USA > Connecticut > Tercentenary pamphlet series, v. 1 Connecticut and the British Government > Part 39
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pal church of Boston, the antecedent of the famous King's Chapel, was built for the Royal Governor be- tween 1687 and 1689, and though furnished with some- thing which might be called a steeple, a tower, and a chancel, and so far following the ecclesiastical type, was ugly enough to match any of the ugliest churches of the Puritans, and effectually to redeem the Puritan principles and tastes from any special responsibility for the de- fective architecture of the times. This building was succeeded in 1749 by the well known King's Chapel, which still survives, and is at once admirable for its architectural interest and memorable for its theological and ecclesiastical history. It is to be regretted that the steeple which was to stand upon its solid tower was never completed. Its peristyle was not added till 1790. Long may it stand, with Christ Church and the Old South, in its simple and massive dignity, tempered with reverend grace.
But the most important advance in the history, or rather in the evolution, of the New England meeting house was the erection of the Old South Church in Boston in 1729-1730. I would not dare to affirm that this was the first of its kind, but it certainly may be taken as the typical model of the New England meeting house for nearly a century. It has a spire upon a tower rising from the ground, with a porch at the opposite end, and the pulpit upon the longest side. This church was furnished with two galleries, as was true of a few other churches of the last century, e. g., those in Milford and Guilford, in Connecticut, these being very populous towns, and others in Massachusetts. The Old South was finished in 1730. There are several churches besides this which still survive which are substantially like it, though finished with different degrees of elegance and expensive-
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ness. I should conjecture that this church set the fashion of the New England meeting house for nearly a century, during the period when New England began to be con- scious of an independent and an individual life. Very many have, within the writer's recollection, given way to those of more modern type. Among the best of those which survive are the meeting houses in Wethersfield and Farmington, Conn., the first of which was commenced in 1760 and the second in 1771. The first is 80 feet by 52, and the second is 75 by 50, exclusive of porch at one end and steeple at the other. With the present century, and the advance of wealth and culture which followed our establishment as an independent nation, the New Eng- land meeting house assumed another form, conforming more nearly to the churchly style of London architecture. Of this we have admirable specimens in Park street church, Boston, in the two edifices on the New Haven green, and those in Guilford, Springfield, and many others. A fine example in Northampton, Mass., was un- fortunately destroyed by fire a few years since.
The first steeple in Connecticut was erected in Guilford in 1726, and attached to the meeting house previously built in 1712, which was 68 feet long and 46 feet wide. It was expressly voted that "the belfry and spire of the meeting house shall be built in the fashion and proportion of the church at Newport, Rhode Island." The church re- ferred to is doubtless Trinity Church, which is still stand- ing, and retains the organ given to it by Bishop Berkeley about 1730.
Having followed the growth, or, in modern phrase, the evolution of the New England meeting house in its form without and within, we should give a word to its interior. This was originally bare and unattractive enough. Build- ing stuff in the rough was abundant, but boards that
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were sawn were not easily procured. Bricks were scarce and expensive, and lime for plastering must have come ยท from remote situations, or from shell-fish out of the sea. Many of the chimneys of the dwelling houses of the third and fourth generations were of rough stone, laid up chiefly in clay, and of such not a few are standing in the oldest dwellings to this day. Pews were not provided at first, even for the governor or his deputy, although their seats of honor were properly dignified by position and formal designation. Now and then, in the earlier part of the second century, a vote authorizes some worshipful gentleman or his lady, to construct a pew at his or her expense. It was a great step in luxury and dignity which made high and square pews universal, and a great step for convenience and edification when they were finally abandoned. It deserves to be recorded also that, in Mas- sachusetts very generally, and the parts of other New England States which were affiliated with Massachusetts, the pews were made more airy and elegant by open panels, variously ornamented with open work. Through these openings the younger worshipers could communicate with one another during the long sermons. They were also provided with movable seats, which were turned up for the convenience of the worshipers who sought support as they reverently stood during the long prayer, the con- clusion of which was noisily signalized by a most irrever- ent din, which was more or less aggravated by the ad- ditional emphasis with which the boys would contrive to express their Amen.
The meeting house of New England was never lighted, except by the sun, until singing schools made it necessary to introduce candles and rude chandeliers. Night meet- ings in the meeting house were considered highly inde- corous and questionable even by the most zealous. No
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firing was provided for. Stoves were utterly unknown, and open fireplaces were not to be thought of. Even the rude and dangerous devices, which afterwards were ma- tured into the not uncomfortable foot-stoves, were at first unknown. The New England meeting house was never warmed by artificial heat till from 1810 to 1820. Of a cold winter morning the breath of the worshipers not unfrequently would seem like smoke from a hundred furnaces as it came in contact with the frosty atmosphere. The walls which had been almost congealed into ice by the fierce northwesters of the preceding week, would strike a chill of death into the frame of many of the con- gregation. That they should come to such a place as this, on a snowy morning, plowing through unswept walks, and plunging through fearful drifts-man, woman and child-and sit with half frozen feet under long discourses on knotty doctrines, makes us shiver as we think of it, and say from the heart, "herein is the patience of the saints." And yet the writer's memory can distinctly recall the observation and experience of scenes like these. The experience was not so cruel as it might seem. Manifold devices against the cold were provided. Some that are now deemed indispensable were not needed. The free- handed and open-hearted hospitality of the houses near the meeting house was freely proffered and as readily accepted. Enormous kitchen fires were expressly re- plenished for Sunday uses, before which scores of wor- shipers, from a distance, warmed their persons and ate their luncheons, and at which they replenished their foot- stoves. The merchant, the innkeeper, the squire, the doc- tor, the retired money-lender, the wealthy widow or Lady Bountiful who lived near the meeting house, all esteemed it their duty and their pleasure to manifest this reasonable hospitality. Slight and natural as it was, it helped to
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bind and hold together the little community by the ties of common sympathy. At summer noons the farmers would gather in knots together on the sunny or shady side of the hospitable old meeting house, and the women would huddle into knots within the circle of some friendly pew, and tell the news of neighbors and relatives far and near, sometimes, but not always, observing the rigid ethics concerning Sabbatic observance which were taught from the pulpit, but always decent and reverent in voice and demeanor. To provide against all contingencies, adjoining. neighbors from a distance would sometimes erect a plain structure upon the meeting house green-a Sabbath-day house, so called-of one or two apartments, with ample fireplaces, which relieved somewhat the draft upon the often overburdened hospitality of those who dwelt under the droppings of the sanctuary. These structures have nearly all disappeared with the occasion which brought them into being. Now and then the remains of one are identified by some village antiquary, as applied to some baser use-of stable or granary.
In speaking of the meeting house as a material struc- ture, we have anticipated its relation to the social organi- zation in which it held the most prominent place.
We notice, first, that the meeting house was the central building in the village and the town. To this, as the most important edifice, was assigned the most conspicuous and honorable situation within or fronting the meeting house green, which was the general gathering place for military musters and every other outdoor assemblage of the parish or town. The post office and village inn were always near it, with the stocks and the whipping post; often one or two of the most important shops-the office for the lawyer and doctor, one or more. Sometimes sev- eral streets radiated out from this as the center. If there
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was one long and rambling street, the meeting house was as near as possible to the center of the population. If the street were very long and the houses in consequence of one end of it increased out of natural proportions, ques- tions would sometimes arise as to the proper site for the next structure. Now and then a contest between the north and south end, or east and west side arose, and at last two meeting houses in place of one, and the once peaceful village would be sundered into two factions, and the deserted old green would remain the melancholy memorial and witness of departed greatness or intestine strife. But this occurred in later times, and only now and then. Usually the meeting house retained its original central glory from the days of the fathers. This glory was by no means insignificant. The place of the meeting house being fixed, a village was certain to grow up beneath its sheltering and inspiring life. It is an important factor in the growth and development of New England history, that the mother settlements, more or fewer, of the first century, and those which gave character to all the rest, were in large villages, more or less compact, with a shaded street, ample home lots, well filled barns, and all the conveniences of mill and mechanics' and merchants' shops ready to their hand. These village communities, with their outlying farm- and wood-land, have been no unimportant feature of the New England life, and explain many of the marked peculiarities of its religious and educational life, of its intelligence and inventive skill, of its enterprise, its thrift, its energetic public spirit, and its emigrating success. Nearness to the meeting house in days when horses and cattle were few, and vehicles almost un- known, was no insignificant circumstance to the early New Englander who had crossed the ocean that he might construct and enjoy a church which his conscience ac-
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cepted and approved. The loneliness suggested by long stretches of intervening forest, the well-grounded fears during two or three generations of savage treachery or surprises, the costly wars which wasted the strength and cut short the lives of a sparse population, and all the attendants of a dependent and depressed colonial con- dition, compelled to an intense social life within these little communities, each of which was shut up within itself, with rarely or never a newspaper, with scarcely a post office for the first century or more, and with rarely a journey for wife or child, and never for a man, unless it were upon a voyage, a hunting expedition, or a cam- paign.
The meeting house in New England invariably sup- posed an organized church-indeed no New England plantation could be conceived as existing without this divinely appointed and life-giving center of life. The church was a community of elect souls who accepted, or, if you please, elected, one another as sympathizing in a common Christian faith and hope and joy, and as finding in one another the evidence that they had been called of God.
The church being organized, it forthwith proceeded to elect its minister, one who was commended to their con- sciences and hearts by holding their common faith and was animated by common sympathies with themselves. He was accepted as their teacher and pastor for life. And when the log-built meeting house was completed and the little community with its pastor had taken possession of it, the unhewn timbers and the hard benches and the rustic roof glowed with a visible splendor, as when the ark of the covenant was borne in state into the temple of Solomon and consecrated it as the dwelling place of the Living God. It was not till meeting house and minister
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were provided that the community was prepared to meet the duties and enterprises of their common life. In their quaint language a golden candlestick was set up, as was fondly hoped never to be removed, and the Lord Christ was seen to be present by its side. But before the meeting house was occupied it must be "seated" as the phrase went. That is, the places for occupation must be assigned to each member of the community. Subsequently this seating was by families. In the first meeting house in New Haven the sexes were separated and the places of each person are still on record marking the rank and dignity of every one. A little more than a hundred years since, at the completion of a large and stately meeting house, four men were appointed as a "Seating Commit- tee" and directed to perform the duty of their office "by their best discretion." The first committee having failed to give satisfaction, a second was appointed and ordered in discharging their function "to have respect to age, office, and estate, so far as it tendeth to make a man respectable, and to everything else which hath the same tendency." A few years afterwards in the same commu- nity a large committee was appointed "to dignify the meet- ing house," that is, to determine with exactness the rela- tive dignity of the seats, this having become necessary probably by the introduction of square pews instead of the long seats of earlier times and the consequent dis- turbance of the wonted associations of rank as indicated by place. To every household and every man was as- signed his place, and every household and every man was expected to be in his place. Equality before the law and in the presence of God was distinctly recognized by the New Englanders, but equality in place and station and honor in Church and State was in their view totally un-Christian and they enforced their ideas most emphati-
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cally in the meeting house where they seemed to come the nearest to God. Uncouth as were their manners, and harsh their speech, the spirit of courtesy and reverence animated their precise and decorous life. In the first gen- erations in Massachusetts and Connecticut attendance on public worship was enforced by law. By the same rule after which in these days parents are compelled to send their children regularly to the school house they were required to come with them to the meeting house on the Lord's day. On the same principle, till 1818 in Connecticut and till some years afterwards in Massachu- setts, every citizen was compelled to support some reli- gious organization by a tax on his estate. This was done in no spirit of religious tyranny but on definite grounds of public policy. What it cost in toil and fear to be present at the meeting house in the first generations no one of us can adequately imagine. But the toil and fear and priva- tion were cheerfully encountered from a sense of duty to God. The traditions are well nigh incredible, and yet are well accredited of the long distances by rough ways and through forests which men and women would travel in order to fulfill what was esteemed the great duty of the week.
Thus was formed the excellent habit which has done so much for the New England people of regular attendance at religious worship with every Lord's day. What was at first recognized as a religious duty, subsequently became also a social necessity and pleasure. So soon as the origi- nal villages began to be outgrown, and outlying farms of generous size were brought into culture several miles from the central village, it was a thing of course that "young men and maidens, old men and children" should have manifold reasons, when Sunday morning came, be- sides those of conscience for responding to the call, "Let
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us go up to the house of the Lord." It is not easy to conceive of a more inspiriting scene than the gathering of a country congregation [today] from a wide-spread township on a pleasant Sunday morning. The vehicles are of every variety from the pretentious landau down to the most dilapidated of single wagons with a horse to match it. The families vary in size and quality from eight or twelve of sturdy parents and buxom daughters with three or four sons on half broken colts behind, down to a pair composed of a staid old bachelor with his prim sister in their tidy vehicle with a circumspect and comely steed-all driving and riding at every conceivable pace, but all fresh with health and exhilarated by the morning drive. As they approach the meeting house they slacken their pace, their manner becomes more grave and circumspect, and they politely wait for one another as they approach the landing places to disembark their freight. During the protracted services including the nooning the horses must now and then be- come restive. When the squealing, and kicking, and biting became too indecorous to be endured, two or three young men of the horse-taming sort would quietly slip out and bring the irreverential beasts to the requisite Sabbath sobriety. But the interruption would sometimes make a serious break in the minister's wiredrawn argument. After the second service is over all is bustle again. The horses are scarcely more impatient than their drivers- one vehicle after another receives its freight and is off, the colts and unduly excited horses for a few moments bringing the foot passengers into mortal terror. But after a few brief demonstrations the homeward bound vehicles fall into line-the village street is one long cavalcade and in a few minutes all is quiet and lonely. The foot pas- sengers discuss the sermon and many things besides. Those in the vehicles distribute the news they have
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gathered and recall the sermon, it is to be hoped, during the week, for they refer to it often when the minister calls on his rounds.
The annual Thanksgiving festival was the one occasion when the meeting house and its worshipers could be said positively to relax from the traditional New England severity and to put on a genial and joyful aspect. In the old times, I have been told by those who knew, that the large brick oven was carefully heated and the chicken and other pies were consigned to its faithful ministra- tions, while the entire family repaired to the meeting house in full faith that the dinner would be done to a nicety against their return. In later and somewhat more degenerate days the mother of the household was con- spicuously absent with the consent of the congregation, especially if she had a special reputation for the delicious flavor of her baked meats and roasts, and the irresistible composition of her pies. In the better days the congrega- tion was large, being pleasantly reinforced by various representatives, from far and near, with wife or husband and children. The Thanksgiving anthem was given with excited zeal and listened to with complacent admiration or critical discrimination. The long prayer was offered with a more copious amplitude and freedom than was common and a more glowing fervor. The sympathy of the congregation could hardly be restrained as they noticed some bereaved household and thought of the beloved youth or parent who had gone. The sermon was more glowing and rhetorical than the discourse of ordinary Sundays, and was listened to with more marked atten- tion. Possibly some subject of local interest or enterprise was proposed or discussed, which might involve an ex- penditure of money or the venture of new enterprise. The blessings of the year, in the early and later harvests were
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gratefully recounted with a recognition of the blessings in disguise of a frost and a drought. The goodness of God was at least one day in the year definitely recognized in the old meeting house, and in a manner and with a fervor which the most exacting Arminian or the most tenacious Liberal could require. The duty of the rich and the pros- perous to the poor and the straitened was plainly en- forced by the preacher, and it was generously fulfilled by his hearers.
The rigorous Fast day-of all days the most odious and inexplicable to the youthful New Englander-was redeemed by nothing except the enlarged freedom and secularity of speech which was allowed to the minister and expected by his hearers. This was the one day on which he was expected to free his mind in respect to the sins of politicians, especially after the accession of Thom- as Jefferson. The positiveness with which this duty was discharged, the point and directness with which the anti- New England policy was discussed, gave a piquancy and interest to the Fast day services, which the solemnity of the day could not suppress. Not infrequently it might happen that the zeal of the preacher would altogether outrun his discretion and an explosive reaction would follow in the form of a certificate from the church of "the standing order" and a formal adhesion to whatever sec- tarian body happened to be most promising for political advancement. To a young minister the perils of Fast day were sometimes very serious, and the older and wiser men of the church took a long breath when they were fairly passed, and they felt that the church had taken no detri- ment.
These scenes remind me that the decorum and dignity which in theory were exacted in the New England meet- ing house were not always maintained. Those who com-
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plain of the austerity of the New England ways in the early days, and the fearful stiffness of the manners of young and old, and bestow an abundance of sympathy upon the young Puritans for the unnatural constraint to which they were subjected in the meeting house may spare their compassion. There was a lustiness of youth in that young blood, which could not and would not be controlled. It was not always, perhaps not usually, wicked, it was simply irrepressible. It often broke out in the meeting house, and occasioned infinite trouble to the elders. Even the fear of the tythingman could not always avail. The anticipated reproof of father and mother, the pointed reprimand of the minister from the pulpit were all in vain. The galleries swarmed with youthful life. The inmates were practically relegated to this court of the Gentiles, as hopeless subjects of their natural im- pulses, till the grace of God should bring them to a better mind, and it is not surprising that under this theory there should now and then occur some alarming outbreak which illustrated and proved afresh the doctrine of total de- pravity.
Whatever may be thought of the theology of the ser- mons which were preached in the New England meeting houses it will not be questioned that they educated the people, and for the first century were their most efficient instructors. The schools were irregular and insufficient. There were no newspapers, or next to none. The books were few and chiefly books of devotion and controversy. Physical science was almost unknown. There were scarcely any lawyers, and medicine as a profession was scantily and feebly represented. The minister was the oracle upon almost every subject. He was generally a man of classical education, a good Latin scholar, tolerable in Greek and Hebrew, with a fair knowledge of geometry
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and algebra, and some acquaintance with physics and astronomy. But he studied the Bible, and his theology and ethics involved reflection on those themes which never grow old, of man's duty and destiny, of God and His kingdom. The preaching earnestly and affectionately applied these truths for the guidance of the life in those duties which are acknowledged by all men to be binding, and to those aspirations and charities which are always as bright and sweet as the sunlight. The sermon and catechism implied earnest thinking on the part of adults and some training in letters on the part of children. There was nothing the New England minister so much deplored as ignorance and barbarism in his flock. He never discouraged study or the use of books, or the foun- dation of schools and colleges. He was foremost in the foundation of libraries, many of which are nearly a century old, and in stimulating culture of every descrip- tion. For all these reasons every meeting house was of necessity a center of culture, a school of good manners, a training place for decorum, an enforcement of order, in the name of the living God and in the interests of the kingdom of Christ.
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