ncame a season of pulpit disturbances. Either \nthe preachers who sought the parish assumed too \n\n\nFirst Church, Dover, N. H. 387 \n\nliberal an attitude toward morals or else Dover \nwas too exacting, because again and again the \npulpit was badly supplied and preachers came \nand went with irritating frequency. \n\nWith the probable exception of Exeter church \nthe Dover church is the oldest in all New Hamp- \nshire, but it has been the least fortunate. By \n1838, on its one hundredth anniversary, fifteen \nministers had filled its pulpit, but only five of \nthese seem to have met the spiritual requirements. \nA pledge to abstain from the use of \" ardent spirits \n\n. . and from the traffic of the same\" be- \ncame a suggestive condition of church member- \nship, but we do not hear of casualties from drunk- \nenness in Dover such as were attendant upon the \n\"raring of the meeting hous\" in man}^ of the \ncolonies where rum was one of the perquisites. \n\nIn 1833 signs of the \" intrenchments and flan- \nkerts\" which surrounded the first Dover church \nwere still to be seen. Near to that meeting house \nthey built the gaol, and the church itself was used \nboth for worship and for the transaction of town \nbusiness. \n\nHere as elsewhere the drum was beaten to call \nthe folks to meeting, and Richard Pinkome was \nthe citizen who was \"ordered to beat the drum \n\n\n388 Old New England Churches \n\nfor meeting on the Lord's-day.\" There was a \nvery excellent and practical reason for this use of \nthe drum in preference to the bell in those ever \nwarlike times. Horns and conch shells, drums \nand rattles, were more in consonance with the \nwild unformed conditions, and less characteristic- \nally evident, when Indian bands waited only for \nopportunity to fall upon a community unawares. \nThe bell in such times would have seemed a direct \nchallenge to destruction. \n\nThe old walls of the First Church doubtless \nwitnessed an extraordinary exhibition when the \necclesiastical quarrel between Knollys and Lark- \nham took place. On that occasion Knollys, the \nPuritan preacher, marched to the court room, \nwhich was in all probability the meeting house, \narmed with a rifle and bearing a Bible \"mounted \non a halberd for an ensign.\" Larkham and his \nfollowers did not accept this challenge but called \nupon the people of Portsmouth for assistance. \nThis could not be rendered because Dover was \nnot in its jurisdiction, but the governor came up \nin a boat with an armed party to the rescue of \nLarkham. Eventually three men, of whom Hugh \nPeters the famous Salem preacher, was one, be- \ncame a commission appointed by the Governor \n\n\nFirst Church, Dover, N. H. 389 \n\nof Massachusetts to settle this dispute. Their \nfinding was a tolerant one, in that they decided \nboth parties were at fault, and the excommunica- \ntion of the one and the fines and banishment of \nthe other were revoked; thus they hoped to re- \nstore peace. \n\nThe original meeting house witnessed another \npicturesque incident when the Doverites declined \nto recognise the agents of foreign proprietors. \nThey refused to be taxed and persisted in cutting \ndown trees that bore the arrowheads — signs of \nthe absentee owner. Their resistance was extremely \nspirited, and when warrants were issued against \nthe offenders, and the sheriff and his forces tried \nto seize them at church, a tremendous riot arose \nwhich interrupted the sermon. A liberty-loving \nwoman hurled the Bible at the head of one of the \nofficers with such certain aim that it knocked him \ndown and fairly stopped the proceedings. In- \ndeed the sheriff and his posse were so badly treated \nthat we read \"they were glad to escape with their \nlives.\" \n\nThe early fortification about this meeting house \nwas of logs built upon an earthen intrench- \nment, and at the diagonal comers there was \nsome sort of circular tower — doubtless sentinelled \n\n\n390 Old New England Churches \n\n■ — the remains of which can still be seen. From \nthose towers the watcher, in his strange armour \n(probably the ordinary \" coat basted with cotton- \nwool\") could sweep the river, the houses on the \nCocatco bank, and have all the region beyond, \non the Maine shore, in full sight. The heads of \nfamilies marched to meeting armed, and the guns \nwere stacked in the church entry. Onslaughts \nwere frequent and more than once the service was \ninterrupted by the sentinel's call, whereupon the \nwhole congregation went forth to battle and many \nwere picked off by single shots as they left the \nmeeting house. But it was Dover's own treacher- \nous treatment of the Indians which brought upon \nit much of the evil warfare. \n\nOne minister of this early church was also gover- \nnor of the plantation. Town and church records \nwere identical but there was not that interdepen- \ndence of church and state in the Dover settle- \nment which was to be found in the Massachusetts \nand Connecticut colonies. \n\nWe read of a new meeting house in 1655 — • \nbuilt on the site of the old one — which was \"16 \nfeet stud, with 6 windows, 12 doores fitt for \nsuch a house, with a tile covering and all the \nwalls planck.\" But in 1758, in Jonathan Cush- \n\n\nFirst Church, Dover, N. H. 391 \n\ning's time, the third meeting house was built. The \nnorthern end was rebuilt into a dwelling house \nand sold; then in 1829 came the fourth house. \nDover knew much of vicissitude and perhaps \nnot much of spirituality, but with that brute force \nand human assurance which accounts for most col- \nonial success, she finally lived, moved, and had an \norderly being. \n\n\nFIRST CHURCH, CONCORD, N. H. \n\n\nCHAPTER XXV \n\nFirst Church, Concord, New Hampshire \n\nIN CONCORD the conditions of the township \ngrant declared \"that a convenient house for \nthe worship of God be completely finished within \nthe time aforesaid [three years] for the accommo- \ndation of all such as shall inhabit the aforesaid \ntract of land.\" The first public assembly was for \nthe purpose of worship, and this was on May 15, \n1726. There were two services on that day at \nSugar Ball Plain, where those that had come to \nsurvey the township, some of the proprietors and \na committee of the General Court, were in camp; \nand it was also immediately \"agreed and voted, \nthat a block house ... be built at Penny \nCook for security of the settlers.\" At the same \ntime a committee of five was appointed to super- \nvise the erection of this house, and the structure \nwas to be used primarily for defence, as the word- \ning of the vote indicates; but as was usual in \nthese settlements, it was to serve a double pur- \npose, and thus were fulfilled the two conditions of \n\nthe land grant. \n\n.395 \n\n\n396 Old New England Churches \n\nThis first place of worship and fort combined \nwas placed in the midst of the forest; windows \nhigh from the ground for the better security of \nthose within; built of logs and with an earthen \nfloor. The grist mill and the saw mill, those two \nmost important structures of early New England, \ndid not come until after this church-fort was \nbuilt. A couple of years later Concord under- \ntook to improve the interior because the inhabi- \ntants expected \"a learned orthodox minister\" \nto settle among them. \n\nThe settlement at that time was the geographical \nlimit of New World civilisation, and the church \nmarked the frontier. \n\nIn all probability the surveyors and proprietors \nwho encamped here at the earliest date completed \nthe church-fort structure, and had all in readiness \nfor the settlers before they came. Jacob Shute says \n\"that in the fall of the year 1727 \" he assisted in \nmoving up the first family that settled at Penny \nCook, and that he there found a meeting house \nbuilt. In Concord history this is called the second \nmeeting house but it was probably the first struc- \nture given over entirely to the worship of God. \nThe women of the parish did their part when it \ncame to the days of the meeting house \"raring,\" \n\n\nFirst Church, Concord, N. H. 397 \n\nby furnishing the men engaged, with \"such re- \nfreshments as the nature of the arduous work \nrequired.\" The house had neither steeple nor \nchimney. \n\nThere was no organised town government in \nConcord at the time, so that the church had to be \nbuilt by individuals organised for the purpose, \nand they were called the Proprietors of the Meet- \ning House. \n\nThe settling of Concord has its unique phase. \nThe proprietary right to the land was under dis- \npute and the point was not settled for years. It \nwas necessary in order to colonise there at all that \nmen who believed in what they were doing and \nwho had the courage to maintain their rights, as \nthey understood them, should become the settlers. \nThey had to have faith in their own judgment and \nyet be willing to take chances on having their \ninvestment one day rendered futile and possibly \na dead loss to them. They had to be men of some \nmeans and of undoubted moral courage in order \nto cope with this situation. Therefore, both as \nmen of property and men of character, those of \nthis settlement of Concord were somewhat excep- \ntional. It was not until thirteen years had passed \nthat Concord was confident of what she owned. \n\n\n398 Old New England Churches \n\nThe preacher who had the parish in 1764 left \na diary which suggests the new hfe, the new im- \npetus toward development that the town received \nwhen at last \"the Bow controversy\" was settled. \nThis man writes: \n\n\"April 20. Set out 20 apple trees in ye Island \norchard and in ye Joel orchard.\" \"April 23. \nBot 40 apple trees of Philip Eastman, brot. ym \nhome and set ym out.\" \"April 24. Set out \nabout 60 young apple trees in ye house lot.\" \n\"May 2. Set out eight elm trees about my house.\" \n\"June I'j, 1782. Voted to finish the meeting \nhouse in said Concord.\" \"Voted that the com- \nmittee consist of three.\" \"Voted that Colonel \nTimothy Walker, Mr. Robert Harris, and Mr. \nJoseph Hall be a committee for the purpose \naforesaid' ' ; \n\nand about that time it was decided that the town \nshould purchase the interest of the proprietors \nin the meeting house. \n\nIn the course of time (about 1783) we have an \naccount of a fine flamboyant structure. We \nknow there was a belfry and a steeple, and on the \nspire was a gilt weathercock made of copper which \nweighed fifty-six pounds and was four feet high. \nIt had glass eyes and a superabundance of tail \nand \" it always looked ready for a fight, eccles- \niastical or civil.\" Upon the belfry ceiling the \n\n\nFirst Church, Concord, N. H. 399 \n\nthirty-two points of the compass were boldly \npainted, in fine primitive colours. Here as else- \nwhere, the seats were hinged and were emphati- \ncally banged down at the preacher's \"Amen.\" \nThere was a \n\n\"Pretentious sounding board, of elaborate \nworkmanship, as curious of design as it was inno- \ncent of utility. . . . The pulpit was reached by \na flight of stairs on the left side, ornamented by \nballusters of curious patterns, three of which, \neach differing from the others, stood upon each \nstep and supported the rail. The pulpit, striped \nstair carpet, the red silk damask cushion upon \nwhich rested the big Bible, blazing in scarlet and \ngold. ... At the foot of the public stairs \nstood a short mahogany pillar upon which on \nbaptismal occasions was placed the silver font.\" \n\nWhen the choir sang the singers were concealed \nbehind a red curtain. When they ceased the \ncurtain was opened. There is perhaps no other \nrecord of so frank an acknowledgment of the \npainful. The Concord meeting house shut out \nfrom view the facial contortions of a country \nchoir, permitting it to reveal itself only when all \nwas said and sung. \n\nThe first indication we have of class distinction \nin Concord is a record of an application made by \nMr. James Scales for the privilege of building a \n\n\n400 Old New England Churches \n\npew, and this he was permitted to do \" in the one- \nhalf of the hindermost seat at the west end of the \nmeeting house that is next the window.\" \n\nThe old men of the congregation sat apart in a \nplace provided for them at the base of the pulpit, \nand wore a sort of uniform — white linen caps in \nsummer and red woolen caps in winter. In Con- \ncord the Sabbath meeting was quite as much a \nsocial event as it was a spiritual indulgence. Bou- \nton's history describes how intimately the persons, \nnot only of Concord but of the outlying towns, \nknew each other. Here they met on a Sunday, \nconvening doubtless at the noon hour, when they \ngossiped together until the second service, ex- \nchanging news from all parts. The meeting house \nwas also a place where military orders were given \nand received. Captain Joseph Walker's cavalry \ncommand dwelt in Concord and its outlying vil- \nlages, and there on Sundays he transmitted to his \nmen orders when and where to meet, what to do, \nand how to do it. Down under a tree at the bot- \ntom of the hill, west of Richard Bradley's, history \nhas it that the boys and young men stopped to \nput on their shoes of a Sabbath, and the young \nwomen to put on clean white stockings after com- \ning from a distance and before entering the meet- \n\n\nFirst Church, Concord, N. H. 401 \n\ning house — not an aesthetic scene but a very \npicturesque one. The horse block on the west \nside of the meeting house served the women for \nmounting and dismounting from the piUions on \nwhich they rode behind their husbands, and \nthose who used the block paid for it at the rate \nof a pound of butter apiece. When the long- \nwished-for bell, which weighed twelve hundred \npounds, was finally put into the belfry, the whole \nvalley rejoiced, and the 3^ear after its acquisition \nit was ordered to be rung thrice a day for seven \nSundays — at seven o'clock, at noon, and at nine \nof the clock at night. \n\nConcord salaries were always magnificent. The \nfirst bellringer, Sherburn Wiggin, received twenty- \nfive dollars a year, and modem business methods \nprevailed, for he was required to give a bond for \nthe faithful performance of his duty. There was \none reversal, however, of present methods: val- \nuable offices were annually sold to the lowest \ninstead of to the highest bidder. The sexton's \nsalary increased sixty per cent, in eight years, \nwhich indicates a relatively fine increase in the \ntown's prosperity. The second house was en- \nlarged in 1828, many changes being made inside \nand the whole structure greatly improved. Then a \n\n\n402 Old New England Churches \n\nstrange thing happened. Though enlarged to \nmeet the pressing need of room it was found that \nalmost at once the congregation began to dimin- \nish. This was simply a coincidence, several other \nreligious societies having been formed which drew \nmany from that first church. The new and \nmightier structure seemed so bamlike and com- \nfortless that they built again in order to pro- \nvide themselves with a cosy house. Concord \npeople were able to build, to move in, to move \nout, and do pretty much as they pleased by rea- \nson of their opulence and uncomplicated way \nof thinking. A cheerful people met in the old \nhouse to say farewell before they moved into \nthe new. \n\nIn the second meeting [house all sorts of assem- \nblies were held that have had significance in state \nhistory. The convention which was to plan \nsome sort of government for New Hampshire \nmet there. The first legislature for Concord \nassembled in this house, and there also were held \nno less than fifteen sessions of the General \nCourt. The first legislature had to adjourn to \nanother building because the church was too cold, \nand one historian very neatly describes the sit- \nuation : \n\n\nFirst Church, Concord, N. H. 403 \n\n\"If in winter the cold in God's house was in- \ntense, they shrugged their shoulders, worked \ntheir toes, and, so far as they could, got carnal \nwarmth from the fervour of their devotions. \nBut it must have been very chilly for the ungodly \non such occasions. Tliat at the noon intermis- \nsion some have sought spiritual invigoration at \nHanaford's Tavern nearby, may have been in- \nexcusable, but it was not inconsistent with the \nnative depravity of that time.\" \n\nHowever, if the church was cold. Concord hos- \npitality was very warm indeed. There is a tradi- \ntion that Colonel Timothy Walker, a member of \nthe legislature at Concord, told other members \nwho were complaining of their boarding houses \n\n\"That if the General Assembly would hold its \nnext session at Concord they should be as well \naccommodated as at Exeter and for half the \nmoney. Thereupon the assembly adjourned to \nConcord.\" \n\nWhen Colonel Walker mentioned this at \nhome, the good folk of Concord opened their \nhouses, took in the members of the General Court, \nand must have been pretty satisfactory hosts, \nfor forty-four sessions of the General Court were \nheld there between that time and 18 16 when \nConcord became the state capital. \n\nWhen the stove was introduced into the Con- \n\n\n404 Old New England Churches \n\ncord meeting house there was even more excite- \nment and resistance than in other houses when \nthis extraordinary epoch in their history was \nreached. Indeed the opposition was so tremen- \ndous that the stove was introduced only on a com- \npromise— as a kind of sop to pubhc prejudice — \nsomething like that compromise which was made \nat Webster in 1832 — \"to dispense with the fire \nwithin the stove the first vSabbath in each month \nthrough the cold season.\" \n\nThe third meeting house was in 1842, and then \nin 1874 came the fourth. \n\nConcord had vicissitudes similar to those of the \nrest of New England; but, like most New Hamp- \nshire towns originally founded by work-a-day \nfolk in the interests of trade, an exercise of ex- \ncellent common sense adjusted its difficulties and \nminimised them before those of its neighbours. \nIn short, New Hampshire folk lived not by bread \nof the Gospel alone but went down to the sea in \nships, discreetly sold what they caught, invested \neconomically in religion as in other things, and \nprospered mightily. \n\n\nCHURCH OF CHRIST, HANOVER, N. H. \n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI \n\nChurch of Christ, Hanover, New Hampshire \n\nTHE Church of Christ at Dartmouth Col- \nlege\" was gathered at Hanover, New \nHampshire, by Eleazer Wheelock, founder and \nfirst president of Dartmouth College, January 23, \n1 77 1. The building is exceptional in being al- \nmost without picturesque history, in furnishing \nan extraordinary exhibition of ecclesiastical diffi- \nculty, and in having sent forth an amazing num- \nber of great men. It was literally a church in the \nwilderness, giving form, together with the college, \nto the purpose expressed in the motto signifi- \ncantly engraved on the college seal. Vox clamantis \nin deserto. \n\nThe twenty-seven persons with whom the church \nwas organised were members of Dr. Wheelock's \n\"family,\" that is, his wife and children, the stud- \nents of the college, and the labourers in his em- \nploy. These lived under his immediate con- \ntrol in the two buildings put up in the little clear- \ning of the pine forest which covered the college \n\nplain. There was a log \"hutt\" and a large rude \n\n407 \n\n\n4o8 Old New England Churches \n\nstructure for the students and labourers. The \nnearest neighbour could only be found at the end \nof a three-mile ride \"through one continuous and \ndreary wood.\" \n\nIn no other instance do we find a simultaneous \nbeginning of educational and ecclesiastical in- \nterests. Hanover church we may regard as the \nreligious side of the college, and the college Presi- \ndent was its minister till his death in April, 1779. \nThe college continued to furnish preachers to the \nchurch for many years. \n\nFrom the nature of the case it was from the \noutset without ecclesiastical affiliations, but as \ntime passed, and churches were organised in the \nneighbouring towns, Hanover church adopted the \nPresbyterian form of government and united with \nothers to form the \"Grafton Presbyter.\" Among \nthe early elders was Bezaleel Woodward, a trustee \nand professor in the college, prominent in public \naffairs, educational and political as well as re- \nligious. He was leader in the movement to es- \ntablish the state of New Connecticut, which it \nwas hoped would be made from the portions of \nNew Hampshire and Vermont, on either side of \nthe Connecticut River. The church flourished \ngreatly under its early pastors, though for \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Hanover, N. H. 409 \n\nmany years it had no house of its own, and \nhad to depend on the hospitaUty of the college. \nThe services were held in the college chapel, \nused also for the commencement exercises of \nthe college. For the latter it was too small, \nand as the college could not afford to erect a \nlarger building, a movement was started in 1775 \nby the residents of the village to build a \" meeting \nhouse,\" large enough for the ordinary Sabbath \nservices and for the greater gatherings at the \ncollege commencements. In that year there was \nbuilt a meeting house of the ordinary New En- \ngland pattern of that time, relieved only b}^ a \n\"belcony\" at one end, which rose in a spire, one \nhundred feet in height, surmounted by two gilt \nballs. Within could be found the high pulpit, \noverhung by a sounding board. There were gal- \nleries around three sides, of which the front seats \nin part were reserved for \"music\" and the whole \ninterior was painted white with a slight tint of \nblue. The building was guiltless of any means \nof heating, and in winter the breath of the wor- \nshippers often formed a cloud in front of the pulpit, \nso that fervency of devotion was the only source \nof warmth. The house was dedicated in Decem- \nber and immediately occupied, the proprietors \n\n\n4IO Old New England Churches \n\ntaking the pews on the floor and the students \nbeing assigned to the west gallery. The col- \nlegiate character of the congregation was thus \npreserved. A dispute arose not long after the \nerection of the building about its use by the col- \nlege, and consequently the president withdrew \nhis students to the chapel. They soon returned, \nand since then the building has been used con- \ntinuously as the place of worship for the college \nas well as for the public exercises of commence- \nment and other academic exhibitions. \n\nIn the course of the century the building has \nseveral times undergone repair and enlargement. \nThe first spire became unsafe, and was replaced \nin 1838 by a cupola which still stands. The \nchange in sacred music, first marked by the pass- \ning of the fugue, before the period of choral music, \nled to the substitution of the organ for the violin, \nbass viol, and trombone. In 1889 Mr. Stanford \nWhite finally turned this church into a building \nwhose dignity of proportion, chaste ornamenta- \ntion, and harmonious colouring make it one of the \nfinest representatives of colonial architecture in \nNew England. Its combination of plain exterior \nand simple artistic interior have given it the \nfitting title, the \"New England Cathedral.\" Mr. \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Hanover, N. H. 411 \n\nHiram Hitchcock's generosity made this excellent \nresult possible. \n\nThere the successive generations of Dartmouth \nstudents have received the instruction and in- \nfluence connected with the services of the church. \nAttendance upon the Sabbath services was in the \nbeginning compulsory, and for two-thirds of a \ncentury the students came together for worship \ntwice each Sunday. Afterward for twenty-five \nyears they had to attend but one service, and com- \npulsory attendance was finally given up. The \nbuilding is still the home of the college church, \nbut it invites, does not compel, the presence of the \nstudents, and the congregation has not shrunk \nin consequence. \n\nAmong those who have been not merely wor- \nshippers within the walls of the college church \nbut members of the organisation, are many whose \nnames have been prominent in educational and \nreligious leadership. A large company of mis- \nsionaries went out from the church headed by \nMason Goodell, who translated the Bible into \nArmeno-Turkish, and Daniel Temple of the same \ncollege class, an author and publisher of Christian \nliterature in the Orient. Divinity and education \nare represented by such men as Francis Bro^Mi, \n\n\n412 Old New England Churches \n\nPresident of Dartmouth during its great contro- \nversy with the state, Zephaniah Swift Moore, \nPresident of both WilUams and Amherst Colleges, \nJohn Torrey, John Wheeler, and James Marsh, all \nPresidents of the University of Vermont, Charles \nA. Aiken, President of Union College, and a host \nof others prominent as presidents, professors, and \neducators. Among the living it will be enough \nto mention Francis Brown, grandson of the one \nabove mentioned, biblical scholar and professor \nin Union Theological Seminary, and Francis E. \nClark, founder of the Christian Endeavour Society. \nAt the college anniversaries held in the building, \nmany men of promise and of note have been pres- \nent. In 1 80 1 Daniel Webster delivered here his \ngraduation speech, and his subject was not the \nliterary or forensic theme expected: he spoke of \nthe discoveries of Lavoisier in chemistry. At \nthat time this was news, not history. Here also \nRufus Choate spoke at his graduation in 1820; \nand Salmon P. Chase at his graduation discussed \n\"Literary Curiosity.\" At other times large audi- \nences have listened to Edward Everett, to Ralph \nWaldo Emerson, to William M. Evarts com- \nmemorating Chief Justice Chase, to Rufus Choate, \nin his maturity, delivering his eulogy on Daniel \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Hanover, N. H. 413 \n\nWebster, to Senator T. F. Bayard on -bhe same \ntheme, and so late as 1901, at the centenary of \nthe graduation of Daniel Webster, to Congress- \nman McCall, recalling the services and the charac- \nter of the great statesman. Few buildings out- \nside the centre of population, and few within them, \nhave witnessed so many gatherings of so many \nnotable men. \n\nThe Church of Christ at Dartmouth College as \na religious organisation has had an eventful his- \ntory. The Grafton Presbytery to which it be- \nlonged became extinct before 1800 by the gradual \nwithdrawal of its members to adopt the Congre- \ngational form. The church at Hanover, however, \nmade no change, so that it was for several years \nthe sole remnant of Presbyterianism. This \nsteadfastness was not so much the result of a set \npurpose on the part of its members, — for the \nchange of polity by its neighbours was not without \nits influence, — as of the relations of the church to \nthe College, whose President, John Wheelock, son \nof the founder, held to the Presbyterian form. The \nposition of the College determined that of the \nchurch. A professor in the one being the pastor \nof the other, his college duties took precedence of \nhis church relations, and the members of the \n\n\n414 Old New England Churches \n\nchurch resident in the village, though in the major- \nity, occupied a secondary position. They were \nnot sufficient in numbers or in resources to organise \na separate church, and readily accepted what \ncame through their association with the College. \nThe College elected a professor of divinity to \npreach to the students, and the church could only \naccept the choice, with the implied control of its af- \nfairs. This relation continued without much fric- \ntion until 1804, when Roswell Shurtleff was elected \nProfessor' of Divinity, with the expectation that \nhe would become pastor of the church in place of \nProfessor Smith, who had for some time wished \nto withdraw. Mr. Shurtleff was acceptable to \nthe students and to the members of the church, \nbut President Wheelock, for personal reasons, de- \nsired to have him only as colleague to Professor \nSmith, whom he wished to retain as pastor. Out \nof this grew a bitter and protracted controversy, \nresulting in a division of the church and \nindirectly in the famous controversy between \nthe State of New Hampshire and Dartmouth \nCollege. \n\nIn the early days of this church many persons \njoined it who lived across the Connecticut in the \nadjoining towns of Norwich and Hartford, Ver- \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Hanover, N. H. 415 \n\nmont. On the formation of a church in Norwich \nthe members resident in Hanover transferred \ntheir connection to it, but those in Hartford still \nretained their connection at Hanover though \nthey had withdrawn from all participation in \nthe affairs of the church and from attendance \nupon the services. They went so far as to build \nthemselves a separate house of worship, and, with- \nout reference to the Hanover members, issued a \ncall to a minister. President Wheelock who \nhad great influence with them, owing to services \nhe had rendered, persuaded them to assert their \nright to vote at Hanover, and a meeting was called \nto consider Mr. Shurtleff's relation to the church. \nBy a bare majority they voted to ask him to be \ncolleague with Prof. Smith and not sole pastor. \nThis proposition was utterly distasteful to the \nHanover members, except three of four, and they \nresolutely determined not to allow a situation to \nbe thn^ist upon them by those who had no interest \nin it. Long negotiations followed between the \nparties, and when no agreement could be reached \nthe Hanover members proposed the calling of a \ngeneral council for advice. This was refused by \nthe other side and after all means had been tried \nwithout success the Hanover members called an \n\n\n41 6 Old New England Churches \n\nex parte council, before which they laid their case, \nthe other side also appearing. As a result they \nwere organised into a new church on July 2, 1805, \nunder the title of \"The Congregational Church \nat Dartmouth College,\" while the Hartford mem- \nbers still kept the title of \"Church of Christ at \nDartmouth College,\" though they lived, with \nfew exceptions, in another town and state and had \nnothing whatever to do with the college. \n\nThis outcome was so unsatisfactory that before \na year was out the new church again proposed \na council to see if some means of union could be \ndevised. After mjich discussion a council was \nagreed on and it met in 1806. It recommended a \nplan of union for the two churches, retaining the \nPresbyterian form, which was accepted by both, \nbut the old church modified its form of accep- \ntance so as to make it ineffective, and in fact \nnever followed its directions. The new church \nvainly attempted to live up to them and after \nfour years, acting on the advice of the Orange \nAssociation, it resumed its independent state under \nthe Congregational form, which it has retained to \nthe present day. The old church, which also \nchanged to the Congregational form at a later day, \nbecame extinct in 1844, leaving the Hanover \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Hanover, N. H. 417 \n\noffshoot as the representative of the original \nchurch. \n\nBut the quarrel in the church passed to a wider \nsphere, for President Wheelock attempted to \nmake the Trustees of the College a party to it, \nand, failing in this, became so embittered that he \nappealed to the state legislature, making charges \nof malfeasance against the Trustees. The acts \nof the legislature which resulted from his appeal \nchanged the charter of the College and led to the \nfamous Dartmouth College case, which, carried \nthrough the state courts with the aid of Jeremiah \nSmith, Jeremiah Mason, and Daniel Webster, was \ntaken to the Supreme Court at Washington. \nPleaded there by Joseph Hopkinson and Daniel \nWebster it gave the latter an opportunity for \nmaking the greatest forensic argument in the \nannals of the American Bar, which resulted in the \ndecision delivered by Chief Justice Marshall, \nestablishing securely the foundation of eleemosy- \nnary institutions, through the inviolability of \ncontracts. \n\nThe church continued under the care of Pro- \nfessor Shurtleff till 1828, and since that time it \nhas been fortunate in the permanency of its pas- \ntorates. For several years there were frequent \n\n\n4i8 Old New England Churches \n\nchanges, but in 1841 Rev. John Richards, D. D., \ncame to its pulpit, which he occupied eighteen \nyears till his death in 1861 when he was succeeded \nby Rev. S. P. Leeds, D. D., who remained as \npastor of the church for forty years, a longer period \nof service in a college pulpit than that of any other \nman who has held such a position in New England. \nFor years there was in connection with the pas- \ntorate a board of college preachers, but this was \ngiven up when compulsory attendance by the stu- \ndents was abandoned; and the church is now \nunder the pastoral care of Rev. A. W. Vernon. \nIn 1905, on the completion of a century since its \norganisation as an offshoot of the original church, \nit adopted the name chosen at the beginning, and \nit is again the \" Church of Christ at Dartmouth \nCollege.\" \n\nIt has always been known as the \"College \nChurch,\" but the early connection by which the \nprofessor of divinity was the pastor of the church \ncame to an end on the retirement of Professor Shurt- \nleff. By that time the church felt strong enough \nto support its own minister, though not without \nfinancial help from the college, which has always \nbeen generously given, and in 1831 it settled by \nits own choice on the Rev. Robert Page. Since his \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Hanover, N. H. 419 \n\ntime the pastors of the church have had no official \nrelation to the college till in 1904 the Rev. Mr. \nVernon was elected Professor of Biblical Liter- \nature at the same time that* he was elected to the \npastorate of the church, and with the help of an \nassistant pastor, he performs the duties of both \noffices. \n\nBesides the ordinary growth of the church \nmany revivals have marked its history. In 18 15 \nand 182 1 there were» notable movements by which \nforty or more members were added to the church \neach year. Again in 1858, 1875, 1879 and 1885 \nthere were many additions. The present mem- \nbership is 242, and the total number borne on the \nroll since organisation is 899. \n\n\nCHURCH OF CHRIST, BENNINGTON, \n\nVT. \n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII \nChurch of Christ, Bennington, Vermont \n\nTHE ecclesiastical history of Vermont is \nnecessarily of a more robust sort than \nthat to be found elsewhere in New England. \nThe Green Mountain State had its beginnings \nduring political dissensions and coming war, and \nthe spirit of the time could not have resulted in \nanything more forceful and virile than the con- \nditions— even ecclesiastical conditions — which \nwe find. The church history of Bennington \ngiven here will necessarily be largely anecdotal, \nand a good deal of the anecdote may seem rather \nstrenuous; but the men of Vermont were stren- \nuous, and the reminiscences which are directly \nlinked with the church seem precisely to reflect \nthe men and the hour. \n\nWhen a handful of imperfectly armed men can \nwalk up to a fort full of properly equipped if im- \nproperly drunken soldiers and capture the outfit \nwith recourse to nothing mightier than a dozen \njudiciously assembled words from the English \n\nlanguage we are justified in saying that those men \n\n433 \n\n\n424 Old New England Churches \n\nstand first in importance at roll call. Whether \nthe British did surrender \"in the name of the Great \nJehovah and the Continental Congress\" or whether \nthese words are as apocryphal as William Tell, it \nlittle matters. The legendary story of that sur- \nrender may be bad fact but if so, then it is the \nfinest piece of fiction in the world, and perfectly \npresents the spirit of the surrender. Benning- \nton's secular history began in some such way as \nthat. \n\nBennington's ecclesiastical history stood first in \nthe territory that was called Vermont. Secular \naffairs at the crisis-chapter of Bennington history \n— that tim when Ethan Allen marched across the \npage — were made up of things which had become \nto the Green Mountain State a religion; namely \nresistance, patriotism, and fight! Meeting house \nhistory in Bennington began a good while before \nthis Revolutionary history, but as one reads he \nis inclined to believe that unconsciously Vermont \nwas ^getting ready all of the time. The moment \ndoes not find the man unless the man is there \nwaiting for the moment. All the world waited \nbut it was given to Bennington to have the man \nin its midst. \n\nFor thirteen years the township remained an \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Bennington, Vt. 425 \n\nunbroken wilderness. From the beginning, how- \never, the town's name was fixed: it bore that \nof the governor of New Hampshire. Event- \nually, the place was settled by accident. Cap- \ntain Samuel Robinson passed that way after \na campaign against the French, got lost, liked \nthe country he found himself in — which was \nafterward to become Bennington — and de- \ntermined if he ever found Massachusetts again \nhe would return with enough people to settle the \ncountry. He fulfilled his intention, and Benning- \nton first existed as an active corporation when a \nproprietor's meeting was held on February 11, \n1762. Benjamin Harwood inaugurated the gather- \ning of the first census by being bom the following \nJanuary. \n\nAt the first \"proprietor's meeting\" they chose \nDeacon Joseph Safford, Esq., Samuel Robinson, \nJohn Fassett, Ebenezer Wood, Elisha Field, John \nBumam, and Abraham Newton a committee to \nlook out a place to set the new meeting house. \nThe men fixed upon the northeast comer of the \nright of land No. 27. The meeting house placed, \nall other improvements radiated therefrom — \nnew roads, new buildings, and the like. It was \nvoted that \"the road from the meeting house to \n\n\n426 Old New England Churches \n\nSamuel Safford's will be the main road, and shall \nbe four rods wide.\" The lands of Bennington \nwere taxed to build the meeting house. A tax of \nsix dollars on each right of land was levied, but \nthe sum secured thus seems not to have sufficed, \nas those who gave were summoned to convene \nto see if they would not make a further \nsubscription. The house had no steeple \nand it had a second story, or perhaps an attic, \nwhich served as a schoolroom for a good many \nyears. There were square pews in the house and \nthey bore little railings on top, composed of small \nbalusters not always firmly set, and little fingers \nused to work tentatively at these rounds of wood, \nfinding out which were loose, thus beguiling the \nlong, tedious prayer and sermon hours. Certain \nit is that the babies played, and likely the older \nfry amused itself too, for on March 22, 1777, the \nRevolutionary War was suspended long enough \nfor Bennington to vote that \"such persons as do \ncontinue playing in the meeting house on the \nLord's-day, or in the worship of God, be com- \nplained of to the committee of safety of the town, \nwho are hereby authorised to fine them discretion- \nally.\" \n\nThe meeting house served for town-house as \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Bennington, Vt. 427 \n\nwell, and it was in this first house that the people \ngave thanks for their success at Ticonderoga — \nEthan Allen coming home to take his part in the \nmeeting. The Rev. Mr. Dewey, a few months \nlater, preached war on the Sunday before the \nbattle of Bennington, and afterward the Hessians \nand other prisoners were housed in the meeting \nhouse for safe keeping. There was a good deal \nthat was humourous in a grim way in that excit- \ning time. When these captives of the battle were \nmarching sadly toward the church they had to \npass the Catamount Tavern — a specimen of fine \ntruculent nomenclature — and as they passed the \nlandlord came out. With much impressiveness he \ninvited the prisoners in to dinner as it was quite \nready, having been haughtily ordered the day \nbefore by the British officers who expected to \narrive after the battle, under somewhat different \nauspices. \n\nThe first legislature of Vermont assembled in \nthe first meeting house, as did many subsequent \nlegislatures. \n\nIt was probably to that first Sunday after Ticon- \nderoga that the legend of Allen's promptitude in \nclaiming his own, belongs. Tovm histor>' has it \nthat a long Thanksgiving prayer in which the \n\n\n42 8 Old New England Churches \n\npreacher was giving God all the glory of the \nTiconderoga victory, was interrupted by Allen \nshouting out, \" Parson Dewey, Parson Dewey, \nParson Dewey! \"and on the third count Dewey \nwas compelled to pause and open his eyes. Then \nsaid Allen, \"Please mention to the Lord about \nmy being there!\" \n\nA famous murder trial was held in this first \nmeeting house since it was also the court house; \nand Pierrepoint Edwards came from New Haven \nto serve successfully for the defence. \n\nThere were certain interesting conditions relat- \ning to Bennington settlement which reflect ways, \nand means. For instance it was determined \nby the original settler. Captain Robinson, that \nthose who were Congregationalists should be per- \nmitted to live on the Hill, but those of any other \ndenomination must buy their land and settle in \nsome other part of the township. Hence Cap- \ntain Robinson's formula, \"To what denomination \ndo you belong, my friend ? \" When this question \nwas one day launched at a man who came to buy \n\nsome land, he inquired, \" What in h has that \n\nto do with you?\" — The man didn't acquire the \n\"Hill\" property! \n\nThis Church of Christ in Bennington which \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Bennington, Vt. 429 \n\nexisted in 1762 was the result of a coalition be- \ntween the Bennington and Westfield churches, \nthe pastor of the latter becoming the pastor of \nthe united people. Each church joined the other \n\" with uplifted hands before God,\" and this marked \na new growth in the land. The covenant of the \nchurch seems to have met with vicissitudes. \nIt certainly was lost, and was found among \nsome papers that were thrown into the street. \nIt was mutilated and about one-third of the sig- \nnatures were on the missing portion. \n\nPerhaps the most profound anxiety on the part \nof that early church was how to pay the minister. \nHe was to receive fifty pounds during the first \nyear. Not only the members of the church but \nthe whole congregation contributed to this, and \ncollectors were chosen to get together the money; \nbut to collect the preacher's salary was a matter \nof high finance, even of statesmanship, in those \ndays. At one time it was the duty of the colonial \npreacher to collect his own salary, and as it was \ndribbled out to him by the people it was necessary \nfor him to go visiting each week in order to exist \nat all. This made him naturally detested, and \nhe might well have been called the town beggar. \nEven after the matter of salary was negotiated \n\n\n430 Old New England Churches \n\nby assessment, he was oftener without it than \nnot. In one New England parish the preacher's \nsalary being forever in arrears, he was compelled \nat last to b;-ing suit against the town. When the \ncase was up for consideration the parish spokes- \nman asked, \"Well, what do you want now? If \nwe haven't paid up, we gave you the improve- \nment of the island and about thirty acres of land \nbesides. Isn't that enough without asking for \nyour salary?\" \n\n\"Yes,\" answered the preacher, \"you did give \nme the island. I have mowed it and I don't \nwant a better fence around my cornfield than one \nwinrow of the fodder it cuts. If you should mow \nthat island you speak of with a razor and rake it \nwith a comb, you wouldn't get enough from it to \nwinter a grasshopper.\" \n\nThe preacher got nothing after thirty-six years' \nof work for the parish, and at last his persistence \nso disturbed these godly folk that it was \"voted \nthet ther meting hous shuld be shot up so that \nno parson shuld open the same so that Mr. John \nRobrson of Duxborrough may not get into the \nmeting hous to preach annay more without orders \nfrom the towne.\" To survive such hardships \nrequired the spirit of a Fenelon who asked \" little \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Bennington, Vt. 431 \n\nfrom men,\" tried to \"render them much and ex- \npect nothing in return,\" \n\nThis matter of preacher's salaiy was like to \nhave been Bennington's Waterloo, but doubtless \nits own battle did much to heal ecclesiastical \nbreaches: if the colonists disagreed under many \ncreeds yet they all fought under one flag. These \ndisagreements in the church interrupted and \nindefinitely postponed infant baptism. They al- \ntogether disorganised the town and congregation, \nand it was not until after 1780 when the preacher's \nsalary was fixed, that the many dissensions in the \nchurch ceased. Other troubles followed. One \nof their ministers Mr. Avery, brought a slave into \nthe town and insisted upon his right to hold her. \nThere was small toleration of slavery in Vermont, \nand Bennington did not agree with its pastor. \nOne member of the church had to be placed under \ndiscipline \"for withdrawing himself from its com- \nmunion upon its affirming that it would commune \nwith a brother who might have a slave.\" In all \nprobability this man's action represented the \nmajority of sentiment in Vermont, but it was not \nchurch policy to permit so striking a resistance \non the part of its people, and the disciplinary \nmeasure of excommunication followed. We have \n\n\n432 Old New England Churches \n\na fail concensus of Vermont opinion in the fol- \nlowing document: \n\n\"Headquarters Paulet, Nov., 28, 1779. To \nwhom it may concern, know thee: whereas, \nDinah Mattis, a negro woman, with Nancy, her \nchild of two months old, was taken prisoner on \nLake Champlain with the British troops some- \nwhere near Colonel Gilliner's garden, the twelfth \nday of inst. November, by a scout under my com- \nmand, and, according to a resolve passed by the \nHonorable Continental Congress, that all prizes \nbelong to the captivators thereof, therefore she and \nher child became the just property of the capti- \nvators thereof, I being comprehentious that it is \nnot right in the sight of God to keep slaves ; there- \nfore obtaining leave of the detachment under my \ncommand to give her and her child their freedom ; \nI do therefore give the said Dinah Mattis, and her \nchild, their freedom to pass and repass anywhere \nthrough the United States of America, with her \nbehaving as becometh, and to trade and traffic \nfor herself and her child as though she were free \nbom, without being molested by any person or \npersons. In witness whereunto I have set my \nhand and subscribed my name. \n\n'\"(Signed)' Ebenezer Allen. \n\n\"Captain in Herrick's Regiment of Green \nMountain Boys.\" \n\nPerhaps in no region do we find such emphatic \nindividual characteristics as we do in Vermont. \nThese were necessarily the cause of a good deal \n\n\nChurch of Christ, Bennington, Vt. 433 \n\nof disagreement and irritation two hundred years \nbefore the comers were rounded off, but under- \nneath that aggressive individuaHsm lived the \nhardy sentiment which conceded to each man his \nright to think and to act altogether as he pleased \nif he did not interfere with any one else's to do \nthe same. We seem to have at this time in \nVermont a nearer approach to Mill's notion of \ngovernment than in any other place in New \nEngland: law, for the purpose of giving every- \nbody the greatest possible liberty, and protect- \ning individual liberty first of all! \n\nWhen the government chose Bennington as a \ndepot for public stores, it chose discreetly, as was \nproved when Burgoyne came to rob it. \n\nIn time the influence of Whitefield was felt in \nBennington, and what was considered to be a \nspiritual regeneration began in the old meeting- \nhouse, but that proving inadequate to hold \nthe people, a three days' meeting was held in the \nopen air. Of the many anecdotes recorded, there \nis certainly one, prophetic in spirit of the lineal \nBennington hero who made that anecdote of \nManila possible in 1898. When the Rev. Mr. \nDewey began life he learned the trade of carpenter, \nand when he took to preaching, he found his \n\n\n434 Old New England Churches \n\nexperience useful. When the first meeting house \nwas being raised there was a lack of men at the \nwork. Mr. Dewey who was standing near — \npossibly consecrating the deed with prayer — \ncame forward and said to the builder, '\"Do you \ntake a pole and help lift with the men, and I will \ngive the word of command.' The builder com- \nplied. At that instant two men came riding up \non horseback from the south. They dismounted \nand also grasped the poles. Mr. Dewey gave the \nword of command and the side of the frame went \nup forthwith to its perpendicular position, was \nfastened, and the raising of ths building was com- \npleted without further delay. He also builded or \nsuperintended the building of the house in which \nhe resided.\" — We find the Deweys in command \neven back there in seventeen-something. \n\nThere are enough humourous anecdotes loose in \nVermont, to lighten the gravity even of the Puri- \ntan faith. \n\n\nFIRST CHURCH, NEWBURY, VT. \n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII \n\nFirst Church, Newbury, Vermont \n\nIN NEWBURY the tithing men were a sort \nof local police. The name is of Anglo-Saxon \norigin, * ' tithing\" meaning parish. In New England \nthe duty was by no means confined to eccle- \nsiastical supervision. \n\nTithing men in Newbury were recognised \nmore nearly according to their original func- \ntion in Old England, and instead of being \nchosen by the selectmen, as they were in \nMassachusetts and elsewhere, their office came \nby town appointment. There must have \nbeen a period of degeneracy among the people of \nthis region, for upon the occasion of electing a \npreacher to the office of hog constable, known as \n\"hog-reeve,\" he thanked his fellow- townsmen \nfor the honour, and declared the nomination to \nbe appropriate; \"for I came among you as a shep- \nherd among his flock, but if you have so far de- \ngenerated as to become a herd of swine, it is fitting \nthat I should be hog constable.\" The Reverend \nWit was let off. Concerning this office there is an \n\n437 \n\n\n438 Old New England Churches \n\nanecdote related of one of Newbury' sown preachers, \nDr. Calvin Jewett. He was moderator of the \ntown meeting, and when the choice of a hog \nconstable came under consideration, a good many \npeople who seemed about to be offered the nomi- \nnation, were prepared to decline it. The public- \nspirited preacher lectured the meeting upon its \nlack of conscientiousness, pointing out that the \nofhce was one of much importance, it was neces- \nsary that it should be filled, and it was an honour \nno good citizen could afford to forego. Imme- \ndiately the good Doctor was elected hog con- \nstable. He regarded it more or less as a joke and \nwent home, but the jest took on tragic proportions \nwhen he was awakened at midnight by some of \nhis neighbours who counselled him that since the \noffice was so important, it was certainly neces- \nsary that there be no vacancy, and that they had \nbrought a justice of the peace with them to swear \nthe preacher in. \n\nThe history of that first meeting house in New- \nbury is clouded, if not inchoate. We know that \nit was the orthodox log cabin and 28 by 25 feet \nin dimension. The people of Newbury tired of \nit and wanted \"to see where the town will agree \nto meet on the Sabbath the spring and summer \n\n\nCourtesy of W. C. Prentiss, Newbury, Vt. \nFIRST CHURCH. XEWBURY, VERMONT \n\nThe church whose Thanksginng Day was delayed because there was no molasses in the parish \n\n\nFirst Church, Newbury, Vt. 439 \n\nensuing,\" from which we infer that they did not \nintend to meet in the old house. But in 1771 the \ntown had done nothing and the church-going folk \nagain asked \"if it will do anything to the meet- \ning house.\" There is some record that during the \nyear there was the frame of a meeting house put \nup on the Little Plain, but the geographical sit- \nuation did not please the people, and it was taken \ndown to be put again on the Ox-bow. In 1773 \nthere was a town vote \" to finish the meeting house \nthat is now raised, the owners giving in what is \ndone, \" and \" that the notes that were given to \nbuild a meeting house be given up, Captain Hazen \ngiving him a bond which Haverhill took of New- \nbury for building the same.\" There is no account \nof any special action being taken in the matter. \nA term of the Court of Common Pleas met at \nRobert Johnston's Inn and on the third day there \nwas an adjournment to inspect \"the building \nintended for a court house and jail in this town- \nship.\" The Court was pleased, apparently, and \nappropriated more money to finish the building, \ndirecting that the workmen were \"not to be over \nnice in doing it.\" In this we have meeting house \nhistory, because the court house and the meeting \nhouse were the same, judging by later records. \n\n\n440 Old New England Churches \n\nThe structure was called indifferently the state \nhouse, the court house, and the meeting house. \nThere was a meeting house developed by piety \nalone somewhere about 1776. At that date it \nhad been some time in building and was probably \nunfinished, for the town voted \" to build pews and \nseats in the meeting house on the vacant ground.\" \nThis building may also have been used as town \nhouse, but it is difficult to get details. At any rate \nit was used for worship for about fifteen years, by \nwhich time the structure called the old meeting \nhouse was built. This was in 1788, and in \nlooking over records one grows optimistic \nand is about to believe that a Newbury meeting \nhouse pure and simple is reached, till one finds \nthat the legislature met here for the October \nsession, 1787. \n\nThis meeting house was not without its anec- \ndotes, indeed the whole meeting house history of \nNewbury seems largely anecdotal. The house \nitself was a sort of anecdote. Certainly it was \nmore of a happen-stance than a circumstance. In \nthat early house the men were seated on one side, \nthe women on the other. One Sunday when Mr. \nPowers was preaching he became greatly disturbed \nby much whispering in the house, and he ceased his \n\n\nFirst Church, Newbury, Vt. 44 1 \n\nsermon to rebuke the brethren for this unseemliness. \nA deacon arose and told the Reverend Mr. Powers \nthat the men were not whispering, that the dis- \nturbance came from the women's side, where- \nupon Mr. Powers perceiving the impotence of \ncensure remarked \" then it is of no use for me to \nsay anything.\" \n\nAbout 1798, when the inhabitants became \ndesperate, we find included in the \"warnings\" \nfor the town meeting in March the following: \" to \nsee if the town will repair the old meeting house, \nso that it may be of some advantage to the in- \nhabitants and take some method to do the same.\" \nAn agent was appointed to look after this matter, \nbut he could not have been very happy over the \nappointment because he was sharply limited to \nthe expenditure of fifteen dollars. Probably he \ngave it up for we read that nothing happened, \nand after a time the house was pulled down. \n\nThat Vermonters were gastronomes there can \nbe no doubt as even their church history bears \nwitness: the pumpkin pie delayed the celebration \nof Thanksgiving a great many weeks on one oc- \ncasion. The Thanksgiving proclamation had not \nreached Newbury until after the day appointed \nfor it. but the people determined to celebrate. In \n\n\n442 Old New England Churches \n\ntaking stock it was discovered that there was no \nmolasses in town, whereupon a local proclamation \nwas issued for the postponement of Thanksgiving \nuntil the arrival of the molasses which was ex- \npected from Charlestown. All Newbury was on \nthe qui vive. Days came and went but not the \nmolasses consignment. What was to be done? \nGive thanks without pumpkin pie? Never! \nWithout pumpkin pie why Thanksgiving? As \nweeks passed melancholy settled upon Newbury, \nbut in course of time they gave thanks. We do \nnot know what they did when the molasses \nfinally arrived. Perhaps they gave thanks the \nsecond time. \n\nPeople came from long distances and many \nvillages, to convene at this church in Newbury. \nWomen living on the other side of the Wells \nRiver took off their shoes and stockings and \ncarried their children across the ford on their \nbacks. This was hardly an energy inspired by \nspiritual necessity but rather by social inclination. \nThe isolation of those days was awful. The \nsocial uses of the meeting house were notable \nand cherished. \n\n\nDate Due \n\n\nBW4200.B127 \n\nOld New England churches and their \n\nPrinceton Theological Semtnary-Speer Ubrary \n\n\n1 1012 00017 2470 \n\n\nilllttltlltDtl \n\n\ni \n\n\n","title":"Old New England churches and their children","updated_at":"2026-09-05T09:58:31.559161Z","urn":"urn:lemay:boston:document:old-new-england-churches-and-their-children","version":1,"withdrawn_reason":null},"urn":"urn:lemay:boston:document:old-new-england-churches-and-their-children","version_history":[{"change_note":"accessioned from the Internet Archive, item oldnewenglandchu00baco","changed_by":"archive-ingest 0.1.0","recorded_at":"2026-09-05T09:58:31.856291Z","version":1}]}