USA > Massachusetts > Suffolk County > Boston > History of the Second Church, or Old North, in Boston : to which is added a History of the New Brick Church > Part 7
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25
inscribed upon his study-door, might be construed into an unsocial hint as well as an admonition of the value of time, were it not a well-authenticated fact, that all who knocked were readily admitted, and, when once within, found the occupant so entertaining and talkative, that he himself made it as difficult for them to obey the motto as it was agreeable to themselves to disregard it.
His views and mode of education and discipline were as judicious as they were in advance of his age. " He believed that children were alive to principles of reason and honor at a much earlier period of life than is generally supposed. He endeavored, first of all, to convince his own children of his affection, and in that way to lead them to the belief that to follow his judgment was the best way to secure their own good. He impressed upon them, that it was shameful to do wrong; and, when one of them had offended, his first punishment was to express his astonish- ment that the child could do any thing so unworthy. Removal from his presence was his ordinary punishment ; and it was only in extreme and peculiar cases that he ever inflicted a blow. He rewarded obedience by teaching them some curious piece of knowledge, which he had always at command; and thus, beside giving the imme- diate recompense of good conduct, he conveyed the impres- sion, that to gain instruction was not a hardship, but a privilege and reward. If they deserved censure, he would forbid their reading and writing; a prohibition which was strongly associated in their minds with degradation. He early led their minds to religious thoughts and contempla- tions, giving them views which were as solemn as possible,
84
HISTORY OF
but taking care to make them sensible of the goodness of God. He often told them of the good angels, whose office it was to protect them, and who ought never to be offended by misconduct or neglect; but he would not say much to them about the evil angels, because he would not have them entertain any frightful fancies."*
To this list of virtues might be added purity of life, unstained, so far as is known, or even suspected, by a sin- gle blot ; subjection of the appetites, even to their mortifi- cation ; systematic self-regulation, in conformity to rules which he conscientiously believed to be of divine sanction ; love of " the just liberties of mankind,; - for this also may be ranked with the virtues, having its root and issue in jus- tice ;- and a firm and faithful patriotism, which, if not one of the sacred sisterhood, consorts with that high company.
Moreover, if the closing hours of life are ever a touch- stone of character, - and no man should be judged till he has passed through them, - Cotton Mather bore that test well, and under circumstances peculiarly favorable for its application. For his intellect was not affected by disease; it was impossible that he could cheat himself with any hope of recovery; he knew that eternity was close at hand; and yet there was not such suddenness or hurry of preparation as to produce excitement, or prevent his true inward condi- tion from being seen. And with regard to that condition,
Life of Cotton Mather, by his Son.
His hatred of oppression manifested itself by indubitable signs. He was very bold to rebuke injustice in magistrates and great men. " I declare," he says, "for the just liberties of mankind, with a free indulgence of civil rights in the state."
85
THE SECOND CHURCH.
and the entire truthfulness of his feelings, no man who examines his death-scene, ever so critically, can entertain a doubt, - there is no room for doubt. Perfectly resigned and collected, sustained by "a strong consolation," declar- ing that "every thing looked smiling about him," full of hope without elation, and of longing without impatience, he awaited his last hour. " And now, vain world, farewell ! Thou hast been to me an uneasy wilderness. Welcome, everlasting life! The best hour that ever I saw is that for which I am gladly waiting. The paradise of God stands open to me. Covered with Christ's righteousness, brighter than an angel's drapery, I will go in at those golden gates ; for I have something to do within. I will go in, and praise the Lord. It is what I have begun to do; and his praise endureth for ever. Never, never shall I give over the doing of it." His desire of being useful was strong in death. His own great need did not withdraw his thoughts from others' good. With all his remaining energies he labored to impart instruction to all who came near him, and to stamp upon their minds sacred and enduring impressions. He wished, above all things, to glorify his heavenly Father by bringing forth fruit even on the bed of death. When his son, and afterwards his successor in this church, on the sabbath before he died, leaning over him to catch his last counsels, asked what single word or sentence, of condensed wisdom, he could give him, as the most precious keepsake, to carry about always, in remembrance of his father and for his own guidance, the instant and earnest response was the single but talismanic word " FRUITFUL." His heart was full of affection towards all, and his mouth overflowed with
86
HISTORY OF
blessings. " All delusions faded " from his mind, all infirmities fell off from his spirit, " as he drew near to the grave." He seemed to lay aside his foibles with his pilgrim-cloak, as if they had been but superficial stains. The clouds that sometimes obscured his sky melted away as his sun went down; and its setting was in mild glory. The beautiful sentence of holy writ which he often repeated at the last was strikingly fulfilled in himself : " It shall come to pass, that at evening-time it shall be light." *
And now, can this person, with such virtues, with such aims, whose life was devoted to such objects and crowned with such an end, have been other than an essentially righteous and intrinsically good man ? It is impossible to find any key to the interpretation of his history, any expla- nation of the main and constant facts of his life, any har- mony between his works and his motives, any congruity between his line of conduct and his line of purpose, except on the principle that he was really conscientious, benevo- lent, and devout.
But, if this be a true verdict, it will not be overthrown, but rather confirmed, by an examination of his faults. For
« He died the thirteenth of February, 1728, the day after his sixty- fifth birth-day. It surprises me that so accurate a writer as Mr. Peabody, in his biographical article in "Sparks's American Biography," should have said, " His son, in accordance with the principle on which his father's ' Life' is written, - to withhold all such information as might interest the reader, - does not say what the disorder was." He states expressly, that "he died of an hard cough with a suffocating asthma, with a fever." With all the love and respect I cherish for my lamented friend and brother, I feel con- strained to say, that he has treated the "Life of Cotton Mather, by his Son," too severely. That " Life " gives a very fair picture of his father, - which is its principal object, - without showing much genius or ability.
87
THE SECOND CHURCH.
not only is the preponderance of a good man's virtues made manifest by weighing them against his faults, but his virtues are to some extent illustrated by his faults ; while his faults, on the other hand, are in some degree explained and lightened by his virtues. He might not have had certain faults, if he had not possessed in a high mea- sure certain virtues ; and, but for the eminence of certain virtues, certain faults would have looked far more diminu- tive, or might have altogether escaped notice.
On turning our attention to the shaded side of Cotton Mather's character, the first thing that gives an unfavorable impression is its grotesqueness, which has the appearance of affectation and vanity. If such is really its nature, it certainly deserves ridicule, and is open to censure. But that it is really or wholly attributable to these unworthy causes is not to be taken for granted without investigation. For singularity, of itself, is not necessarily a fault, nor always an affectation. And it is no sure evidence of its being either, that it seems to us disagreeable or ridiculous. Some men are singular by nature. Some are so from a disproportionate development in a particular direction, ow- ing to a strong original bias, or some accidental pressure early and long applied. Every person appears eccentric to us whom we do not understand; though, if we were more thoroughly acquainted with him, or less exclusive in our opinions and limited in our judgment, we might be able to trace his peculiarities to some high law, and discover that justification of them which is apparent to himself. The singularity which we see in Cotton Mather, so far as I can understand it, is to be attributed, partly to his nature; partly
88
HISTORY OF
to circumstances and education; partly to the complexity and variety of his character and the exuberance of his en- deavors and acquisitions, which render him unintelligible to us, and probably also to himself; and partly, no doubt, to vanity. For that vanity was one of his faults, and pro- bably the most prominent of them all, is too apparent to be denied.
But the vanity of Cotton Mather is as peculiar as him- · self, and has a most remarkable history,- a history in which we may find abundant instruction for ourselves, if not a partial justification for him. Descended from a double line of the most distinguished clergymen of New England, and inheriting the name of both, he was regarded from infancy with more than ordinary interest, and the first indication of the qualities of his nature was waited for with anxious expectation. A strong hope was cherished by parents and friends, that he might prove himself wor- thy of the venerated names he bore, and sustain, through another generation, the pure fame and sacred honors which his progenitors had so long enjoyed. With a delight they could not disguise, and a gratitude to God that found indiscreet expression even in the hearing of their son, they hailed the early signs of unusual promise which dawned upon them as his faculties unfolded. It was evident that he was an extraordinary child. He was treated as such from his cradle. He was made to understand it. His mother expressed it in her looks, his father in his prayers, and both in their counsels and encouragements. He was taught to feel how much depended upon him, and how much was expected of him. He must set his mark high,
89
THE SECOND CHURCH.
very high. Eminent he must be, - not, certainly, without virtue and piety, - but eminent in these also, yes, in these especially. Learned he must be too; for learning had been the glory of his fathers; and scholarship, with his mother also, and his grandmother, had been coupled with Christian excellence, in their intercessions for their sons. The boy caught the desired inspiration. His ambition took fire before the time. He had a rich nature, more than ordinary genius, abundance of talent, remarkable energy, and no vicious propensities ; and, with such endowments, had he been allowed to come forward in the natural way, and not been early subjected to undue stimulus and a forced culture, he would undoubtedly have been, though less of a wonder, a greater man. And what is more, he would not have been inoculated with the vanity that dis- turbed his peace, troubled his virtues, and has tarnished his fame.
But, unfortunately for him, the flame that had been kin- dled at home was not, as is often the case, quenched when he came in contact with the world, and passed into the care of less partial instructors. At school he was treated as a prodigy; and he was a prodigy, for he entered it with the ambition of a man stimulating a more than boyish intellect. His teachers, rejoicing in such a willing pupil, and proud of the rapidity of his progress, were but too ready to lend their aid to his precocious development. They did not need to quicken, and they had neither the wisdom nor the self-denial to restrain him. By his twelfth year, they had carried him through the most difficult Greek and Latin authors, and presented him for admission to the
12
90
HISTORY OF
college, already more learned in the classics than most who had taken their degrees.
And here, too, as if all the world were in league against his simplicity, the first greeting of the venerable President was in terms too flattering for a higher measure of modesty and discretion than is within the compass of a mere boy, to have borne without injury. If the account of his college- life that has come down to us is true, - and there is cer- tainly no reason to discredit it, - the venerable Presidents of that institution cannot be held guiltless of having been accessory to his vanity. Dr. Hoar, in whose Presidency the young Mather entered, with a compliment not the less dan- gerous because of its gracefulness, borrowing from classic poetry a prophecy of his future celebrity, likened him to the young Telemachus ; giving him this head for his initial declamation : -
" Telemacho veniet, vivat modo, fortior ætas."
And President Oakes, under whom he graduated, as if not to be outdone by his predecessor, honored him, in his Latin oration at commencement, with a eulogy that, however merited, no considerations can justify : -
" Mather is named Cotton Mather. What a name! My hearers, I mistake : I ought to have said what names ! I shall not speak of his father; for I dare not praise him to his face." - Why did it not occur to him that it would have been less hazardous and improper than to have so praised the son ? - " But should he resemble his venerable grandfathers, John Cotton and Richard Mather, in piety, learning, splendor of intellect, solidity of judgment, pru-
91
THE SECOND CHURCH.
dence, and wisdom, he will indeed bear the palm. And I have confidence, that, in this young man, Cotton and Ma- ther will be united, and flourish again."
He must have been a far less susceptible and obedient pupil than he was, if his vanity had not developed apace under such respected tuition, and in the midst of such fos- tering influences. The only wonder is, that he was not completely ruined. He would have been so, but for his early and substantial piety, his unusual energy and per- severance, his real love of learning, and his conscientious diligence. Every thing was done to spoil him; and that he was not spoiled is an honor to his head and his heart.
His early tastes, his earnest piety, and his strong sense of religious obligation, though they could not avail to res- cue him altogether from the strong influences that roused his ambition, were powerful enough to turn that ambition into a right and holy direction. Ambition mingled, indeed, with his religious aspirations ; but their superior power bore it along with themselves in their own upward flight. They could not divest themselves altogether of its in- fluence ; but they pressed that influence into their own service. And this, I think, is the true explanation of all that is peculiar and faulty in his religious character. He was even more ambitious, from his infancy, of the very highest attainments and experiences of piety, than of emi- nence in any other direction. He had read the biographies of the most distinguished saints; and he longed to mount up to the same heights of holy meditation and rapturous intercourse with heaven to which they had soared. His youthful imagination was excited by the history of their
92
HISTORY OF
vigils and fasts and ascetic enterprises ; and his soul was stirred to repeat and rival them in his own experience and discipline. In the most impressible period of life, and with a mind of peculiar susceptibility, especially as to religious impressions, his closet companions were such books as Hall's " Treatise of Meditation " and Scudder's " Christian's Daily Walk," whose enthusiasm he eagerly caught, and whose sternest directions he endeavored systematically to put in practice. Thus his religious nature, at the outset, was forced above its strength, and beyond what its health could bear. The beautiful simplicity and freedom of a childish piety he was never permitted to enjoy. He aimed and was encouraged to leap into sainthood, when he should have been almost unconsciously advancing along the de- lightful path of peace, under the easy tuition of parental gentleness, and the soft constraint of the Holy Spirit, whose measure of influence is dispensed in most delicate harmony with the laws of the mind, and nicely balanced proportion to the growing capacity of the soul. When we have become familiar with his early religious history, we cease to wonder and to blame, - for all other emotions are swallowed up in pity and regret,- while we read of his long and oft-repeated fasts, his ascetic mortifications and vigils, his ecstacies and raptures in hours of nervous exhaustion and excitement, and his most exact system of devotional and practical duty, running out into the smallest trifles, and giving an air of formality and design, not only to every act of daily life, but even to every prayer and ejaculation of his most private moments. We cease, I say, to wonder and to blame; for we can trace all these extravagances back to
93
THE SECOND CHURCH.
causes independent of his nature or his will. Nay more, to a certain extent our censure is changed into admiration at the perseverance and patient energy with which he so steadily adhered to, and so thoroughly carried out, the great mistake of his childhood, and the difficult task which he had at first undertaken under false impressions of duty .*
But we must not suppose that Cotton Mather was not conscious of the fault we are considering, or that he did not struggle against it. His diary affords abundant evidence
* His son computed the number of his father's fasts at not less than four hundred and fifty. He always spent a day in fasting once a month, and generally one or two in a week. In these, he strove to see and feel all his sins, and to come very near to God in holy contemplation and fervent prayer.
I have alluded to his exact methods of devotion and duty. He endea- vored literally to fulfil the apostolic injunction, " Whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do," let us " do all to the glory of God." He strove to con- nect a religious meaning with every thing he saw or heard or did, and to derive from all religious improvement. His plans and devices for this pur- pose were numberless. He was extravagant, but sincere, in these contri- vances. His purpose was good, but he carried it to extremes. He was constantly spurring himself to devout thought and religious duty. He would not allow the least relaxation to his self-scrutiny and discipline. He was every hour setting to himself some new task of piety. Illustrations of these peculiarities might be multiplied almost without end. Two or three, however, will suffice : -
"I durst not let my mind lie fallow as I walk the streets. I rebuke myself with heavy complaints, if I have gone many steps without a struggle to pull down thoughts of my Saviour into my soul. I compel the signs in the streets to point me unto something in my Saviour that should be thought upon. When I am at a loss for fresh thoughts of him, it is but casting my eye on the shops of either side ; and from the varieties in them I have something in my Saviour suggested to me." When he knocked at a door, his faith was quickened towards his Saviour's promise, "Knock, and it shall be opened to you." When he paired his nails, he thought how he might " lay aside all superfluity of naughtiness." If a man passed, and did not notice him, he would pray, that God would help him "to take due notice of Christ." - Et cetera.
·
94
HISTORY OF
to the contrary. One of the first entries in it, after his leav- ing college, records his " apprehension of a cursed pride," working in his heart, that filled him with inexpressible bit- terness and confusion before the Lord. " I resolved, there- fore," he continues, " that I would set apart a day to humble myself before God for the pride of my own heart, and to entreat that by his grace I may be delivered from that sin. On examining myself, I found that proud thoughts fly- blowed my best performances, and also an ambitious affec- tation of pre-eminence far above what could belong to my age or worth, and above others that were far more deserv- ing than myself." Having then proceeded to consider the folly and wickedness of pride, and to set before himself strongly the absurdity of his glorying in himself, in whom God saw so many weaknesses and sins, he asks, " But what shall I do for the cure of this disease? In the first and chief place, I would carry my distempered heart unto the Lord Jesus, and put it into the hands of that all-sufficient Physician, for HIM to cure it. Secondly, I would be daily watchful against my pride, and continually keep an eye upon my heart, and check the least beginnings and first motion of this corruption." He concludes all with a prayer for help from above, in which he says, " I am laboring and heavy laden ; but Christ bids me come : he calls for my heart. But what kind of a heart ? He does not say ; but I am sure he calls for mine. Hence, though my heart be a proud heart, yet, as long as it is mine, I am to bring it. And, O Lord! I bring it because it is proud. O Lord! take it, and make it humble. Though I cannot overcome this pride, he can. Oh! let him do it; I wait upon him for it."
95
THE SECOND CHURCH.
Such struggles against his weaknesses, and such earnest prayers for divine help to overcome them, are continually revealed in his diary, and ought to be distinctly and honora- bly mentioned whenever his infirmities are spoken of.
Another fault quite evident in Cotton Mather is irrita- bility. He was by nature sensitive: his temperament was nervous, and he was constitutionally restless. His feelings were quick, and he expressed himself strongly. But that his anger was any more inflammable, or explosive, or sharp in report, than is commonly the case with impulsive, ardent, and intensely active men, there is no good reason to believe. Besides, he met with a great deal to vex him, and try his temper. His great activity ; his manifold writings on almost every subject; his multiplied engagements of a public nature ; his controversies ; his theological, ecclesias- tical, and political opinions, openly and strongly declared ; all these together kept him in such forwardness before the world, and brought him into contact with the prejudices of men at so many points, that he was constantly exposed to enmity and attack. He himself says, with some humor, “ I have, first and last, had such a number of pamphlets thrown at me, that, if I had been vulnerable, I might appear stuck as full of darts as the man in the signs of the almanack." It should be remembered also, in this connec- tion, that he had over his adversaries the doubtful advan- tage of a more abundant vocabulary, and a readiness and fluency of speech almost unequalled. Two bitter epithets for their one was no more than his fair proportion, con- sidering his more copious furniture of words, and ought perhaps to be taken as the measure of only an equal wrath.
96
HISTORY OF
But what is more to the purpose is this: If it can be proved as clearly, that any of his assailants were half as sorry for their anger and invective as he was for his own, or prayed more earnestly for a forgiving spirit and the con- trol of the tongue, though their offence were even greater than his, they shall be judged with as merciful a judgment. Again and again we find him humbling himself before God, when he had been betrayed into the indulgence of angry emotion or hasty speech, and praying for strength to overcome this propensity. Again and again we read in his private papers " Resolutions against speaking evil of any man. I will keep a charity for the person of whom I am forced to speak harshly, wishing most heartily that all good might rather be spoken of him. I will watch my heart, and never utter hard things with delight, but with brevity and aversion. If I know any good that can be said, I will balance the bad with the mention of it. I will first speak to the person, if I can; at all events, I will speak nothing of him but what I would be content to say to his face." Again and again we find prayers for the forgiveness of his enemies, and for a blessing upon those who had maligned him.
A single paragraph, illustrative of the sincerity of such prayers, is all that I have space to transcribe. It is hardly necessary to say, that it was not written with the expecta- tion of its ever being seen by any eye but his own. Let any man read it, and judge whether the instantaneous association of kind wishes for those who had wronged him, with the first rush of joyous emotion at the sense of God's mercy to himself, is not a beautiful evidence of a heart
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.