YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

LIYE S
OF THE
CHIEF FATHERS OF NEW ENGLAND.
The Lord our God De with us, as lie was with our
fathers ; let "Mm not leave us, nor forsake us.
1 IKnros 8: 67.
VOL. II.

THE LIYES

JOHN WILSON, JOHN NORTON,

JOHN DAVENPORT,

BY A. W. M'CLURE.

LIBRARY EDITION, 100 COPIES.

BOSTON: 18 7 0.

PREFACE.

It is now two hundred and twenty-five years, since
" the May-flower furled her tattered sail," by the
bleak and wintry shores of Plymouth. A handful of
wayworn and careworn pilgrims planted their feet
upon that famous rock, bedewing it with tears, still
freezing as they fell. That handful of seed-corn
has increased and multiplied by successive harvests,
till the fruit thereof now shakes like Lebanon, and
flourisheth like the grass of the earth. Thefoun-
dation of the Roman State was as weak and un
promising as that of New England. But we may
expect for our people a wider predominance than
ever all-conquering Rome attained, — a dominion far
more noble than that which is won by force of arms.
Ours is the dominion of mind, girded with the armor
of truth, and victorious under the banners of freedom
and religion.
To achieve the triumph for which we hope, and for
which our fathers struggled, it is needful to keep alive
their memory, and diffuse their principles. This vol
ume is offered as an humble aid in this great work.
As our fathers have been noisily charged with having
a spirit of extreme bigotry, and unequaled intoler-
1*

PREFACE.

ance ; and as this charge, more than any other, tends
to impede the good influence of their principles and
examples, it was thought best to meet it once for all.
This will be found attempted at some length, and, it
is thought, with the necessary effect, in the third
chapter of the Life of John Wilson. The rest of the
volume is composed of biographical matter. It may
be expected, that this series will soon be extended by
other volumes, from several writers, descriptive of the
compeers of those good men who are commemorated
here. May the descendants of the Pilgrims and Puritans
follow their faith, order, and piety. Let us pray with
Solomon ; — ' ' O Lord God of our fathers, keep this for
ever in the imagination of the thoughts of the heart of
thy people, and prepare their heart unto thee."
Boston, May 1, 1846.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

CHAPTER I.
All true ministers sent of God, John Wilson's birth — parentage-
education. Eton school. King's College, Cambridge. Fellow
ship. Slander. Conversion. Prejudice against Puritans. Richard
Rogers. Mr. Wilson joins the Puritans. Dr. Ames. Mr. Wilson
obliged to leave the University. Inns of court. Return to Cam
bridge. Called to his father's death-bed. doubled for non-con
formity. " Some Helps to Faith." Countess of Leicester. Lec
turers. Chaplain. Lady Scudamore. Sabbath-keeping. Mr.
Wilson settled at Sudbury. His success there. His troubles in
the bishop's courts. Suspended. Silenced. Restored. Death of
Harsnet. Mr. Wilson departs to America.
Owe of the most famous of the Lord's ministers
with whom the Bible acquaints us, is thus intro
duced — " There was a man sent from God
whose name was John." All true ministers are
sent of God. In this sense, they are all mis-
siotiaries, all apostles; both of which terms,
according to their derivations, have the same
meaning. They designate such as are com
missioned to go upon God's errand, to dp his

8 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

work, and bear his messages to men. John,
the son of Zecharias, was thus sent, as the text
asserts, from God. He was a sort of herald, to
precede and announce the near advent of our
Lord. And a glorious office it was, to sound
the trumpet in Zion, and make proclamation of
the coming of the Son of Man. Great was the
honor, to be the day-star to that rising orb.
In a lower sense, it may be said of him of
whom we are to speak at this time, " there was
a man sent from God, whose name was John."
This man, like his illustrious namesake, that
lone prophet of the desert, was a sort of fore
runner of our Lord, proceeding' before his face
into this part of the wide wilderness. He was
the first voice which cried upon the desert pen
insula of Shawmut ; — " Prepare ye the way of
the Lord, make his paths straight ! "
But the apostolic man whom we now com
memorate, more resembles in character that
other John, the favored disciple, beloved of God
and man. Like that last surviving apostle, the
first pastor of Boston, united a burning flame of
zeal with a love-breathing spirit of the tenderest
charity. Our fathers considered him to excel
other men in love, as much as their venerated
Cotton exceeded them in light.
John Wilson was born at Windsor, in Eng-

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. \)
land, in the year 1588. His family was highly
respectable. His father, Rev. Dr. William
Wilson, was a well-beneficed clergyman, being
a prebend of St. Paul's, of Rochester, and of
Windsor, and rector of the parish of Cliff. The
mother was a niece of Dr. Edmund Grindall,
the pious archbishop of Canterbury, who, in the
reign of Queen Elizabeth, favored the Puritans
to the extent of his power, and at the cost of the
severe displeasure of the imperious Queen.
Under the care of his parents, John Wilson,
who was their third son, was trained to an ab
horrence of every form of vice, and especially of
every appearance of falsehood. At the age of
ten, he was placed under what was then the
rigorous discipline of Eton college. While
here he was twice rescued with difficulty from
drowning. Such was his proficiency in study,
that, when yet the smallest boy in school, he was
appointed prepositor, or overseer of the other
scholars. When the French ambassador, the
Duke de Biron, visited the Seminary, our hope
ful youth made a Latin oration so much to the
Duke's satisfaction, that he gave him for lar
gesse three angels ; a sort of gold coin so called,
of ten shilling's value. After four years' stay
at Eton, he was admitted to King's College,
Cambridge, in 1602, being then in his fifteenth

10 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
year. In due time, he was elected to a fellow
ship in his college. This election, effected by
the warm interposition of the provost in his be
half, he had like to have lost, in consequence of
some slanders which had been maliciously cir
culated to prevent the choice. This affliction
led his mind to serious reflections, and disposed
him to be much in prayer.
The injurious reports were soon cleared up,
and vanished into forgetfulness. It has been
said by one who was himself most unreasonably
calumniated ; — " A slander that has no truth to
support it, is only a great fish upon dry land ; it
may flounce, and fling, and make a fretful
pother, but it will not bite you ; you need not
knock it on the head, it will soon be still, and
die quietly of itself." The weapons of the slan
derer are never more completely foiled, than
when met by silent contempt. From that im
penetrable shield, how often have, the enven
omed darts rebounded upon the assailant ! It
was wisely sung by one of our older poets ; —

' And I do count it a most rare revenge.
That I can thus, with such a sweet neglect,
Pluck from them all the pleasure of their malice ;
For lhat's the mark of all their enginous drifts,
To wound my patience, howso'er they seem
To aim at other objects ; which, if missed,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 11
Their envy's like an arrow shot upright,
That, in the fall, endangers their own heads."
The trouble of mind which young Mr. Wilson
suffered from the malice of his detractor, proved
to be an advantageous affliction ; it is so true,
that " the eye which sin shuts, affliction opens."
" Certain it is," says Jeremy Taylor, " unless
we first be cut and hewn in the mountains, we
shall not be fixed in the temple of God."
Mr. Wilson, through the divine blessing upon
the restraints of a careful and virtuous educa
tion, had ever continued in a course of serious
and irreproachable morality. Strange as it may
seem to such as have not known it by experi
ence, persons of this character often endure the
most distressing and protracted convictions of
sinfulness before God ; and are often the most
earnest in renouncing, even with horror, all
thought of relying on their own righteousness,
and in trusting for salvation to the merits of
Christ alone. There is no hopeful sign of grace
in these " moral sinners," till they begin to
manifest a painful consciousness of the native
corruption of their hearts and their guiltiness in
the sight of a holy God. Though sin be the
cause of all our misery, yet a sense of sin is the
first step to all the happiness of the Christian
life.

12 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

Under the preaching of several godly divines,
who were then the lights of the University, Mr.
Wilson became an anxious inquirer for that one
thing he yet lacked. And now the grace of
Christ, which no one ever sought sincerely, and
sought in vain, taught him to make strenuous
exertions, that others might know that grace,
and rejoice in its power. He regularly visited
the prisons ; and, through his patient and labo
rious efforts, many of the hardened convicts
were softened, and melted to repentance.
This young and ardent Christian was filled
with educational prejudices against the Puri
tans. Though his devout and zealous life
caused him to be regarded as one himself, his
high-church notions led him to shun their
acquaintance. His strong prepossessions against
a class of men whom he had ever been accus
tomed to hear decried, without knowing what
their sentiments really were, at last were re
moved. Making purchases in a bookseller's
shop, to increase his well-stocked library, he
fell upon a highly esteemed work of the Rev.
Richard Rogers, styled " The Seven Trea
tises." The reading of this book so affected
Mr. Wilson's mind, that he made a journey to
Weathersfield, in Essex, in order to listen to the
preaching of its author.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 13
Mr. Rogers was then an old minister, and
had often been suspended, and silenced, and
otherwise troubled for his non-conformity. He
was a most faithful and laborious minister ; and
it is said, that " the Lord honored none more in
the conversion of souls." He was an admired
preacher. He used to say; — "I should be
sorry if every day were not employed as if it
were my last." He was called the Enoch of his
day; and Bishop Kennet said of him, "that
England hardly ever brought forth a man who
walked more closely with God." He was grave
and serious in all company. A gentleman once
said to him ; — " Mr. Rogers, I like you, and
your company, very well, only you are too pre
cise." To this he replied ; — " Oh Sir, I serve a
precise God."
Enlightened by the instructions, public and
private, of this divine, and by the study of able
writers, Mr. Wilson clearly saw, that the Puri
tans were far preferable to the Impuritans as
companions of one who was diligently seeking
eternal life. Returning to the University, he
sought the counsels of Dr. William Ames, who
was about this time, in 1610, driven to Holland,
where he spent the rest of his days in great
fame for learning, piety and usefulness. He
died just as he was upon the point of embarking
VOL. II. 2

14 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
for New England, whither his widow and chil
dren soon after went, carrying his valuable
library. Mr. Wilson, following the advice of
Dr. Ames, gathered around him a company of
pious associates, who statedly met in his college
chambers, for fasting, conference and prayer.
It was not long, before, like most other Pu
ritans, he began to scruple at some of the rites
imposed by the National Church. He procured
all the books he could find on either- side of the
question, and seriously weighed the arguments
they contained. Though early impressions and
personal interests must have made the scale
gravitate strongly in favor of conformity, yet
conscience and duty preponderated the other
way. A3 the result of this long and solemn
deliberation, he began, in the worship of God,
to omit some ceremonies, which he felt to be
instituted in derogation from the kingly power
of Christ in his Church. For these omissions,
the Bishop of Lincoln, at a visitation of the
University, pronounced against him the sen
tence of quindenum, or expulsion within fifteen
days, unless he should desist from the offence.
This news stirred up all the affection of his dis
tressed father, who urgently wrote to him to
conform ; and exercised his influence with the
bishop to procure three months' indulgence,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 15
within which time the son must conform, or
resign his fellowship and hopes of promotion.
His father sent him to several divines of note,
in hopes they would succeed in removing his
scruples. But after much interchange of talk
ing and writing, Mr. Wilson was more decided
than before. Upon this, his father sought to
withdraw him from the ministry, and placed
him at the Inns of Court as a student of the law.
Here too he found pious acquaintances, with
whom he constantly met for devotional exer
cises. He also derived much benefit from the
acquaintance of Scultet, the learned chaplain
of the Prince Palatine of the Rhine, who was
then making some stop in England.
After three years spent in the inns of court
in pursuits uncongenial to his feelings, Mr.
Wilson's father yielded to his wishes to enter
the ministry, and consented that he should
return to the University to take his degree of
Master of Arts. He applied for this purpose to
a different college from that in which he had
formerly met with trouble. But Dr. Cary, vice-
chancellor of the University, being aware of the
old difficulty, would not admit him to his de*
gree, unless he would subscribe to the articles
of the Church by law established. Distressed
by this impracticable condition, he went to his

16 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
father's house. There, at that time, was visit
ing a gentleman of influence, who had business
with the Earl of Northampton, then Chancellor
of the University. At the intercession of that
gentleman, the Earl immediately wrote in Mr.
Wilson's favor to the Vice-Chancellor. All
difficulty gave way before this potent recom
mendation. The candidate obtained the desired
degree, and resided for a while in Emanuel
College. This was to him a matter of import
ance, by reason of the power which the Univer
sity enjoyed of licensing persons to preach
throughout the realm, without previous applica
tion to the diocesans. For this purpose, he
made frequent journeys into the adjoining
counties. At this time, Mr. Wilson made a
solemn resolution before God ; — " That if the
Lord would grant him liberty of conscience,
with purity of worship, he would be content,
yea, thankful, though it were at the furthermost
end of the world." To this resolution he faith
fully adhered, and God granted his desire.
Soon after he had preached his first sermon
at Newport, he was summoned to his father's
death-bed. According to the patriarchal cus
tom, the children kneeled in succession for
their dying parent's blessing. When the staunch
young Puritan kneeled in his turn, there bowed

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 17
at his side the lady to whom he was betrothed,
Elizabeth, the virtuous daughter of Sir John
Mansfield. Upon this, the expiring father
said ; — " Ah John, I have taken much care
about thee, such time as thou wast in the Uni
versity, because thou wouldest not conform. I
would fain have brought thee to some higher
preferment than thou hast yet attained unto. I
see thy conscience is very scrupulous, concern
ing some things that have been observed and
imposed in the Church. Nevertheless I have
rejoiced to see the grace and fear of God in thy
heart ; and seeing thou hast kept a good con
science hitherto, and walked according to thy
light, so do still ; and go by the rules of God's
holy Word. The Lord bless thee, and her
whom thou hast chosen to be the companion of
thy life."
Consoled by this paternal benediction, Mr.
Wilson gave himself wholly to the work of the
gospel. Among other places, he preached in
Moreclake. Here his non-conformity involved
him in a tempest of troubles ; from which, how
ever, he found shelter; partly by a mistake of
those who informed against him ; and partly by
the favor of the magistrate before whom he was
cited, who happened to be Sir William Bird, a
kinsman of Mr. Wilson's wife.-
2*

18 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
This storm being blown over, Mr. Wilson
was occupied as chaplain in several honorable
families. One was that of the Countess of
Leicester, to whom he dedicated the only book,
except a small poem, he ever published. It is
entitled, " Some Helps to Faith ; shewing the
neeessitie, grounds, kinds, degrees, and Signes
of it ; clearing divers doubts, and answering
objections made by the Soule in temptation.
Seruing also for a tryall of a man's spirituall
estate. The third Edition, explaining and in-
larging something in the former. By John
Wilson, Preacher of God's Word in Guilford.
Philip. 1.25,26. For your furtherance, and
ioy of faith, that you may more abundantly
reioyce in Jesus Christ. London, Printed for
Robert Milbourne, and are to be sold at his
Shop at the sign of the Grayhound in Paul's
Churchyard. 1630." The first edition was
probably printed ten or twelve years before.
This little volume, with its large title, indicat
ing, as the custom then was, the contents of the
book, is excellent of its kind. It abounds in
divisions, and still more in appropriate Scripture.
It is such a treatise of practical piety as none
but a devout Calvinist could write. The cele
brated Hannah More, who liked not the dis
tinctive sentiments of such men, was very fond

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 19
of reading what they wrote upon experimental
religion. She used to say, that she " loved the
lean of their fat." Her taste is to be com
mended : for, in truth, to the devout soul, hun
gering for " strong meat," there is but little
nourishment afforded by "the lean kine," of the
Pelagian herd, or " the bulls of Bashan," who
push with the horns of Arminius, and bellow in
his tones.
The " Helps to Faith," is inscribed " to the
truly noble ladie, The Ladie Lettice ; Coun-
tesse of Leicester." In this address, Mr. Wilson
says ; — " It hath pleased God to stirre up your
Ladyshippe for my good : First, in calling mee
to bee a minister to your Honorable Family,
how weake soeuer ; yet not without some fruite
by his blessing, whose power is seene in weake-
nesse ; where, how I was cared for, my Con
science doeth witnesse : Secondly, in your op-
portunitie, (preferring publique good, so were
your wordes,) giving mee a free and comfortable
entrance into this charge, wherin I now labor,
according to my measure. And from that time,
I have been followed with kindnesse from that
house : but it especially refresheth mee to re
member, that for the worke of my Ministerie,
your Honour willed mee to account you as my
Mother." It is probable, that the duty to which

20 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

he was called in Guilford by his pious pat
roness, was that of " lecturer."
In those days, very many of the ministers,
even of large parishes, were incompetent for
their work. The patron, who had livings in his
gift, or the right of conferring the parish on
whom he would, too often abused this right
which he had acquired by inheritance or pur
chase. Men who entered the ministry from the
lowest motives would " come and crouch to
him for a piece of silver and a morsel of bread,"
and say, " Put me, I pray thee, into one of the
priests' offices, that I may eat a piece of bread."
Many of these incumbents were incapable of
praying except by a book, and incapable of
preaching in any way. The reading of the
Common Prayer, and sometimes of a printed
Homily authorized by the government for the
purpose, was all that they attempted for the
instruction of their flocks. To " supply this
lack of service," religious persons of wealth
would often support a lecturer, to preach, statedly
in some church thus unprovided with a preach
ing pastor. Nearly all these lecturers, and
indeed almost all other zealous preachers, were
of the .Puritan stamp. Of course, they were
viewed with much dislike by those whom the
good martyr and bishop Latimer commonly

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 21
called " the unpreaching prelates." These
prelates, and others who were inclined to des
potism in Church and State, were quite of Queen
Elizabeth's mind, who thought, that " one
preacher was enough for a whole county." The
lecturers were not, usually, suffered to pursue
their labors without interruption. They were
usually driven off under some charge of non
conformity. It is probable, that Mr. Wilson
continued but a short time to be " preacher of
God's Word in Guilford," though of this we
have no certain information.
We have mentioned, that he was employed
as domestic chaplain in several families of dis
tinction. The last of these was the family of
the pious lady Scudamore. While here, he
was grieved to notice the worldly and unsuitable
conversation of the gentry at the table on the
Sabbath. At last he rose, and said ; — " I will
make bold to speak a word or two. This is the
Lord's holy day, and we have been hearing his
holy Word. We should think and speak about
such things as have been delivered in the name
of God ; and not lavish out the time in discourse
about hawks and hounds." Upon this one of
the gentlemen very handsomely thanked him
for the reproof; and expressed the hope that it
might not be uttered in vain. However, the

22 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
next Sabbath, the gentlefolks were at their old
table-talk again. Mr. Wilson did not fail to tell
them ; — " that the hawks they talked of, were
the birds that picked up the seed of the Word
after it was sown:" he also entreated them to
talk of " such things as might sanctify the day,
and edify their own souls." The same gentle
man who had thanked him for the first admoni
tion, again thanked him for his faithful warning.
But Mr. Leigh, the husband of the lady of the
house, was deeply offended. Lady Scudamore
wished her chaplain to say something to appease
him. But Mr. Wilson was ready to leave the
family, rather than make any apology for having
discharged his duty. When it was found that
neither the kindness nor the displeasure of his
patrons could make the good man swerve from
his fidelity, Mr. Leigh and the others amended
their fault ; and the day of sacred rest was no
longer profaned by unsuitable discourse.
After he left this family, Mr. Wilson preached
a while at Henley. He then, for three years,
preached in rotation at four neighboring places,
in Suffolk county, namely, Bumstead, Stoke,
Clare, and Candish. At one of these places,
some people of Sudbury happened to hear him ;
and he was, in consequence, invited to become
minister there, as successor to Mr. Jenkyn, an

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 23
eminent Puritan, who died in 1618. His call
to this place was signed by many scores of the
people, and the leading men among them. He
would not accept this pastoral charge, till he
was freely elected by the people on a day of
solemn prayer and fasting, at which the neigh
boring ministers assisted. He was the more
willinglo settle in this town, because it placed
him in the neighborhood of the aged Mr.
Rogers, from whose counsels both he and his
predecessor, Mr. Jenkyn, had obtained much
spiritual aid ; and from whose dying lips Mr.
Wilson afterwards received a blessing among
that good man's children. It was here, that
Mr. Wilson became acquainted with the excel
lent John Winthrop, then living in the neigh
borhood, and afterwards the prime leader of the
Massachusetts colony, and with whom Mr.
Wilson first came to these shores.
During his ministry in Sudbury, Mr. Wilson,
like a faithful ambassador for Christ, strictly
followed his Master's instructions. He became
eminent for the success with which God crowned
his evangelical labors. Many remarkable cases
of conversion attested that the Lord was with
him. One instance is related of a tradesman
in that place, who was much addicted to vicious
practices ; and, among them, to pilfering. One

24 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
day, as this man was observing the people
flocking to Mr. Wilson's lecture, the thought
occurred to him ; — " Why should I tarry at
home to work, when so many go to hear a ser
mon ? " And so he went with the multitude.
But when there, he heard a sermon specially
applicable to himself, from the text ; — " Let him
that stole, steal no more." Receiving this as
God's message to his soul, the penitent hearer
became a reformed and pious man.
In those persecuting times, it was not to be
expected, that a servant of God so eminent for
zeal and usefulness as Mr. Wilson, should
escape unharmed. There was a sort of upstart
preacher among the Puritans at Sudbury, who,
irritated at the superior respect paid to Mr.
Wilson, became a conformist. In him the
smoke of apostacy, as too often happens, bmst
forth into the blaze of persecution. This person
made his complaints to the Bishop's courts,
from whose sentence our worthy pastor escaped
only by the powerful intercession of some influ
ential men who exerted themselves in his behalf.
On one occasion, his prosecutor employed a
pursuivant, noticed above all others for his
activity in such business, to arrest Mr. Wilson.
But though this " mighty hunter," whose " prey
was man," arrested scores of people, who were

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 25
returning from lecture, he dismissed them all,
because he had missed of taking the preacher,
who, by a good providence, had gone out of his
way to visit a friend.
After this, a lady of rank, not intending any
offence, chanced to speak too favorably of Mr.
Wilson's preaching in comparison with that of a
certain reverend doctor. Upon this the angry
divine applied to the Bishop of London, who
suspended Mr. Wilson from office for the scan
dalous offence of preaching better than some of
his neighbors.
This suspension had not been long taken off,
when he was wholly silenced, with several
other worthy ministers, by Dr. Harsnet, Bishop
of Norwich. After a while, the Earl of War
wick, a very potent nobleman, signed a letter to
this Bishop, which letter Mr. Wilson drew up
at the Earl's desire. Hereupon he was at once
restored to the freedom of his ministry. That
same Bishop, not long after, went forth upon an
expedition to the northern part of his diocese,
to put down the non-conforming pastors and
people there. Meanwhile the ministers in the
southern region set apart a day of fasting, to
pray for the help of heaven in behalf of their
brethren. On that very day, the oppressive
prelate was taken with a violent fit, which
vol. n. 3

26 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
forced him to stop at a wretched inn on the
road, when he suddenly expired. This is one
out of the numberless instances which church
history affords, of the miserable end which per
secutors have commonly met. " The Lord is
known by the judgment which he executeth."
But persecution died not with Dr. Harsnet.
The harrassed and worn out Puritans began to
sigh for that repose and security, which the old
world could not offer them. They began to say
one to another ; — " The sun shines as pleasantly
on America as on England, and the Sun of
Righteousness much more clearly. Let us re
move whither the providence of God calls, and
make that our country, which will afford us
what is dearer than property or life, the liberty
of worshiping God in the way which appears
to us most conducive to our eternal welfare." *
Mr. Wilson, after he had ministered at Sud
bury for ten or twelve years, embarked with
many of his neighbors in the large company of
fifteen hundred settlers, which came over with
John Winthrop in the year 1630. They left
the Isle of Wight on the 8th of April ; and by
the 12th of June, the principal vessel of their
fleet of thirteen, arrived at Salem, which had

* Neal's Hist. Vol. II, p 207.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 27
begun to be settled some three or four years
before. Thus these good men went from one
sore trial to another. They left behind them
the home from which it was so painful parting ;
and before them were the sorrows of the wil
derness.'

28 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

CHAPTER II.
Hard times. Mr. Wilson's activity. Church formed at Charles-
town. Mr. Wilson installed as teacher of the church. Removal to
Boston. Mr. Wilson returns to England. His second voyage to
America. House of worship built. Prognostications. Excursion to
Plymouth; Sabbath, and order of worship there. Mr. Wilson in
stalled as pastor of Boston. Arrival of John Cotton, who becomes
teacher. Mr. Wilson's labors among the Indians. Account of
Sagamore John. His death and the destruction of his band. His
son committed to Mr. Wilson's care. Treatment of the Indians.
Land-title. John Cotton. Penn's treaty. Low price of wild
lands. Revival in Boston Church. Intercourse between the min
istry and magistracy. The clergy, the friends of liberty. Adven
ture at Naniasket. Mr. Wilson again returns to England. Dan
gers on the Irish coast. Driven to Ireland. Travels in England.
Legacy of Dr. Wilson. Visit to Sudbury. Visit to Nathaniel Rog
ers. Mrs. Elizabeth Wilson. Good Mr. Dod's message to her.
Her husband in peril. Edward Johnson. Sails for America the
last time. His fellow voyagers, Shepard, Hugh Peters, &c. Ar
rival at Boston. Antinomian controversy.
Mr. Wilson was about forty-two years of age
when he came to this country. He exerted
himself most energetically to encourage the
people under the inconceivable difficulties of a
new settlement. His " over-doing liberality,"
knew no bounds except his limited means.
Morton, naming him as " eminent for love and

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 29
zeal," says that he " bare a great share of the
difficulties of these new beginnings with great
cheerfulness and alacrity of spirit." He was
fully up to the spirit of that time of primitive
zeal and love, when no disciple said, " that
aught of the things which he possessed was his
own; but they had all things common." Such
were their hardships as to afford full scope for
his active benevolence. Some idea of their suf
ferings may be derived from the fact, that, with
in three months from their landing, they buried
near two hundred of their number : those who
survived were sadly prostrated by sickness : and
two hundred of them abandoned the colony that
fall. These distresses were owing to insuffi
cient shelter as they lay " up and down in
booths," and to the want of suitable food and
remedies. Mr. Wilson was indefatigable in his
endeavors to console the afflicted, and revive
the hopes of the faint-hearted. There is a tra
dition of his preaching a comforting discourse
upon the example of the patriarch Jacob, who
was not discouraged though his beloved Rachel
died by the way, as he was removing in obedi
ence to the divine command.
In the face of disaster, Mr. Wilson still urged
on the main design of the colony, which was,
" to settle and enjoy the ordinances of the gos-
3*

30 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
pel, and worship the Lord Jesus Christ accord
ing to his own institutions." Having settled
at Charlestown in the month of July, with a
considerable part of the colony, on the thirtieth
of that month, a day of fasting was observed on
account of the prevailing mortality. The servi
ces were held, as we derive from that old wor
thy, Roger Clap, under a shady oak ; where,
says that delightful example of puritanism in
private life, " I have heard many a good sermon
from Mr. Wilson and Mr. Phillips." In truth
it was " a brave old oak," which springing from
a poor acorn, but growing up till it becomes the
branching monarch of the forest, was the fit em
blem of their church and commonwealth. When
the public services of that day were closed, four
men, agreeable to previous arrangement, formed
themselves into a visible church of God, by en
tering into a solemn covenant with God, and
with each other. They were the Governor
Winthrop, the Deputy governor Dudley, Mr.
Isaac Johnson, and Rev. Mr. Wilson. Many '
others were soon after added to their commun
ion which was formed by signing the foljowing
covenant : —
" In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, and
in obedience to his holy will and divine ordi
nance. ?

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 31
" We whose names are here underwritten, be
ing by his most wise and good providence
brought together into this part of America, in
the Bay of Massachusetts, and desirous to unite
into one congregation or church, under the Lord
Jesus Christ, our Head, in such sort as be-
cometh all those whom he hath redeemed, and
sanctified to himself, do hereby solemnly and re
ligiously, as in his most holy presence, promise
and bind ourselves to walk in all our ways ac
cording to the rule of the gospel, and in all sin
cere conformity to his holy ordinances, and in
mutual love and respect to each other, so near
as God shall give us grace."
At the first Court of Assistants, which was
held in Charlestown, the twenty-third of Au
gust, 1630, the first business taken into consid
eration was the maintenance of the ministry.
It was ordered, that houses be built for Mr. Wil
son and Mr. Phillips, with convenient speed at
the public charge. Sir Richard Saltonstall un
dertook to see it done for Mr. Phillips, at Wa-
tertown, and the governor was to do the same
for Mr. Wilson, at Charlestown settlement. Mr.
Phillips was to have thirty pounds a year, be
ginning at the first of September following. Mr.
Wilson was to have twenty pounds a year, till
his wife should join him, beginning from the

32 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
tenth of July preceding. These dates, doubt
less, indicate the times in which their stated
labors respectively began. These salaries were
to be paid at the common charge of the colony,
excepting the settlers at Salem and Dorchester.
Four days after the meeting of the court, be
ing the last Friday in August, another fast was
held, when Mr. Wilson was chosen teaching
elder ; Mr. Increase Nowell, who was after
wards Secretary of the colony till his death in
1655, was chosen ruling elder ; William Gager
was chosen deacon, whom Governor Dudley
calls " a right godly man, a skilful chyrurgean,"
and who died in less than four weeks after.
The other deacon was William Aspinwall, who
was a notary public. These were all set apart
to their respective offices by the laying on of the
hands of the brethren. Governor Winthrop,
who was active on the occasion, says ; — " We
used imposition of hands ; but with this protes
tation by all, that it was only as a sign of elec
tion and confirmation; not of any intent that
Mr. Wilson should renounce his ministry he re
ceived in England."* It is singular that most
of our historians should pay so little regard to
this distinct and explicit protestation, as to repre-
* Savage's Winthrop, Vol. I., p. 32.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 33
sent our fathers of this colony as renouncing the
ordination received from the Church in the
mother country. They had no such intention.
Thus they organized, and furnished with its
officers, that which was afterwards known as
the First Church of'Boston, to which place
most of the members removed within a few
weeks from these transactions. At first those
who removed went over to Charlestown to wor
ship on the Sabbath. Very soon divine service
was celebrated alternately on each side of the
river : and ere long the First Church worship
ed altogether on the trimontane peninsula,
Long shone that Church as a light to the world,
and eminent " as a city that is set on an hill."
The next year Mr. Wilson sailed for Eng
land. Before going, on the twenty-ninth of
March, 1631, he met with the principal mem
bers of the congregation at the governor's resi
dence. Having prayed with them, he exhorted
them to love, union and fidelity; and advised
them, during his absence, to use the liberty of
prophesying, — that is, to avail themselves -of the
gifts of the lay -brethren in exhortation and re
ligious instruction. He designated Governor
Winthrop, Mr. Deputy governor Dudley, and
Mr. Nowell the ruling elders, as specially fitted
to this duty. These worthy men accepted the

34 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
charge, " knowing well," as good Mr. Hubbard
says, " that the princes of Judah, in king Heze-
kiah's reign, were appointed to teach the people
out of the law of God." The interview was
closed with prayer by the devout governor, at
Mr. Wilson's request, who was then conducted
to the boat on his way to Charlestown, from
whence he went by land to Salem. From this
port he sailed, with many other passengers, on
the first of April, and arrived at London on the
twenty-ninth of the same month. His place
was speedily supplied by Rev. John Eliot, who
arrived soon after Mr. Wilson's departure.
He appears to have been unsuccessful in what
had probably been the chief object of his voyage,
the attempt to persuade his wife to accompany
him into the formidable desert. The good re
port that he brought of the land, greatly stirred
up the hearts of others to seek it. Mrs. Mar
garet Winthrop, one of the noblest spirited of
the old puritan dames, fired by his representa
tions, burned to be crossing the ocean to join her
beloved husband, who impatiently waited for
her coming. In a letter to her son upon this
subject, she says ; — " Mr. Wilson is now in
London. He cannot yet persuade his wife to
go, for all he hath taken this pains to come and
fetch her. I marvel what mettle she is made of.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 35
Sure she will yield at last, or else we shall want
him exceedingly in New England."
It is a strong proof of Mr. Wilson's zeal and
resolution in the path of duty, that he returned
to his flock, though unable to prevail with a
wife to whom he was tenderly attached to join
him in the way. He reached Boston the twen
ty-sixth of May, 1632. He took the freeman's
oath on the ensuing third of July. This latter
step evinced his fixed purpose to settle perma
nently in this country.
During that month, the congregation began to
erect their first house of worship. For this, and
for Mr. Wilson's dwelling-house, they made a
voluntary contribution of one hundred and twenty
pounds. Wilson's Lane, leading from State
Street to Dock Square, derives its name from
the parsonage which stood therein. The meet
ing-house stood near the corner of Exchange
and State streets. With its walls of mud, and
its low thatched roof, it was indeed an humble
structure to be the dwelling-place of the Most
High. But " though the Lord be high, yet
hath he respect unto the lowly." The Son of
God himself dwelt in a tabernacle of clay : and
when he arose from the dead, and ascended on
high, he glorified that mortal dust. It has been
the ordinary course of divine providence, " that

36 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
great endings should start from small begin
nings." Morton in his " New England's Me
morial," speaking of this very church, remark
ed ; — " Thus out of small beginnings greater
things have been produced by his hand that
made all things of nothing : and as one small
candle may light a thousand, so the light here
kindled hath shone unto many; yea, in some
sort, to our whole nation. Let the glorious
name of Jehovah have the praise in all ages."
In Governor Winthrop's journal, under the
date of the fifth of July, 1632, there is a curious
entry, which suits well to this connection, and
which is characteristic of the time when it was
penned.* " At Watertown, there was, in the
view of divers witnesses, a great combat between
a mouse and a snake ; and, after a long fight,
the mouse prevailed and killed the snake. The
pastor of Boston, Mr. Wilson, a very sincere,
holy man, hearing of it, gave this interpreta
tion : That the snake was the devil ; the mouse
was a poor contemned people, which God had
brought hither, which should overcome Satan
here, and dispossess him of his kingdom." Upon
the same occasion, he told the governor, that is
to say, Winthrop himself, " that, before he was

* Savage's Winthrop, I, 81 .

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 37
resolved to come into this country, he dreamed
he was here, and that he saw a church arise out
of the earth, which grew up and beoame a mar
velous goodly church."
Had our good Mr. Wilson lived among the-
Pharaohs, he would have been styled, like Jo*
seph, Zaphnath-paaneah, which is by interpreta
tion, " A revealer of secrets." His explanation
of the combat and his significant dream, must be
regarded as prophetic, if it be allov/ed that every
prediction which actually comes to pass, is a true
prophecy. Our fathers, no doubt, paid too much
attention to signs and omens of that futurity
which is so dark to all, but into which all are
prone to look with anxious and searching gaze.
It may be, that, in the explanation of the une
qual contest between the mouse and snake, Mr.
Wilson meant no more than to turn the incident
into an allegory. Men were formerly much de
lighted with such parables. The excellent Fla-
vel wrote one sizeable book called " Husbandry
Spiritualized," and another named " Navigation
Spiritualized," in both of which, those callings
are allegorically treated in a very ingenious and
instructive manner, without any thing like super
stition. The night-vision of the rising church
speaks for itself. It needs no " Belteshazzar " to
expound its import. To a thoughtful and imag-
vol. n. 4

38 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
inative man, without being at all regarded as a
special revelation, it might well seem to encour
age high expectation and strenuous effort. Many
instances are on record, of men of ardent piety
who, in difficult circumstances, have been guided
to happy issues by hints of this nature. Why
should it be deemed incredible, that He " who
heareth prayer " should in such ways intimate
his will, and lead the minds of his servants to
ward the best results ?
On the twenty-fifth of October, Mr. Wilson
with the governor, and a few other men of note,
set out on a friendly visit to the colony at Ply
mouth. Here they had a very generous and
hospitable reception, having gone in a pinnace
as far as Weymouth the first day, and traveled
the rest of the way the next day, in independent
style, on foot. On the Sabbath, a sacrament was
held, at which the guest's partook. In the after
noon a singular scene took place, which gives us
a view of the mode in which public worship was
maintained by the emigrants from Leyden. Rev.
Roger Williams, their teacher, proposed a ques
tion for consideration. The pastor, Mr. Ralph
Smith spoke briefly upon it. Then Mr. Wil
liams " prophesied," or explained upon it. Next
Governor Bradford of Plymouth, a learned man,
discussed the matter : and after him William

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 39
Brewster, the ruling elder, and also a man of
cultivated mind, continued the discussion. He
was followed by two or three of the brethren of
that church. Then the ruling elder, according to
a custom used in the synagogues in the time of
the apostles, called upon Governor Winthrop and
Mr. Wilson to speak to the point in hand, which
they severally did. The matter having been
thus thoroughly deliberated, the deacon, Samuel
Fuller, reminded the congregation of the duty of
contributing to the gospel. Upon this, Governor
Bradford, that "right worshipful man," goes to the
deacon's seat, and others after him ; and having
deposited their offerings in the bag, they returned
to their places. This religious exercise was origi
nally introduced by their revered John Robinson,
who grounded it upon the practice of the Christ
ians at Corinth, as described by Paul in his first
epistle to the church in that place. It was, after
a while, disused, as being peculiarly appropriate
only in an age when those who prophesied did
so by direct revelation from God. Such a prac
tice could hardly work to advantage, except in a
church where some of the brethren have the gift
of speaking to edification ; and the rest have the
rarer and richer gift of holding their peace.
There is great truth in the rabbinical proverb ;
— " Speech may be silver, but silence is gold."

40 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
On the Wednesday following the Sabbath just
described, the Boston company, having been
honorably entertained, and affectionately escorted
on their way out of Plymouth, set out for home
with great contentment. Governor Winthrop
returned in grander state than he went, on Gov
ernor Bradford's horse. In those slow and sure,
and steady times, as they plodded along their
w,eary way, we may be sure that " the Old Col
ony Railroad " was not in their thoughts.
The congregation at Boston held a solemn fast
on the 22d of November. This day Mr. Thomas
Oliver was chosen a ruling elder, and was or
dained by the laying on of the hands of the
teacher and the two deacons, in the name of the
congregation. Mr. Wilson, who had before been
ordained teacher, was now chose^n to be pastor of
the church, and was set apart to that office by
the imposition of hands of the ruling elder, and
the deacons. This circumstance confirms the
remark that was made in regard to Mr. Wilson's
installation as teacher, that our fathers did not
consider this ceremony of laying on of hands as
any renunciation of a ministry previously re
ceived. So they declared by express protestation
in the first instance; and in this second instance,
they manifest the same in practice, for it is cer
tain they had no thought of nullifying their own

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 41
act in the first. Undoubtedly both Paul and
Barnabas had been fully clothed with the minis
terial office, before the church at Antioch sent
them on their famous mission to Asia Minor :
and yet they were specially set apart to that work
by fasting and prayer, and laying on of hands
of certain prophets and teachers, certainly of no
higher rank than Paul and his companion.
During the first and second years, the Massa
chusetts colony received but small reinforcement
of numbers from the mother country. But in
1633, and for seven years after, the accessions to
its strength were very numerous and valuable,
and the new settlements spread themselves in all
directions. Among others who " were famous
in the congregation, men of renown," was Rev.
John Cotton. He was ordained, in the capacity
of teacher of the church, as colleague with Mr.
Wilson, on the fourth of September, 1633.
These luminaries shone together, though with
different colored rays, in the same conspicuous
sphere. If the teacher shone with more of bril
liance and illumination, the pastor glowed with
a warmer and more genial radiance.
Mr. Wilson's missionary spirit led him to ex
tend his labors to the destitute settlements which
were then springing up in what we may call
" the front-woods " of this forest-world. Thus,
4*

42 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
on the twenty-sixth of November, he went, by
special leave from his own congregation, to
Agawam, now called Ipswich, to preach to that
plantation, which was not yet furnished with a
minister. Here, notwithstanding the earliness
of the season, he was detained for some days
beyond his intention by the depth of the snow,
and the freezing of the river. Long and rigor
ous as our winters appear to us, the climate seems
to be much ameliorated from what it was in the
hard times of our fathers. This change has been
ascribed to the disafforesting of so large a part of
the continent, and laying the soil more open to
the sun.
The missionary efforts of Mr. Wilson extended
to the unevangelized savages. Johnson, of "won
der Twprking " memory, informs us, that " the
English at their first coming did assay and en
deavor to bring them to the knowledge of God :
and, in particular, the reverend, grave and godly
Mr. John Wilson, who visited their sick, and
instructed others as they were capable to under
stand him." From Johnson's further remarks,
it appears that the venerable pastor of Boston,
was the first protestant minister, who attempted
as he had opportunity, to impart the gospel to
the North American Indians. The.work was

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON- 43
soon after undertaken with great diligence and
success by the apostolic Eliot and others.
When our fathers came here, Sagamore John
or Wonohaquaham, was the chief to whom be
longed the territory about Charlestown, having
under him about thirty warriors. He was the
eldest son of the "squaw-sachem," whose second
husband was the priest Webcowet. In 1644, she
submitted, with several other chiefs, to the gov
ernment of the colony ; and agreed that the chil
dren of her subjects should be taught the Bible.
It is supposed that she died in 1667, at a great
age, blind and helpless, at a fort of the Nipmuks,
in consequence of ill-treatment from a hostile
party of the Narragansetts. Sagamore John's
father was the sachem Nanepashemet, who was
slain by the Tarrentines or Eastern Indians,
about 1619.
Sagamore John is spoken of in Charlestown
records, as a chief " of gentle and good disposi
tion," who gave leave to the emigrants from
Salem to settle in that place, then known as
Mishawum. From the first, he was friendly to
the English. In April and May of 1630, the
colonists were in great alarm because of a con
spiracy among most of the Indian tribes to cut
off the new settlements, beginning with an attack
upon Plymouth. The plot was exposed by

44 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
Sagamore John ; so that the English were ena
bled to break it up. He had ever been extremely
courteous to the English, and tried to learn their
language, and imitate their customs. Convinced
of the superiority of their religion, he even de
sired to adopt it, and live among them as a fellow
Christian : but was hindered by the bitter oppo
sition of the heathen Indians. In the year 1632
he was seized by a disease then most terrible,
and which has not lost all its terrors now, — the
small-pox. This fatal malady had never been
known among the natives before the arrival of
Europeans. Poor Sagamore John now sadly
lamented his want of decision. At his own
desire, he was removed among the English ;
and promised, if he recovered, to live with them,
and serve their God. He soon relinquished the
hope of recovery. " Now," said he, " I must
die. The God of the English is much angry
with me, and will destroy me. Ah, I was afraid
of the scoffs of the wicked Indians. Yet my
child shall live with the English, and learn to
know their God when I am dead." Mr. Wilson
visited this forlorn and perishing creature, and
with christian tenderness ministered to the wants
of his body and his soul. To his care the dying
chieftain committed his only child, saying; —
" Mr. Wilson is much good man, and much love

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 45
me." This son of the forest, once the savage
lord of these peopled hills, expired soon after, on
the fifth day of December. Governor Winthrop
says ; — " He died in a persuasion that he should
go to the Englishman's God." It may be, he is
known in a better world, as " the first fruits of"
New England " unto Christ."
He gave to the governor a good quantity of
wampumpeague, a sort of current-coin among the
Indians. It was composed of beads, made from
various colored marine shells, and often arranged
in very tasteful figures on belts, and other articles
of dress. In old times it served, in part, as a
currency in the dealings of the English with
each other, as well as with the Indians. The
dying sagamore gave gifts to several other Eng
lishmen : and took order for the payment of his
own debts, and the debts of his men. His will
was, that all the wampum and coats left, should
be given to his mother : and his land about
Powder-horn Hill, in Chelsea, which was proba
bly his usual residence, was to go to his son ;
and in case of his son's decease, it was to pass
to his brother George, the sachem of Naumkeag
or Salem, and ultimately the claimant of all the
domain of his father Nanepashemet.
Mr. Wilson cheerfully accepted his difficult
charge. He took into his family the fatherless

46 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
child, of whom we only know, that he was dead
some time, perhaps a considerable time, before
the eleventh of May, 1651, when his uncle
George petitioned the General Court for the land
conditionally left him by his brother. Almost
the whole tribe perished about the same time
with sagamore John, and with the same fell dis
ease. Mr. Maverick of Winnesimmet, who,
with his whole family, made the most honorable
exertions to relieve the sufferers, had the melan
choly task of burying thirty of them in one day.
Many of the orphan children were distributed
among families in the towns on the Bay : but
most of them died soon after of the same wasting
plague, which had proved so fatal to their pa
rents. But three of these poor children survived
to maturer age. One of them, taken by the gov
ernor, was called Know- God ; because it was
the Indians usual answer, when questioned on
the subject of their knowledge of a Supreme
Being: — "Me no know God."
Many of them, in their last sickness, owned
that the Englishmen's God was a good being ;
and professed a resolution to serve him, if life
should be spared. As to the cause of this im
pression, " it wrought much with them," writes
Winthrop., " that when their own people forsook
them, yet the English came daily, and minis-

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 47
tered to them : and yet few, only two families,
took any infection by it." How often has it
been found that a courageous benevolence is also
the safest. How often too has the key of kind
ness unlocked the heart which was firmly fast
ened against the entrance of force or persuasion.
Among the neighboring tribes, civilization and
religion went hand in hand. Mr. Wilson, with
three other ministers and some of the brethren,
visited the " praying Indians " at Nonantum in
1647, for the twofold purpose of instructing them
and supplying their necessities. Here they had
built with their own hands a house of worship
fifty feet by twenty-five, which Mr. Wilson says,
" appeared like the workmanship of an English
house wright."
Our fathers have been very unjustly taxed with
neglecting the spiritual welfare of the Indians.
Whoever informs himself as to the life and labors
of John Eliot, will see, that the charge is utterly
groundless : and that they labored in this field
with great zeal, perseverance and success. The
blessing of God has never rested on Indian mis
sions more largely than it did in their day.
They were, many of them, the more ready to
engage in this holy undertaking, in their eager
ness to disappoint the devil. For " finding it
difficult to account for the first peopling of the

48 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

western hemisphere, many in New England
ascribed it to the aid of the devil, who thought
by removing a part of the human race thither,
they would be forever placed out of the reach of
the gospel." This explanation will not seem to
us very plausible : but it has the poor merit of
being quite as much so as almost any that has
been propounded by the learned.
Our ancestors have been heavily charged with
injustice in dispossessing the Indians of the soil.
The Massachusetts settlers found the country,
in a manner, depopulated by a wasting pesti
lence which swept away some entire tribes,
about the year 1618. Most of the remnants of
the people were very few and feeble, who culti
vated but a very small portion of the country, of
which, by far the greater part lay waste, and
without inhabitant. King James' charter speci
fies this as one of the reasons for planting a
region, which our forefathers, in legal phrase,
called a " vacant domicile."
However contrary it may be to the prevailing
impression, it is still the fact, that the coming of
the pilgrims served to prolong the existence of
these enfeebled tribes. John Cotton has made
the following record ; — " The Indians in these
parts being by the hand of God swept away,
many multitudes of them, by the plague, the

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 49
manner of the neighbor-Indians is, either to des
troy the weaker countries, or to make them trib
utary ; which dangeT, ready to fall upon their
heads, in these parts, the coming of the English
hither prevented."* This explains why most of
the smaller bands were, from the first, disposed
to form close alliances with the white men ;
while the- more powerful tribes were disposed to
look with hostile aspect on these foreign protec
tors of the weak.
The treaty made with the Indians by William
Penn in 1682, has been extolled beyond measure
for the fairness and justice of its provisions.
And yet it differs in no important respect, from
all the treaties which the New England colo
nies had made long before, for similar purposes.
The earliest instructions sent from the mother
country to Endecot, upon the settling of Salem,
required him to extinguish the Indian title to the
soil on equitable terms. Though the title of
many of the Indian claimants to the tracts which
they ceded, was exceedingly dubious, yet the
settlers were always scrupulous in quieting such
claims, however slight the grounds on which
they were made. The late President, John
Adams, remarked that, in all his legal experience,

* Way of Congregational Churches cleared, p. 21,
VOL. II. 5

50 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
he never knew a land-title contested in the courts,
without its being traced up to the original pur
chase from the Indians. It cannot be pretended,
that the treaty for which Penn is so much
praised, made a compensation for the land ac
quired by him, more just and equal than what
the New England colonists bestowed in like
cases. There are no means of knowing what
consideration he gave for the territory he ob
tained. It cannot be said, that it was more or
less than what the pilgrims and their associates
were in the habit of giving.
We hear of large tracts, comprising perhaps,
whole townships now of great value, as being
bought of the savages for a sum so small as to
seem little better than nominal. At first, this
may appear like an unrighteous imposition on
the ignorance of the savage sellers. But it was
not so. The colonists paid for their land all
that it was worth at the time of the purchase.
In fact, it had no value, except what it was to
acquire under the change of ownership, by the
industry of the new occupants. It could not be
estimated at any fixed price, until it was subdued
and cultivated by the sturdy settlers who began
to make it what it is. The whole site of some
of the wealthiest cities in the United States, like
Cincinnati, Lowell and Rochester, were, each of

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 51
them, bought for a few thousands of dollars of
their American proprietors not many years ago.
But who thinks of reproaching the present own
ers on this account ? Their enterprise and
industry created a vast increase in the value of
the property : and it is but just, that they should
enjoy the work of their hands.
There is a further proof that our ancestors
paid for their land all that it was worth to its
former possessors. They sold it out to other
Europeans at prices equally insignificant. Much
of it was given away on condition of being set
tled within a limited time : for it was not worth
so much as the presence of another settler and
fellow-helper in the infant community. Even
after it was transferred from the hands of the
Indians to those of white men ; its value did not
begin to be enhanced till it was put into a way
of being turned from a wilderness to a fruitful
field. So late as the year 1716, in the old col
ony of Connecticut, more than one hundred and
seven thousand acres of land were sold for six
hundred and eighty-three pounds of New Eng-,
land currency ; which is at the rate of two cents
an acre. It is well known that in all new coun
tries, settlers are encouraged to come, at the out
set by donations of land, and sometimes by ad
ditional gratuities. This is clear proof that

52 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

their coming is a greater favor to the grantor,
than the gift of a farm is to the grantee, who, in
improving his lot, raises the value of all the
land around it. A little reflection will show
that the Indians suffered no injustice in the
terms on which they transferred their territory
to our fathers. It ill becomes the present gen
eration to reproach their ancestors upon this
point. Never did the Indians receive at the
hands of our fathers such treatment as they
have suffered from our people within the present
century. The removal of the Cherokees, if
there were no other case of the kind, may well
seal our lips to silence on this subject.
It is certain, that the conversion of the natives
to Christianity was one of the leading motives
which induced our fathers to engage in their
venturous enterprise on these shores. They
omitted no opportunity to instruct the " untutor
ed mind," in the worship o( God. The haughty
Miantonomoh, the sachem of the Narragansetts,
when he was the guest of the honored Win
throp, was the auditor of Mr. Wilson, in that
low-browed temple with its overhanging eaves
of thatch.
The Boston church was highly prospered
under Mr. Wilson and his colleague, John Cot
ton. Soon after the latter commenced his labors,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 53
there was a revival of religion, in which, among
other converts, " divers profane and notorious
evil persons were brought to experience the
power of religion." " Also the Lord pleased
greatly to bless the practice of discipline, where
in he gave the pastor, Mr. Wilson, a singular
gift, to the great benefit of the church." So
high was his repute in this particular, that the
renowned Dr. Ames is known to have said ; —
"If he might have his option of the best condi
tion he could propound unto himself on this side
heaven, it would be, that he might be the teacher
of a congregational church, whereof Mr. Wilson
should be the pastor.
In common with other leading ministers in
the colony, Mr. Wilson was often consulted by
the magistrates in difficult and important mat
ters. And so far as the ministerial counsels are
recorded, it is noticeable that, in all cases, they
strenuously maintained the chartered rights of
the colony. They favored no timid or half
way courses, no compliances or concessions,
which could impair their cherished liberties.
Sometimes the royal prerogative advanced to the
very verge of absolute sway, and demanded
instant surrender of the precious immunities of
the infant commonwealth. But the ministers
ever strengthened the hands of the magistrates to

54 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
cling to their charter with closer grasp. They
never advised open resistance, which must have
led to instant destruction ; but always suggested
plausible grounds of evasion; and proposed
grounds of delay, and protracted negotiation.
It is wonderful to observe how long these meas
ures availed, in conneation with favoring provi
dences, to preserve their patent from violation.
And when, at last, the treasure was wrested
away, it was found that the young community
had grown up to be strong enough to bear the
loss without fainting. The clergy cherished the
spirit of liberty among the people, as a religious
passion : and it wrought intensely, till it worked
out entire political independence.
There is a curious instance of the disposition
of our fathers to seek the counsel of the minis
ters in matters very foreign to their calling;
and which is related in Winthrop's Journal.
It seems there was reason to fear, that the
French were intending to become too near
neighbors. Among other precautions, it was
proposed to begin a plantation and fort at Nan-
tasket, to prevent the French from taking pos
session of that place. An expedition was got
up to view the spot, and decide what should
be done there. On the twenty-first of Feb
ruary, being a very sunshiny, vernal sort of day,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 55
the governor, and four of the assistants, and
three of the ministers, of whom Mr. Wilson was
undoubtedly one, with others, making twenty-
six in all, went to Nantasket in three boats.
While they were there, the wind suddenly
changed to the North-west, extremely cold, and
so violent as to detain them there two nights.
They had to lie on the ground in an open hut,
upon a little old straw pulled from the thatch.
They were forced to lie in a heap, to keep from
freezing : and to eat raw muscles, for want of
other fare. On the third day, they got safe
home ; having come to the conclusion, that it
was needless, for the present, to fortify a place
which was so sternly defended by the severity of
its climate.
Mr. Wilson returned to England, for the last
time, late in the fall of 1634. He sailed for
Barnstable, with John Winthrop, the younger,
in whom shone all the virtues of his father with
undiminished lustre. The ship was small and
weak, and they were repeatedly in imminent
danger of being wrecked. They were driven
by a tempest upon the perilous coast of Ireland,
with which no one in the ship was acquainted.
After escaping some desperate risks, they got
into Galloway. From this place, Mr. Winthrop
went by land to Dublin. Mr. Wilson proceed*

56 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
ing in the ship by sea, came within sight of the
mouth of the Severn, when another furious
storm drove his vessel back to Kinsale on the
Irish coast, where a number of vessels perished
in full view. Being thus forced to make some
stay in Ireland, both he and the governor's wor
thy son exerted themselves strenuously to pro
mote the interests of religion in New England,
wherever they came. At last they got safe
back among old friends in England, with hearty
and joyous welcome. Their travels extended
into Scotland and the north of England : and
wherever they went, they gave much satisfac
tion to Christian people about the prospects of
New England, and stirred up many to make it
their future home.
One object of Mr. Wilson's voyage was to
secure a legacy of a thousand pounds, which his
brother, the Rev. Dr. Wilson had bequeathed to
the colony. If this large bequest had been left
to our Boston pastor, he would have been no
better pleased. He was happy to see the country
benefited, though at the expense of his own in
heritance. This sum was laid out in procuring
artillery for the defence of Boston settlement.
The purchase of cannons may seem an unca-
nonical use of a clergyman's gift, which should
have thundered in the pulpit rather than on the

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 57
battery. But in those warlike and troublous
times, even men of God wielded either the civil
or the ecclesiastical sword, according to the na
ture of the dangers which assailed their beloved
flocks. They built the walls of Jerusalem, as
in Nehemiah's day, with the implements of labor
in their hands, and the weapons of defence
ready girded to their side.
On all occasions, Mr. Wilson held up the fa
vorable representations, which he had before sent
over in writing, of the admirable civil and relig
ious order which was now well settled in the
new plantation. He strove to engage as many
good men as he could in this great enterprise.
He had a joyful visit with his old parishioners,
at Sudbury, according to what he had intimated
when bidding them farewell previous to his last
voyage to America. " It may be," he said,
" John Wilson may come and see Sudbury once
again." He thus fulfilled this long indulged
desire of his affectionate heart, which clung
fondly to those scenes of former and successful
labor in the gospel. Such spots no servant of
God can ever forget, or cease to love. From
thence he went to visit the Rev. Nathaniel Rog
ers, who afterwards came to this country, and
lived and died as pastor of the church in Ips
wich. Mr. Wilson happened to arrive at his

58 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
friend's house just before morning prayers. He
was requested to offer some remarks upon the
chapter which was read, and which chanced to
be the first chapter of the First Book of Chroni
cles. Though it is a mere genealogical chapter,
made up of proper names, and apparently sug
gesting no matter for remark, the pious pilgrim-
guest soon showed that to a devoutly studious
mind "all Scripture is profitable." He com
mented on the passage with such pertinence and
fullness of edifying matter, that a good man,
who was present, was amazed, and could never
after rest till he had followed him to America.
But though so successful in directing the
steps of many excellent people toward this dis
tant land, he failed to persuade one who was
dearer to him than all. His wife long remained
unwilling to accompany him. The gentle
daughter of Sir John Mansfield was bound to
her native soil by clinging affections which not
all the power of conjugal love seemed likely to
loosen. Her discouraged husband made his last
appeal to Him who has all hearts in his hand,
to turn them as he will. On a day of fasting,
which he observed for this special object, his
many prayers were answered. His wife became
willing and cheerful to cross with him the wil
derness of waters to this wilderness of woods.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 59
Upon this, her kinsman, the good old Puritan
Dod, singularly renowned for wit and holiness,
sent her a curious present for her consolation.
It consisted of a brass counter, a silver crown,
and a gold jacobus ; each wrapped in a separate
envelop. The gentleman who carried it was
told to deliver first the brass counter ; and if, on
opening the envelop, she betrayed any discon
tent, he was to come away and take no further
notice of her. But if she accepted the trifle
kindly for the giver's sake, then he was to give
her, first the silver piece, and next the gold.
Lastly, by way of moral, he was to tell the
lady ; — " That such would be the dispensations
of God towards her, and the other good people
of New England : — if they would be content
and thankful with such little things as God at
first bestowed upon them, they should, in time,
have silver and gold enough." It is pleasant to
be able to state, that Mrs. Wilson so pleasantly
accepted what seemed such a trifling token of
remembrance from her good old friend, that the
gentleman delivered the more valuable parts of
the present, together with the annexed advice,
more precious than the present itself. Though
this prediction was uninspired, it has come to
pass. The wealth of the goodly cities, and
flourishing commonwealth of New England, is

60 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

God's reward of our father's piety, who " des
pised not the day of small, things," but were
humbly grateful for the least tokens of God's
provident bounty.
While Mr. Wilson was exerting himself in
England for the good of the people heTe, he was
not forgotten by them. On the thirteenth of
January, " the church of Boston kept a day of
humiliation for the absence of their pastor and
other brethren, gone to England, and like to be
troubled and detained there." The special
causes of this trouble and threatened detention
it is not now in our power to trace. They were
owing to that jealous and arbitrary spirit on the
part of the persecuting powers, which so often
prevented the embarkation of the emigrants.
Edward Johnson gives us the following account.
" Here, my endeared Reader, I must mind thee
of the industrious servant of Christ, Mr. John
Wilson, who this year landed the third time
upon this American shore from his native coun
try ; where now again, by the divine providence
of Christ, he narrowly escaped the hunters'
hands, being clothed in a countryman's habit,
passing from place to place, declared to the peo
ple of God what great works Christ had already
done for his people in New England, which
made many Christian souls long to see these

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 61
admirable acts of Christ, although it were not to
be enjoyed but by passing through an ocean of
troubles, voyaging night and day upon the great
deep, which this zealous servant of God had
now five times passed over."* The attempt to
prevent the Puritans from leaving the land of
oppression, was a policy fatal to its authors. In
forbidding the flight of these men, so deeply dis
affected toward the tyranny in Church and
State, it compelled them to stay at home, and
bend all the formidable energies of their minds
toward the overthrow of that despotism from
whose presence they might not depart. Thus
there were at one time in the river Thames,
eight sail of ships bound for New England ;
and crowded with Puritan passengers, among
whom were Oliver Cromwell, Sir Arthur Hasel-
rig, and John Hampden. An order in council
was despatched, which compelled them to come
on shore, and gird themselves for a contest, in
the course of which those men and their asso
ciates sent the king and his chief counselors to
the scaffold.
Having finished the business which brought
him to England, Mr. Wilson left his native
shores, as has been mentioned, for the third

* Wonder-working Providences, Chap. YXXII.
VOL. II. 6

62 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
and last time, and accompanied by his wife and
four children. There came two large ships in
consort, the Defence and the Abigail, with near
two hundred passengers ; many of them, persons
of estate and repute. Among them, besides
other ministers, was Thomas Shepard, after
wards the great luminary of the Cambridge
Church. There was also the no less famous
Hugh Peters, pastor of the English church at
Rotterdam, from whence he had been newly
driven by the persecutions of the British ambas
sador. Of his active life and tragical death, we
need say nothing. His character having been
only portrayed by his tatter foes, or such as
took their opinions from his foes, has suffered
extreme historic injustice. His only child be
came the wife of the younger Winthrop ; and
their descendants who yet live among us are
happy to be able to trace their lineage to men
neither noble nor priestly by the power of man ;
but yet " nobles, by an earlier creation, and priest's
by the imposition of a mightier hand."
This company sailed about the tenth of Au
gust, 1635. They had some rough weather, in
which the decayed and unseaworthy ship was
greatly endangered by a frightful leak, which
could not, for a while, be found. The devout
passengers betook themselves to their usual and

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 63
often successful resource. They held a day of
solemn fasting and prayer, in the course of
which, the cause of their danger was discovered
and removed, just as they were thinking of
going back. They arrived at Boston on the
third of October, 1635. The Church, concerned
that their pastor did not return so soon as they
expected, had appointed a humiliation day for
united prayer in his behalf. He arrived the
afternoon before, in season to turn the mournful
day, as reason required, into an extemporaneous
thanksgiving. As painful as was the final part
ing of himself and wife from endeared connec
tions at home, so joyful was their reception by
their expectant friends, who had been looking
for them here with longing eyes.
Soon after Mr. Wilson's return, the Antino-
mian controversy broke out, and raged for two
or three years with a fury that threatened the
destruction of his church. He with Governor
Winthrop, and a very few other members,
found themselves arrayed against Mr. Cotton,
and almost the entire body of the communicants.
All the neighboring churches sided with Mr.
Wilson. The excitement lasted till the mind of
Mr. Cotton, who had been imposed upon by the
seeming sanctity of the leaders in the disturb
ance, was disabused. By his vigorous nieas-

64 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
ures to repair his mistake, and the resolution of
the civil authority to expel the two leading An-
tinomians, quiet was at last restored. A synod
held at Cambridge conduced much to the res
toration of quiet. That body drew up a list of
the errors to be condemned. When it was
asked, what was to be done with them, the
zealous Mr. Wilson bluntly exclaimed ; — " Let
them go to the devil of hell, from whence they
came ! " This fiery outbreak may be more
easily excused in this " son of thunder," if we
consider the corrupt and demoralizing tendency
of the heresy in question. Of Antinomianism
an old writer says ; — " It ham-strings all indus
try, and cuts off the sinews of men's endeavors
towards salvation. For ascribing all to the
wind of God's Spirit, which bloweth where it
listeth, it leaveth nothing to the oars of man's
diligence." This controversy ran out into nice and com
plicated speculations, which are exceedingly
wearisome and well-nigh unintelligible. Almost
the only thing that relieves the painfulness of
this violent contest, is the fact that the church
retained as its ministers the heads of the oppos
ing parties. There appears to have been no
thought of removing either of them. There can
be no more striking proof of the prudence and

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 65
good temper of the ministers ; or of the modera
tion and reasonableness of the people, even
amid the tempest of excitement. Both Mr.
Wilson and his colleague suffered much re
proach, but lost not their benevolence and
charity. " Let narrow natures, how they will, mistake,
The great should still be good for their own sake."

6*

66 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

CHAPTER III.
Decision in religion not bigotry. Odium attached to bigotry.
Fathers of New England wrongfully reproached. Timid defences
of their memory. Veneration cherished for them. Bigolry not
confined to any class. President Edwards. Independence of char
acter frowned down. Spurious liberality. True liberality!* Wei-
gand Von Theben. Augustine. Dr. Owen. Thomas Fuller.
Characteristics of the Puritans. Their cheerfulness. Their shades
of difference. English Independents the main champions of toler
ation. Dr. Owen at Oxford. Dr. Goodwin. Alledged intolerance
in New England compared with actual intolerance elsewhere.
Mather to Lord Barrington. Object of the Pilgrims in emigrating.
Liberty for their own consciences. Injustice of disorganizing
intruders. Feelings of our fathers toward them. Hubbard. Ne
cessity in those times of banishing the turbulent and seditious.
W. Stoughton. Governor Winthrop. Katharine Chidley. Special
necessity for excluding Church of England men. Hon. Josiah
Quincy. The first author of free toleration. United Provinces of
Holland. Henry Jacob. London Baptists. The Puritans, like
Shakspeare, to be tried by the standard of their own age,
D'Israeli. Macaulay. Puritan administration compared with that
of Henry VIII., Elizabeth, &c. Bartholomew Act. English laws
against absence from public worship. Virginia laws. Temper of
Roger Williams. Windmill on fire. Peculiar opinions of Williams.
Necessity of his exclusion Williams and Gorton. Hon. J. Q.
Adams. Origin of the Baptists. Fears of the Puritans. Law of
1644. Declaration of 1646. Peaceable Baptists never molested.
Speedy and entire toleration. Abusive Quaker pamphlets. Bishop
Burnet. Rhode Island treatment of Quakers. Misdeeds of the
Quakers. Would be punished for such conduct at the present day.
History of proceedings. Quaker treatment of Williams. Reflec
tions on the whole subject.
In the character of Mr. Wilson there was a
singular mixture of qualities. Although there

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 67
have been many other examples of this mixture,
and although it is required by the gospel to be
in every believer, yet there are many who are
unable to comprehend the possibility of it. Mr.
Wilson blended an intense love of truth with as
intense a hatred of error. He abhorred the
error, and loved the errorist, with equal fervor.
In our day, such a character is not easily under
stood. Every man is now regarded as a relent
less bigot, who is not an easy liberal, believing
that one man is as likely to be right as another,
and who attaches no importance to abstract
principles, whether true or erroneous.
Mr. Wilson combined a most compassionate
and loving nature, with a flaming zeal for
orthodoxy. His dread of false doctrines and
their practical influence was extreme. He
would have had all the power of the magistrate
exerted for their suppression and exclusion.
Had it been possible, he would have drawn a
sanitary cordon around the colony, established
a theological quarantine, and sternly prohibited
the smuggling in of infectious heresies. And
yet the benevolence of his heart was most ex
panded, and glowed with pity to the mistaken
men whose errors he anathematized without
mercy. In this respect, he was one of the best speci-

68 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
/
mens of our Puritan fathers, who were so
enamored of the truth, that they watched over
its purity with all the fire of passion and all the
jealousy of love. Their zeal impelled them to
lift at once the sword at the first advances of its
assailants. Not every bosom is capable of feel
ing this fervid sentiment. They felt it : and it
filled them with the spirit of power. Had they
not felt it, they would have had no nerve to
accomplish their mighty deeds.
" The laboring bee, when his sharp sting is gone,
Forgets his golden work, and turns a drone ;
Such is their nature, if you take away
That generous rage wherein their noble vigor lay."
It ought to be conceivable, that love to man
may make us hate what is hurtful to man. To
love him, is to hate that which injures him ; and
to hate it the more, the more injurious it
may be.
" It is thy skill
To strike the vice, but spare the person still :
As he, who, when he saw the serpent wreathed
About his sleeping son, and as he breathed
Drink in his soul, did so the shot contrive,
To kill the beast, but keep the child alive."
Happy indeed is he, who can boldly lift his
hand, and strongly strike at error, from feelings
of pure benevolence toward such as may be its
victims. Thrice happy is he of whom it may
be justly said,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 69
" That malice never was his aim ;
He lashed the vice, but spared the name."
Though Mr. Wilson was in England when
Roger Williams was banished, he yet approved
the sentence as necessary and wholesome. In
the expulsion of Mrs. Hutchinson, he fully con
curred, as also in the exclusion of the Quakers
at a later period. As he and his associates have
been more universally and bitterly condemned
for these measures than for any other of their
actions, we will here, once for all, look to see
what may be offered in their defence. We shall
vindicate them as far as they may, and ought to
be vindicated.
It is one evident mark of the progress of the
human mind, and of the advancement of society
in the knowledge of human rights, that religious
bigotry and intolerance have come to be held in
general reprobation. To be charged with such
fault is now regarded as one of the darkest
accusations which can be brought against the
living or the dead.
There be many who, for selfish purposes, are
ever ringing and resounding this odious charge
against our pilgrim fathers. The most studious
efforts are made to depict them as " the chief of
sinners" in this respect, as a race of " graceless
bigots," and remorseless persecutors. In our

70 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
days, their enemies have mostly had the telling
of the story. The haters of their memory and
their sentiments have risen up, and ransacked
every garret, and raked into every old cellar, to
find matter wherewith to asperse their charac
ters. These literary scavengers have plunged
into forgotten reservoirs of slander, and have
come out reeking with the antiquated filth, and
have steeped themselves in obsolete infamy, in
the vain hope of being able to pour lasting ob
loquy on the reputation of our holy and vener
ated dead. Musty pamphlets have been recalled
from just oblivion. There has been a general
resurrection of old publications, some of which
died of their own inborn venom, and others
dropped dead-born from the presses which gave
birth to these abortive slanders. These writings
were chiefly penned by bitter foes, and most of
the authors of them were smarting under right
ful punishment inflicted by the Puritans. From
these sources have been culled every railing
accusation, every calumnious fabrication, every
disingenuous, wrested and falsified statement of
things, which can be made to bear hard upon
the memory of men of whom, in truth, the
world was not worthy. All these assertions;
which, in the time when they were first made,
our fathers either refuted in full, or deemed too

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 71
absurd and contemptible for refutation, are now
eagerly retailed by our modern venders of anti-
puritanical slander, as if every word must be
unquestionable truth. The partisan statements
of maddened opposers are recited over and over
again, without the least apparent misgiving as
to their total inaccuracy and want of candor.
Whatever can be picked up that makes against
the pilgrims, is given out again as true of
course, without farther inquiry.
This mode of procedure has gone on so long,
that even many who cherish the names of our
fathers with deep and affectionate respect, are
not uninfluenced by these one-sided and wrong-
sided declarations. Such persons will begin
with almost angrily denouncing them as perse
cutors, and for a while are " outrageously vir
tuous " in their condemnation of such infringe
ment of the rights of conscience. Having thus
pacified with this high-seasoned sop, the irritated
public sentiment of the day, they take another
step. They suggest that our fathers went with
the current of their times, were no worse than
their contemporaries, and that if we had lived
in " those times of ignorance" on the subject of
toleration, we have no reason to think that we
should have acted any better than they. Pres
ently we are told, that our fathers acted accord-

72 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
ing to the light they had; and though, its
dimness misled them, they were conscientious
and sincere in the steps they took. At last it is
pretty plainly hinted, that unhappy circumstances
constrained them to pursue the course they did ;
and that, taking every thing into view, it is not
easy to see how they could have done any
differently without exposing themselves and
their cause to destruction. Such is substanti
ally the way in which the subject is disposed of
by Rev. Charles Emerson, and other later
writers. They begin by viewing the subject
according to the ideas of the present age, and
speak the language of violent reprobation. But
the longer and closer they examine it, the cooler
does their indignation become, till they reach
their natural temperature.
" The calmer grown for so much anger spent,
As is the case with rash and passionate men."
Such critics are often heard to say ; —
" Surely there have never been better or more
useful men than our ancestors ; but alas, the
best of men have their faults ! it is a pity that
they were so uncharitable and intolerant." And
yet our forefathers, who abounded in every kind
of good sense, did not regard themselves as
justly obnoxious to this condemnation. It ought

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 73
to be considered, that there is another side to
the story, which may wear a very different
aspect when the whole truth shall come out.
That our fathers sometimes erred, we shall
frankly acknowledge : for it is the lot of poor
humanity to present some weak spots in her
strongest specimens, some blots on her fairest
copies. But in their case, it will be found that
a fair and equitable distribution of the blame
will take off the greater part of what has been
heaped upon them ; and put it back where it
properly belongs, — even on the shoulders of
those whom they are said to have persecuted.
It is a matter of high satisfaction, that the char
acter of the pilgrims still stands so elevated in
the minds of their descendants. Throughout
New England, with the exception of a few
degenerate renegades, their memory is held in
the greatest veneration. As you leave New
England, the farther South or West you go, the
less^will you find of this filial regard for the first
settlers of the soil. And when you come to
those countries first subjugated and colonized by
other nations, you will find the people even ab
horring the memory of their sires. Thus in
1823, the patriot mob in Mexico, in their detes
tation of the old Spaniards, " prepared to break
open the tomb which held the ashes of Cortes,"
VOL. II. 7

74 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
the founder of that community, and to scatter
them to the winds. The authorities declined
to interfere on the occasion ; but the friends of
the family, as is commonly reported, entered the
vault by night, and secretly removed the relics.*
The great traveler Humboldt informs us, that
we may traverse the whole length of Spanish
America, and in no quarter shall we meet with
a national monument which the public gratitude
has raised to Christopher Columbus, or Her
nando Cortes. t How different is the case with
the sons of New England ! With what filial
enthusiasm do they maintain the renown of
their fathers ! The children pay an ample trib
ute of love and gratitude to the illustrious
parents of the commonwealth, to whom we are
indebted for our most valued institutions, our
dearest social privileges, and our best traits of
national character. Of this generous homage,
not all the reproach of their malignant adversa
ries has been able to deprive them.
As the matter seems not to be properly under
stood, it may be well to say what bigotry is. It
is such a blind attachment to our opinions as
would force others to embrace the same; or
would hate and injure them if they will not be

* Prescott. Conquest of Mexico, III. 350.
t Essai Politique, II. 60.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 75
so forced. The matter is well expressed by
Macaulay ; — " The doctrine which, from the
very first origin of religious dissensions, has
been held by all bigots of all sects, when con
densed into a few words, and stripped of all
rhetorical disguise, is simply this, — I am in the
right, and you are in the wrong ; when you are
the stronger, you ought to tolerate me, for it is
your duty to tolerate truth; — but when I am
the stronger, I shall persecute you ; for it is my
duty to persecute error.*'
The persecuting spirit is an essential element
of bigotry, and its ruthless oppressions have been
deplorable indeed. It has made itself " drunk
with the blood of the saints," and in the mad
ness of that intoxication has reveled in the
agonies of the martyrs. The truths which such
people hold seem only to confirm them in their
phrenzy : like monomaniacs, in whom their
sanity only strengthens their insanity. They
who are hurried away by this terrible passion
will perpetrate any atrocity in the sacred names
of love and goodness; and seem, in the ener
getic phrase of Sir Walter Scott, to have
invented " a new way of going to the devil for
God's sake."
Nor do we find this odious vice of the mind
confined to any class of men. There is a bigotry

76 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
of liberality, as well as a bigotry of illiberality.
We have seen attempts strenuously made to
compel people into free discussion, and force
them into free inquiry. And a century ago,
President Edwards thus uttered his complaints;
— " I have observed that these modern fashion
able opinions, however called noble and liberal,
are commonly attended, not only with a haughty
contempt, but an inward malignant bitterness of
heart, toward all the zealous professors and de
fenders of the contrary "spiritual principles, that
do so nearly concern the vitals of religion, and
the power of experimental godliness. I have
known many gentlemen, especially in the min
istry, tainted with these liberal principles ; who,
though none seem such warm advocates as they
for liberty and freedom of thought, or condemn
a narrow and persecuting spirit so much as
they ; yet, in the course of things, have made it
manifest, that they themselves had no small
share of a persecuting spirit."* It is quite cer
tain, that were the excellent president now
alive, he would have abundance of occasion to
renew his complaints.
The spurious liberality of these times will
allow a man to be decided only in one way, that

* Works, I. 514. N. Haven Ed,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 77
is, in its own favor. It tells you, that you must
seek for the truth ; but you must never feel sure
that you have found it. You must not say ; — " I
have sought the truth of God with humble dili
gence, and, by his blessing, have found it." For
people will turn upon you and ask ; — " What !
do you say, that you are certain you are right ?
In so saying you condemn all who think differ
ently from you. Do you mean to say, that you
are right, and all others are wrong ? " Perhaps
you dare answer ; — " I concede to others the
same privilege of forming their own opinions I
claim for myself : but assured as I am, that I
am right, of course, I must think that such as
embrace opposite views are wrong. If I am
right, they are in error : and so deeply as I am
convinced in my soul that I am right, even so
deeply must I feel that they are in error."
Now if you should be honest and decided
enough to answer in this reasonable manner,
the liberal public would cry out against you ;-^
" Away with this bigot, who pretends no body
is right who does not think as he does ! "
The tyranny of public sentiment now-a-days,
insists that we shall allow that one man is just
as likely to be right as another. It allows me to
say; — "I believe my opinions are correct:" —
provided, I will own that opinions precisely the
7*

78 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
reverse of mine are quite as likely to be correct.
Thus are we only permitted to believe as though
we believed not ; to know, as though we neither
knew, nor could know. Thus are we required
to stultify ourselves, and put on the fool's cap, by
affecting to assent to a flat contradiction and utter
impossibility. We must profess to be fully as
sured that we have the truth : and to be as well
assured that we may be altogether deluded. If
we will not agree to this absurdity, we are
denounced at once as uncharitable, censorious,
arrogant, bigoted, and intolerant.
Now what is this, but to require a universal
Skepticism ? What is it, but to declare that the
certainty of truth is unattainable ? What is it,
but to assert that the man who imagines that
white is black, is, in all probability, as near right
as I am, who am positive that white is whiter
and not black ? How can a character for manly
independence, truthful sincerity, and energetic
decision, be formed under these preposterous
dogmas of the spurious and abusive liberalism
now in vogue.
No wonder that persons who entertain such
sentiments should look upon our fathers as
unmitigated bigots. Our fathers were not of
their sort. They scorned such enervating incon
sistencies. Our fathers were decided men.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 79
They searched for the truth in earnest. And
when they had found it, they held it firm ; not
wavering in the presence of errorists, nor flinch
ing before the frowns of the despot. Strong in
this christian grace of decidedness, they were
valiant for the truth, and endured unequaled
sufferings, and achieved incomparable success.
It matters not how firm and uncompromising
a man may be in holding to his opinions. This
will not make him a bigot, provided he still
have his mind open to conviction, and manifest
no animosity against those whom he cannot con
strain to agree with him. Decision of character
is totally different from bigotry ; though many
there' be, who cannot see the difference. It is
far easier to persuade decided people to embrace
a truth they have once opposed, than to produce
the same effect upon the irresolute and unstable.
" 'Tis easiest dealing with the firmest mind,
More just when it resists, and when it yields, more kind."
How vain is the attempt to bring about a
forced uniformity of opinions. So diverse are
the minds of men as to temper, breeding, habit
and prejudice, that the attempt must be as vain
as to reduce them all to the same stature and
complexion of body. This matter was once
quaintly illustrated by Weigand von Theben,the

80 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
facetious parson of Calembergi who, some cen
turies since, was a great favorite with Otho,
archduke of Austria. This strange genius once
took a basket full of skulls to the top of a moun
tain, and emptying it there, exclaimed, as he
saw them roll down, each pursuing a different
course ; — " So many heads, so many opinions !
If they do thus when they are dead, what would
they have done had they been alive ?"
The Puritans were indeed remarkably decided
in their ways: but they rejoiced in all new light,
if it deserved the name, let it shine from what
quarter it might. They expected n"o new reve
lations : but they did expect, like John Robin
son, that God would cause more light to break
forth from his Word. Accordingly we find that
there was scarcely any man of distinction among
them but what, like Robinson, he changed his
views upon important matters as he increased in
years and knowledge. Of all the writings of
Augustine, scarce any are so creditable to his
piety, wisdom and firmness of mind, as his Con
fessions and Retractations. That leading Puritan,
Dr. John Owen, said in his reply to Daniel
Cawdry; — " He that can glory, that, in fourteen
years, he hath not altered nor improved his con
ception of some things of no greater importance
than that mentioned, shall not have me for his

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 81
rival." It was said by that good conforming
Puritan, Thomas Fuller, with his usual felic
ity; — " To live, and not to learn, is to loiter, and
not to live. Confession of our former mistakes
is the honorable trophy of our conquest over our
own ignorance." " It is a conquest to submit to right,
Nor so to yield think it the least despite."
As the race of Puritans was scattered along
from the morning twilight of the protestant re
formation to the brightness of its noon-day, they
could not but experience a great improvement of
their views, attended with much diversity as
to the lights and shades of their opinions.
It is a great delusion to imagine, as many
seem to do, that our fathers were all fashioned
of the same molten mass of opinion and senti
ment, and run in the same mould with cast-iron
faces, hard and grim, which never relaxed into
a smile of mirth or tenderness. Nay, to read
some of their satirical pamphlets, such as " The
Simple Cobbler," and many others, we might even
suspect that they loved a good joke occasionally
only too well. The truth is, they were full-
blooded Englishmen : and their character was
marked with a broad streak of nationality. They
had all the British hardihood of endurance and

82 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
perseverance, as well as scrupulosity of con
science and tenacity of right. With this they
had a due share of that hearty, cheery temper
which belongs to the Anglo-Saxon composition,
and which gets through troubles by keeping up
a good heart and making light of them. It was
this that helped to reconcile them here in the
wilderness to their coarse and scanty meals. It
was a saying often in their mouths at such
times ; — " Brown bread with the gospel is very
good fare !" They were mostly of the middle
class of English: a people of whom a foreign
traveler long since said, that they were like a
barrel of their own beer, of which the top is froth ;
the bottom, dregs ; but the middle is a strong,
substantial liquor. Belonging to this " middling
interest," our fathers partook of its best peculiar
ities. It is not the nature of such men, when
pious and intelligent, and such our fathers
unquestionably were, to be blind and brutish
bigots. The English Puritans were arrayed in several
divisions. Of the state Puritans, or political
reformers, whose whole endeavor was to carry
out the most free and liberal construction of the
British constitution, we have no occasion here to
speak. Of those who studied to accomplish a thorough

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 83
reformation of religion, there were some strong
prelatists, who were never separated from the
hierarchal establishment. They conformed to
practices which, nevertheless, they struggled to
abolish. Then, at the other extreme, were the rigid
separatists, like Roger Williams, who not only
abjured all connection with the national church,
but renounced the communion of all who would
not denounce their former relation to that church,
and partaking in its worship, as a crime requir
ing repentance and open confession. This class,
which was called Brownist, Barrowist, and other
uncouth names, was never very numerous, nor
was it of long continuance.
Between the conforming Puritans and the
Separatists, were the Presbyterians and the Con
gregationalisms. The Presbyterians were for a
modified hierarchy, with a large mixture of the
popular element. The sentiments of the Con-
gregationalists are too well known to need
description here. The latter are often confounded
with the Separatists or Brownists, though they
abundantly protested against being so regarded,
and vigorously controverted matters with the
separating brethren. The Congregationalists are
also sometimes confounded with the Presbyteri
ans ; although the distinction was broad enough

84 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
in those days, when the Presbyterians first
hurled the king and his prelates from their seats
of power ; and then were themselves ejected by
Cromwell and the Independents. No man will
ever suppose, that these two parties were but
one, after he has read the tremendous1 invectives
of Cawdry and Edwards against the Congrega-
tionalists, and the intensely passionate retorts of
the poet Milton and other Independents. During
the interregnum, the Presbyterians, when the
dominant party, said ; — " It seems to us that the
Independent brethren desire liberty, not only for
themselves, but for all men." Hence they call tol
eration, "the great Diana of the Independents."*
Dr. John Owen, a leading Congregationalist,
was made vice-chancellor of Oxford University,
by the Protector Cromwell. No man ever filled
that place who, for piety and learning, was more
meet for it than Dr. Owen. Many foreign
divines, who had read his Latin works, learned
the English tongue merely to have the benefit of
reading his voluminous publications in his native
language. During his government of that seat
of science, he would not suffer the members of
the old prelatic church in his near vicinity to
be disturbed in their worship, which they were
* Bogue and Bennett's History, I, 138.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 85
seeking to carry on in secret. The numerous
church-livings in his gift, he presented to the
Presbyterians. At that time, Dr. Thomas Good
win was President of Magdalen College, in
Oxford, where he formed a Congregational
church, in which the celebrated Theophilus
Gale, a distinguished benefactor of Harvard
College, was a member, as was also the equally
celebrated Stephen Charnock. John Howe, well
worthy to be mated with these famous divines,
was a member of the same College, and agreed
with them in sentiment. When asked by Dr.
Goodwin, why he did not join their church, Mr.
Howe replied ; — " Because you lay more stress
upon some peculiarities than I approve ; if you
will admit me upon catholic principles, I will
gladly unite with you." It is a sufficient proof
of the liberal and tolerant spirit of these men,
that he was received at once upon his own terms.
It would be easy to multiply proofs that the
Congregationalists, when they had the power in
England, though they were decided Calvinists,
and root-and-branch reformers, manifested a
freedom from bigotry and intolerance wholly un
exampled in their times. But we must pass on
to discuss the accusations alledged against their
department in the early days of New England.
And here we may as well remark at the out-
VOL. 11. 8

86 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON,

set, that what has been unjustly regarded as the
reign of intolerance in New England, was nei
ther severe, nor was it of long continuance.
There is a letter written by Dr. Cotton Mather,
doubtless to Lord Barrington, and dated the fourth
of November, 1718. Here it is stated ; — " That
no church upon earth at this day so notably
makes the terms of communion run parallel with
the terms of salvation, as they are made among
this people. The only declared basis for union
among them is that solid, vital, substantial piety,
wherein all good men, of different forms, are
united. And Calvinists with Lutherans, Pres
byterians with Episcopalians, Pedobaptists with
Anabaptists, beholding, one another to fear God
and work righteousness, do with delight sit down
together at the same table of the Lord ; nor do
they hurt one another in the holy mountain."*
Let us first ask for the errand which brought
our fathers across the water. With what object
in view did they brave the perils of the deep in
that day of comparatively unskillful navigation ?
Why left they a country, which they loved with
an almost idolizing passion ? Why did they
part with the comforts of their English homes,

* Coll. Mass. Hist. Soc., First Series, I., 105,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 87
to plant their cheerless cottages in a savage wil
derness of rigorous clime ?
Did they come and subdue the uncultivated
wastes, with the intention of opening an asylum
for all sorts of opinions, and a refuge for all sorts
of characters ? Nay, verily, they had no notion
of any such Quixotical knight-errantry. It was
far from their thoughts to establish a general re
ceptacle for all manner of disorganizers, innova
tors, and rash experimenters in social reforms.
Their tremendous personal sacrifices were not
made for the purpose of clearing a space where
every kind of sectarians, fanatics, enthusiasts
and moral revolutionizers might rush in like
winds from all quarters, and keep up an ever
lasting whirlwind of excitement. How ground
less, then, the charge of inconsistency so loudly
urged against them, because, though they fled
from intolerance at home, they were not tolerant
here of every interloping vagrant who strove to
force himself into their community, for the sake
of destroying all that the pilgrims had toiled and
suffered to establish. It would seem that some
sympathy is due to our fathers, who anxiously
watched over the institutions they had founded
at such fearful cost to themselves, and longed to
preserve from the ruthless hands of disturbers
and destructives. With what anguish did they

88 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
see the wild boar out of the woods, endeavoring
to uproot the tender vine which they had plant
ed with such care, and to water which they had
poured out their prayers and tears, their blood,
and their very souls ! What wonder, if, in the
desperation of their grief, they assailed the
dreaded intruder with arrows and lances ! They
felt it to be a cruel persecution upon them, to be
followed into their sad retreat, by those who
were eager to thwart their last hope for them
selves and their whole posterity.
And what was their mission to these stern
and rocky shores, these rough and woody soli
tudes ? What was the grand design so dear to
their hearts, and so precious in their eyes, and
which they prized so much above home, and
friends, and life itself ?
It was their cherished object to establish a
Christian Commonwealth. They wished to
model the frame of their Church and their State
after the principles of the Bible, and according
to the free spirit of Christianity, as they under
stood the matter. And this they had an un
doubted right to do, so long as they interfered
with no previous enterprise, or pre-existing set
tlements. Truly this was a noble object. The plan was
original, vast and comprehensive ; and exceed-

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 89
ingly difficult to be carried into execution. In
the infancy of their enterprise, the least unto
ward event might have made shipwreck of their
expectations : and there is every reason to be
lieve, that, had they been less peremptory and
resolute in their treatment of those who came
among them to oppose them, their whole under
taking would have proved a disastrous failure.
With extreme difficulty, our fathers obtained
a royal charter, which gave them the powers
necessary to effect their object. As free born
subjects of the British crown, they claimed the
protection of the monarch who claimed allegiance
of them. Under that protection, they exercised
the invaluable rights of electing their own mag
istrates, and enacting their own laws. It is
true, that they restricted the privilege of becom
ing freemen or citizens to members of the
churches which they had formed on the New
Testament plan. But for this a very good and
sufficient reason can be assigned. The charter
was obtained for a specific purpose ; namely,
the founding of a Christian Commonwealth ac
cording to their own views of what the Bible
taught. Now under the charter, the freemen
were the corporators, to whom pertained the
duty of carrying the intention of the charter into
effect. How evident then the propriety of pro-

90 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

viding, that those corporators, so far as might
be, should understand that intention, and cor
dially befriend it. And this, in general, could
only be expected at that time from the members
of the Church.
What company of men, having obtained an
act of incorporation for the purpose of mutual
insurance, would allow persons to become stock
holders who avowed the design of turning the
whole affair into a manufacturing concern ?
Who would blame the original undertakers for
resisting to the utmost, such a gross perversion
of their chartered rights ? Each restless spirit
who came here to trouble our fathers, knew per
fectly well with what object they had pitched
their tents upon this unpromising soil. And if
that object was unacceptable to such restless
natures, why, were they so ungenerous as to
take advantage of the supposed weakness of our
fathers ? If they wished to set up some differ
ent sort of commonwealth, why thrust themselves
in where others had pre-occupied the ground,
and laid out so much toil and expense upon it ?
Such intrusion was needless, injurious and cul
pable. Surely the new world was wide enough
for a thousand independent expieriments of the
kind, all disconnected from each other. Our
fathers regarded these aggressors upon their

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 91
rights very much as we might regard some law
less squatter, who should raise his log hut in the
very midst of our home-lot which we had pur
chased, cleared and enclosed. And if they gave
the unruly encroachers notice to quit, it was no
more than any body would do to-day, under sim
ilar circumstances.
One of our older historians thus presents the
matter; — " The inhabitants of the place having
purchased the country for themselves, they ac
counted it. an unreasonable injury for any to
come presumptuously, without license or allow
ance, to live amongst them, and to sow the seeds
of their dangerous and perverse principles
amongst the inhabitants, tending to the subver
sion of all that was good, whether sacred or
civil ; and therefore thought themselves bound
to hold out the sharp, against any that should
attempt, without leave, to thrust themselves
amongst them : which renders them that obsti
nately and willfully would do so, felones de se,
like them that will break into a man's dwelling
house, whether he will or no."*
This colony, at the outset, was a voluntary
association for a special purpose. No one en
tered into it, except by his own choice and de-

*flBbbard'« Hist, Chap. LXVL

92 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

sire, and with a full understanding of the object
to be attained. And it is a settled maxim of the
common law, that every voluntary association
has the right of prescribing its own terms of
admission and membership. If any one should
dislike the conditions, they are no ways unjust
as to him. Let him either stay away, or join
some other association constructed on principles
which accord with his own.
That our forefathers, in the first days of their
republic, should exclude from their society all
disaffected and turbulent characters, is to be re
garded as an act of self-defence, rather than as
an aggression upon those whom they expelled.
Thus in the sentence of banishment passed upon
the insidious Anne Hutchinson, this very reason
is given for her banishment, that she was a per
son unfit for their society : — that is, unfit to be
a member of their body politic, whose existence
was endangered by her residence among them.
They sent her off, not by way of punishing her
corrupt sentiments or disorderly practices against
the peace of the country : but for their own se
curity, and the preservation of the state of things
they had risked and sacrificed so much to estab
lish. With them it was a struggle between life
and death. And, by a dire necessity, they must
maintain their ground or die. They had not

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 93
then a social state so thoroughly organized and
settled down in a fixed condition, having strength
to stand safe against all the earthquakes and
hurricanes of revolution. No : in their weak,
unsteady plight, they were reasonably alarmed
at disturbances and commotions which, now that
we are strong and well fenced, only excite the
contemptuous smile of conscious security. That
our ancestors took this view of the case, is quite
certain. It was said by one who was afterwards
a worthy governor of the colony, but then one
of its excellent ministers ; — " Certainly a weaker
body cannot, ought not, to do that, or suffer that
upon itself, or in itself, upon the account of char
ity to another, which a stronger body may, and
in some cases may be bound to do or suffer."*
When Governor Winthrop was called in ques
tion by numerous members of the Boston Church,
for his agency in the banishment of the antino-
mians, he first made an effectual protestation
against being made answerable to the Church
for his official acts as a magistrate, though re
sponsible for his private conduct as a man. But
for the satisfaction of weaker brethren, he con
descended to justify his course by several rea
sons. In doing this he alluded to the following

* W. Stoughton's Election Sermon, 1668, p. 33.

94 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

clause in his oath of office; — "In all causes
wherein you are to give your vote, &c, you are
to give your vote as, in your judgment and
conscience, you shall see to be most for the pub
lic good." " And so for his part," he adds, "he
was persuaded that it would be most for the
glory of God, and the public good, to pass sen
tence as they did. He saw, that those brethren
were so divided from the rest of the country in
their judgment and practice, as it could not
stand with the public peace, that they should
continue amongst us. So, by the example of
Lot in Abraham's family, and after Hagar and
Ishmael, he saw they must be sent away."*
His explanations seem very satisfactory now, as
they were, at the time when made, to those for
whom they were designed. So true was the
remark which Winthrop elsewhere made about
the Boston people ; — " They were generally of
that understanding and moderation, as that they
would be easily guided in their way by any rule
from Scripture or sound reason."
Much light is shed upon this subject by a
pamphlet of eighty-one quarto pages, published
in 1641, by Katharine Chidley.t It is entitled,

* Journal I. 250.
t See an account of the tract in Hanbury's Memorials, II. 112.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 95
" The Justification of the Independent Churches
of Christ." It was written in reply to one whom
Milton has doomed to everlasting fame as " shal
low Edwards," often mentioned also as " Gan
grene Edwards." He had asserted, that the
New England men " will not give a toleration
for any other ecclesiastical government or church
es." In her reply, Mrs. Chidley tells him,
among other things, that if it had been so, it
was because they had, in England, taken upon
them the oath of conformity. She then goes on
to argue, that her co-religionists in New Eng
land were afraid, that, if they suffered any noto
rious disorders and dangerous sects to spring up
among them, they should be summoned to Lon
don to answer for their negligence. It had been
a grand charge against Congregationalism, that
the laxity of its discipline opened the door for all
manner of irregularities and fanatical explosions.
It had been so often and so reproachfully alledged,
that this was the tendency of their system, that
our fathers had a natural sensitiveness upon the
subject, and felt constrained to put down every
thing among themselves which was likely to
give currency to this charge. Knowing how
closely they were watched for some pretence to
deprive them of their colonial privileges, they
trembled lest sects should arise in the midst ol

96

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

them, whose numbers, outbreaks and extrava
gances might furnish the adversaries with a
plea for destroying the whole enterprise.
Our fathers sundered the heart-strings of at
tachment which tied them to the home and
-friends of their youth, and fled into the wilder
ness from the dragon of persecution to obtain
liberty for their own consciences ; and not for
all other consciences, however unconscionable
and perverted.
Why should they have been tolerant of the
Church of England men who straggled in among
them, when they knew that that terrible oppres
sor,- archbishop Laud, and others, had obtained
so early as 1635, a royal commission for the
government of the plantations, with absolute
power "to make laws and constitutions, con
cerning either their state public or the utility of
individuals, and for the relief of the clergy to
consign convenient maintenance unto them by
tithes and oblations and other profits according
to their discretion." This commission also gave
power to punish all opposers by imprisonment,
or by the taking of life, or dismemberment of
limbs. The formidable prelate and infatuated
king, to be sure, found themselves too much
busied with work nearer home, to carry this
atrocious commission into effect. But mean-

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 97
while our fathers were quaking under apprehen
sions, that they would soon see ship loads of the
ecclesiastical fetters, from which they had fled,
sent after them. And what person in his senses
can blame them for doing all they could to dis
courage the residence among them of men, who
would be all ready to rivet those fetters on as
soon as they could be landed ? The Puritan
settlers chose rather to bear themselves the
charge of bigotry, than to suffer their children
to be enslaved under the Romanized hierarchy
of the tyrannical Stuarts. Now to keep out, if
possible, that abhorred hierarchy, they must
have a general rule for the excluding of all sects
from political power and influence. It would
not have answered to tolerate all other sects, and
to exclude only that which was established by
law in the mother country, and which would
have required nothing more than the pointed
affront of such an exclusion to provoke it to
wield the dread powers with which it had been
armed by the royal commission. They must
tolerate all or none. To have tolerated all,
would have been suicidal, for it would have in
vited the coming of those who were empowered
to wrest away the whole of their dear-bought
liberties. And therefore, though they silently
overlooked much quiescent dissent from their
VOL. II. 9

93 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
own views, and connived at many peaceable
dissenters, they professed no open toleration of
any. v
The English court well understood the mo
tives of all this defensive policy. This was the
reason why Charles the Second interposed to
protect the Quakers in Massachusetts, though
he suppressed them in England. He made
common cause with them in this country, be
cause he saw that the exclusion of the Quakers
was part of a policy intended to keep out those
who would co-operate with him, in the introduc
tion of his hierarchal idols. He knew that if
he could effect a toleration for the Quakers, it
must also extend to his minions and the minis
ters of his will.
Moreover those other dissenting sects, were
imbued with the same spirit of intolerance as
the hierarchy : and could any one of them have
obtained the numerical ascendancy here, there
is reason to think, that it would have proceeded
to root up at once all that had been done by our
fathers. Thus we see that when the Quakers
obtained the ascendancy in Rhode Island, they
turned upon Roger Williams, stripped him of
his political influence, subverted his arrange
ments, and reduced him nearly to a nullity in
the very refuge he had opened for them.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 99
Our fathers have been ably vindicated by the
Honorable Josiah Quincy, L. L. D., in an ad
dress delivered to the citizens of Boston, at the
second centennary of the settlement of that place.
He has defended them with the penetration of a
jurist, and the wisdom of a scientific politician.
He has made it manifest, that common prudence,
and not a blind bigotry, led to the course they
pursued. " It cannot be questioned," he says,
" that the constitution of the State, as sketched
in the first laws of our ancestors, was a skillful
combination of both civil and ecclesiastical pow
ers. Church and State were very curiously and
efficiently interwoven with each other. It is
usual to attribute to religious bigotry the sub
mission of the mass of the people to a system
thus stern and exclusive. It may, however,
with quite as much justice, be resolved into love
of independence and political sagacity."* Their
plan was to base the liberties of the country on
a system of independent churches. And while
this plan gave much political influence to the
ministers, there was a safeguard against the
abuse of that influence, in the right of each
church to make a final determination in its own
affairs.

* Address, page 32.

100 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
As the result of the course pursued by the
early settlers of New England, we see a com
monwealth in which their great object has been
happily accomplished. We see an almost unex
ampled religious' prosperity, and the most ample
enjoyment of personal liberty and security, in
" a church without a prelate, and a state without
a king." Nor can we drop the discussion of this subject
without the remark, that it is wrong to try the
actions of men in one age, by the standard of
another. Tried by the standard of their own
age, our fathers would not be found an intoler
ant class. The rights of conscience and ef re
ligious liberty, as matters lying exclusively
between the soul of man and his God, were
points which few had considered. It has been
said, that Roger Williams was the first to claim
entire freedom for the conscience from all hu
man control. This is a great mistake. Before
he was born, the United Provinces of Holland,
in 1573, had established by law a universal tol
eration of sects. And while little Williams
was handling his horn-book at his grandma's
knee, the excellent Henry Jacob, the founder of
the first Congregational Church ever gathered
in England, printed the first document which
ever plead with Authority for entire religious

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 101
toleration. It is a quarto, of forty-eight pages.
It is addressed " To the Right High and Mighty
Prince, James, by the Grace of God, King of
Great Brittanie, France and Ireland, Defender
of the Faith, &c. — An Humble Supplication for
Toleration, and Liberty to enjoy and observe
the Ordinances of Jesus Christ in the adminis
tration of his Churches in lieu of human Consti
tutions, 1609."* Five or six years later,
appeared some tracts on the same subject by
persons of the Baptist persuasion, on which
Crosby and others have grounded a mistaken
boast of the priority of that sect in this good
work. This honor belongs to Henry Jacob, the
father of the modern Independents. Still these
were but the speculations of a few individuals.
The united current of public sentiment in the
whole Christian world set strongly the other
way. So that our ancestors appear to great
advantage, as far in advance of their own times,
even in this particular wherein they seem so
much below the standard of ours.
It has happened with the Puritans as with
Shakspeare. There are many passages in the
dramas of that poet, which must mark him as

* For an account of this interesting Tract, see Hanbury's Memo
rials of the Independents, I. 224, 7.
9*

102 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
an impure man and polluted writer, if we try
him by the rules of decorum now observed.
But if we compare him with the authors of his
own day, we shall be surprised to see how far
he exceeded them in decency, and the sense of
that beauty and loveliness with which virtue is
so delicately graced. When our fathers are
compared with the men of their own times, we
see them leading on the van as well of religious
as of civil liberty.
It has been justly said, by D'Israeli ; — " Men
who appear at certain eras of society, however
they be lauded for what they have done, are
still liable to be censured for not doing what
they ought to have done." It is easy for our
modern smatterers and whipsters to start up,
and petulantly condemn our sires for not
seeing some things as clearly as we do after the
increasing light of two centuries. "Just so,"
says Macaulay, " we have heard a baby mounted
on the shoulders of his father, cry out, ' How
much taller I am than papa !' " It is too much
to expect that such prating sciolists will ever
have reflection enough to consider, that our an
cestors then lived in the midst of great moral
changes: — and that, "in sudden alterations, it
is not to be expected that all things be done by
the square and compass."

LIFE OF JOHN. WILSON. 103
Look at the English commonwealth under
the protectorate of Cromwell, when religious
affairs were conducted according to the ideas of
the Independents who were then in the ascen
dant. Cromwell's senate enacted a law, abolish
ing all penal statutes for religion, and allowing
every one to think and worship as he pleased,
on taking an oath of allegiance to government.
Compare the conduct of the Puritans as to
the spirit of toleration in either hemisphere, with
that of any other governments, in or near their
own times. Compare it with the behavior of
that regal butcher, the eighth Henry. Of Ed
ward the Sixth, we may speak in just commend
ation, for he was a Puritan so far as a crowned
prince could be. But look at the " bloody
Mary ; " and Elizabeth, with crimson stains
almost as deep as her sister's ; and Charles the
First, whose bigotry was of the most insensate
kind. Compared with these, Endicott and the
harshest of the Puritans, were mildness and
liberality itself. Or contrast Puritan adminis
tration with that of Charles the Second after
the restoration, whose hypocrisy and profligacy
made his Stuart bigotry the more dark and hid
eous. This perjured and debauched head of
the Anglican Church, by the act of uniformity,
siknced in one day two thousand Puritan min*

104 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
isters, who were deprived of their livings, for
bidden from preaching, keeping schools, taking
boarders, or living within five miles of any
place where they had lived before, and might
have friends who would relieve them. And
yet, the historians record the pleasing fact, that,
" during twenty-eight years of sufferings, their
enemies were never gratified by any resistance ;
nor was any of them imprisoned for debt."
During the reign of that " lord of misrule," and
of his brother, James the Second, near eight
thousand non-conformists perished in prison, for
dissenting from the national worship ; and a
list was made of some sixty thousand persons
who suffered in various ways for the same
offence, Speaking of the divines ejected by the Act of
Uniformity, it was observed at the time, by a
person who was not a dissenter; — " I am glad
so many have chosen suffering, rather than con
formity to the establishment ; for, had they com
plied, the world would have thought there had
been nothing in religion; but now they have
given a striking proof, that there are some sincere
in their professions." Some ministers, who had
conformed from worldliness rather than con
science, once taunted Mr. Christopher Jackson,
who was of the immortal two thousand, with

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 105
having " a bare coat." He tartly retorted ; —
" If it is bare, it is not turned." How much
more honorable is such poverty, than the afflu
ence gained by the sacrifice of principle ! In
the many revolutions of the English Church
from Henry VIII., to William III., there were
enough of ministers who changed with the
times, subscribed all the articles required, swore
all the oaths exacted, and followed all the relig
ions imposed by law, without the slightest
regard to consistency, except in the one point
of keeping their benefices, like " the vicar of
Bray." They were like vessels riding at anchor
in tide-water, heading either way as the current
changed, but without quitting their moorings.
Or, to vary the comparison, they were like the
millers, who, though they cannot turn the wind,
can turn their mill -sails, so that however it
blows, they are sure to grind their grist. In
such times, it was no small praise, that the
Puritans with so great constancy, bore persecu
tions very far exceeding in severity aught that
they have been charged with inflicting.
Thus great complaint has been made against
our fathers, because they had laws by which
persons who absented themselves from public
worship a certain number of times in succession,
without good and sufficient reason, were liable

106 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
to fines and other penalties. But were they
alone in this sin of enforcing attendance on
public worship ? By a law passed in England
in the thirty-fifth year of Queen Elizabeth, per
sons obstinately refusing to come to church,
were doomed to banishment, and were sentenced
to death if they returned from banishment. Or
turn, if you please, to " the old dominion," the
ancient colony of Virginia, settled by cavaliers
and zealous Church of England men. In the
first code of laws adopted for that government,
we find the following sanguinary clause : —
" Likewise no man or woman shall dare to
violate or breake the Sabboth by any gaming,
publique, or priuate abroad, or at home, but
duly sanctifie and obserue the same, both him-
selfe and his 'familie, by preparing themselues
at home with priuate prayer, that they may be
the better fitted for the publique, according to
the commandments of God, and the orders of
our Church, as also euery man and woman shall
repaire in the morning to the diuine seruice,
and sermons preached vpon the Sabboth day,
and in the afternoon to diuine seruice, and
Catechising, vpon paine for the first favlt to
lose their prouision, and allowance for the
whole weeke following, for the second to lose

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 107
the said allowance, and also to be whipt, and
for the third to suffer death." *
In comparison with these severe statutes, the
penal laws of the New England colonies com
pelling the same duties, are mildness itself.
But how comes it to pass, that men are ever
declaiming with such bitterness against our
" Blue-Laws," most of which indeed never ex
isted except in imagination ? And yet the same
men have never a word to say against the
Black-Laws of " good queen Bess," nor the
Blood-Laws of the gay cavaliers of Roanoke ?
If the enactments of our fathers oh this point
were based upon an erroneous principle, it is
certainly contrary to the truth of history and
moral justice, to represent them as . sinning in
this respect above all that dwelt on the earth in
their time.
The age will arrive when the Pilgrims will
be regarded as having been surprisingly in
advance of their generation, even in the matter
for which they have been so much reproached.
They strove to find a moderate or middle way
of procedure. Their maxim was ; — !' To tol
erate all things, and to tolerate nothing, are both

# See the Laws at large in the third volume of Force's Historical
Tracts.

108 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
alike intolerable." The maxim is not so very
bad. They sometimes erred in its application.
Our fathers have been severely blamed for
the banishment of Roger Williams. It has been
a matter of wonder, that they could hot bear
with such a sic : ?re good man in his harmless
peculiarities. That he was a good man, we
make no doubt ; — that he was a safe or harmless
man, is not so clear. This fiery Welchman
had a conscience which was a snarl of tangled
scrupulosities ; and he was frantic to cast the
same intricate net over the heads of all around
him. His principles and practices were such as
must have frustrated the whole design of the
colony, and must have been fatal to its peace
and permanence. Mather uses the following
singular similitude in regard to him. " In the
year 1654, a certain windmill in the Low Coun
tries, whirling round with extraordinary vio
lence, by reason of a violent storm then blowing ;
the stone, at length, by its rapid motion, became
so intensely hot as to fire the mill, from whenc.e
the flames, being dispersed by the high winds,
did set a whole town on fire. But I can tell
my reader, that, about twenty years before this,
there was a whole country in America like to
be set on fire by the rapid motion of a windmill,
in the head of one particular man. Know then,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 109
that about the year 1630, arrived here one Mr.
Roger Williams ; who being a preacher that had
less light than^re in him, hath, by his own sad
example, preached to us the danger of that evil
which the apostle mentions ; — They have a zeal,
but not according to knowledge." *
At his first coming, he would not join any
church here, whose members would not profess
repentance for having formerly communed in
the parish churches of England. He held that
the magistrates could not rightfully punish
offences against " the first table ; " that is to
say, the first four commands of the decalogue : —
an opinion which has never yet been acceded to
by the good people of Massachusetts ; whose
Revised Statutes still contain enactments against
blasphemy and Sabbath-breaking. At Salem,
he taught that the patent, or charter of the col
ony, was a mere nullity ; thus destroying all the
rights of property acquired under it. He in
sisted that it should be hurled back to the
monarch, whom he taxed with uttering lies and
blasphemy in that very document. He refused
the oath of allegiance, and disowned the au
thority of the existing government. He not
only denied the right of the government to pro-

* Magnalia. Book VH. Ch. TJ. Sec. 2.
vol. n. 10

110 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
vide for the raising of money for religious
purposes, but even for the support of schools ;
and thus would have bereft the children of New
England of the glorious birthright of free and
universal education. He refused to hold com
munion with his own church, unless its mem
bers would renounce all fellowship with the
other churches : — an act which must have sepa
rated all the freemen in it .from civil, as well as
ecclesiastical, connection with the other mem
bers of the body politic. He wrote to the
churches of which the magistrates were indi
vidually members, complaining of their official
acts, and urging that they should be disciplined
for the same : — this too was a plain moving of
sedition ; for the excommunication of a magis
trate must have taken away his franchise, — and
with it, the capacity to hold his office.
This good-hearted and wrong-headed man
held many other extravagant notions of minor
importance ; refusing to commune with his own
wife, because she would not cast off all Christ
ian fellowship but his ; causing Endicott to cut
the cross out of the flag which protected the
country, thereby involving the colony in ex
treme perplexity and considerable peril ; deny
ing that magistrates may administer an oath to
an unregenerate man ; opposing family prayer,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. Ill
if any unregenerate soul were present ; contend
ing that thanks must not be returned after
meals ; and upholding many other such like un-
socialities and absurdities.
Can we think it strange that our fathers were
filled with consternation at the movements of
this erratic genius ? At every expense, they
were toiling to rear the frame-work of their new
social state. And now they felt the fabric reel
ing and tottering under his frantic and convul
sive efforts to lay the whole in ruins : for the
structure was then far from being braced, and
pinned, and knit together with the garnished
strength it now exhibits. With many excellent
traits of character, Mr. Williams was a reckless,
turbulent, seditious " non-resistant and no-hu
man-government man." Even in our day, such
an one has been "lynched" in the city of Bos
ton by " a mob of gentlemen," and protected
from farther violence only by a sort of incarce
ration : — and this was done at an era when we
have nothing to fear, as to our social institu
tions, from such wild opinionists. Inexcusable
as such a measure has now become, who are
we, that we should reproach our sires with
their treatment of Williams ? With them the
case was far different. He was jeopardizing
the whole success of their costly experiment,

112 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
and threatening to demolish their dearest hopes.
And shall they be blamed for hurling the fire
brand out of doors, and quenching the flames
before they had kindled among the chips and
shavings, and spread through the whole of the
unfinished building? No man can charge
them with inconsistency for refusing tolerance
to one, who was madly striking at their very
vitals, and endangering their existence. At
least, no man can so charge them, who does not
senselessly shut his eyes to the facts as they
then stood. For our fathers in their then ex
isting circumstances, to have let this ruthless
agitator go on without stopping him, would
have been to consent to their own destruction.
It has been alledged, that his banishment was
attended with needless and aggravated harsh
ness ; — that he was forced to fly in the winter,
and to find a refuge among savages. But these
hardships he precipitated upon himself by his
restless turbulence. He could have tarried till
the spring : but abusing this indulgence to carry
on his machinations, the rulers were preparing
to send him for trial to England, in a ship
which was about sailing. Knowing that much
severer handling would await him in the mother
country, he secretly withdrew. In his new
refuge he was never molested ; though his

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 113
vicinity, and the influence he exercised through
his writings and his emissaries, caused great
uneasiness to our ancestors.
Governor Winthrop befriended him in his
difficult undertaking ; and scores of amicable
letters passed between them. Winslow, then
Governor of the Plymouth colony, visited him at
his rude habitation, and aided his wife with
money. When his occasions required it, he
was permitted to pass, untroubled, through our
territory. On his own part, he showed such
generous magnanimity toward the Massachu
setts settlers, as sets his Christian character in a
commendable light, and disposes us to grant
such absolution as we may for his many previ
ous errors.
It is quite remarkable, that Mr. Williams
should afterwards indirectly sanction the justice
of the procedure against himself, by procuring
a similar sentence of banishment upon Samuel
Gorton. This Gorton was a strange fanatic, a
self-styled " Professor of Mysteries," who hav
ing been sued in Massachusetts for debt,
behaved in court so mutinously and abusively,
that he was fined and expelled from the juris
diction. He then betook himself to the Rhode
Island colony, " where he affronted what little
government they had with such intolerable in-
10*

114- LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
solencies, that he was then whipped and sent
out of that colony." He then repaired to the
Providence Plantations, where he committed
such outrages, that Mr. Williams and his peo
ple entreated the Massachusetts government for
protection from Gorton and his outlaws. The
result of this application was, that Gorton was
banished again.
Now Williams was an offender of the same
class with the " Gortonists ; " and the laws un
der which he had suffered some seven years
before, were the same laws which he waked up
against that crazy crew. If it was right for him
to procure the banishment of Gorton, then was
it right for the people of Massachusetts to ex
clude Mr. Williams from their community. He
has afforded the strongest practical proof of the
necessity of such legislation in the circumstances
of the infant colonies. " And against necessity,
there is no law." As Seneca has said ; — "Ne
cessity excuses whatever it exacts."
No man can say, what the consequences
would have been, had Mr. Williams remained
in Massachusetts, to leaven the people with his
incongruous mixture of sound sentiments and
fantastical opinions. The character of the man
has left its impress upon the genius of the peo
ple of Rhode Island. The demonstrations of

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 115
the mob-spirit there and in Pennsylvania, have
been regarded by judicious persons as the natu
ral result when a people has been extensively
pervaded by the non-resistant leaven. After a
while, that leaven will pass from the vinous
to the acetous fermentation. Its repugnance to
the divine ordinance of magistracy and lawful
order will remain, and will operate with explo
sive violence, whenever the counteracting repug
nance to the use of physical force shall have
evaporated and passed away. Every commu
nity which is not trained to venerate the law
and its ministers, must have a strong tendency
to anarchy and confusion.
The course pursued by our fathers has been
amply vindicated by those best able to judge of
its propriety. Among others, we may refer to
one whom it is needless to style the honorable
John Quincy Adams. In a discourse recently
published by him, after a candid recital of the
insurrectionary spirit and intolerable proceed
ings of Mr. Williams at Salem, he asks; —
" Can we blame the founders of the Massachu
setts colony for banishing him from within their
jurisdiction ? In the annals of religious perse
cution, is there to be found a martyr more gent
ly dealt with by those against whom he began
the war of intolerance ? whose authority he per-

116 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
sisted, even after professions of penitence and
submission, in defying, till deserted even by the
wife of his bosom ? and whose utmost severity
of punishment upon him was only an order for
his removal as a nuisance from among them?" *
Let newspaper witlings scribble as they may,
their detractions cannot blast the memory of the
men whom "the sage of Quincy" has thus
frankly justified.
Our fathers have been severely rebuked for
not tolerating the Baptists at their first appear
ance among us. No one has undertaken to
apologize for them in this matter. And yet, in
addition to the general considerations already
advanced, there are such as greatly alleviate the
blame which may attach to their treatment of a
sect now so respectable.
It had never been known as an organized
body till the rise of the Anabaptists in Germany,
in the sixteenth century. They who have read
the history of that period are well aware, that,
in all the fury of fanaticism, that sect waged a
wild crusade against every government which
would not join them, laying waste the country,

* The New England Confederacy of MDCXLHI. A Discourse de
livered before the Mass. Hist. Soc. 1843. pp. 25—30.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 117
and giving themselves up to the most shocking
excesses, till they were with difficulty sup
pressed and dispersed. This is no place to
recount the horrors they enacted. We are un
willing to dwell upon them. Suffice it to say,
that our fathers, in whose memory these trage
dies were fresh, regarded an Anabaptist even as
Edmund Burke would have regarded a French
Jacobin reeking from the atrocities of " the
reign of terror." Now this infelicity attending
the origin of the Baptists as a distinct denomi
nation, occasioned them, at the first forming of
their churches in Britain, which was about the
time of the settlement of this country, to be re
garded with extreme anxiety and foreboding of
direful results. Though these dark suspicions
have proved to be groundless and unjust, yet,
under the circumstances, they were very natu
ral ; and it is not strange, that the Baptists
were subjected to strong opposition from such
as feared that they would walk in the bloody
tracks of their German predecessors. Thus one
of the historians speaks of the laws made to
restrain their proceedings, in these terms ; —
" The General Court were so afraid lest mat
ters might at last, from small beginnings, grow
into a new Munster tragedy, that they enacted
some laws to restrain anabaptist exorbitances ;

118 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
which laws, though never executed unto the ex
tremity of them, yet were soon laid by, as to
any execution of them at all." *
This explanation has been boldly. denied by
some, who maintain, that the Baptists were too
well known as to their principles and temper, to
leave them liable to such suspicions. It is cer
tain, however, that, though the German anabap
tists had been for near a century endeavoring to
spread their sentiments in Great Britain, they
met with little or no success. No churches of
that order were formed till about the time the
New England emigrants left that country : nor
did such churches become at all numerous, till
the time of the civil wars, when they were
greatly favored by Cromwell's famous army. It
is clear, therefore, that our ancestors could have
had no special knowledge of their character, ex
cept what they inferred from the behavior of
those unhappy Germans.
That we have assigned the true reason of the
proceedings of our fathers, is evident from the
very terms of the law, as it stands on the Mas
sachusetts' records, under date of the thirteenth
of November, 1644.
" Forasmuch as experience hath plentifully

* Magnalia, Book VII., Ch. IV., Sec. 4.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 119

and often proved, that, since the first rising of
the Anabaptists, about one hundred years since,
they have been the incendiaries of the common
wealths, and the infectors of persons in main
matters of religion, and the troublers of churches
in all places where they have been, and that they
who have held the baptizing of infants unlawful
have usually held other errors or heresies to
gether therewith, though they have (as other
heretics use to do) concealed the same till they
spied out a fit advantage and opportunity to vent
them, by way of question or scruple, &c, &c. ;
it is ordered and agreed, that if any person or
persons, within this jurisdiction, shall either
openly condemn or oppose the baptizing of in
fants, or go about secretly to seduce others from
the approbation or use thereof, or shall purposely
depart the congregation at the administration of
the ordinance, or shall deny the ordinance of
magistracy, or their lawful right and authority
to make war, or to punish the outward breaches
of the first table, and shall appear to the court
willfully and obstinately to continue therein after
due time and means of conviction, every such
person or persons shall be sentenced to banish
ment." *

* Mass. Hist. Soc. Collections, Second Series, I. 210.

120 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
Such was the law : from which it plainly ap
pears, that the practice of rebaptism was closely
connected, in the minds of the legislators, with
the German atrocities, as well as with hostility
to government, and to the magistrates' care over
good manners and morality. It is readily ad
mitted, that, in the case of the Baptists of Mas
sachusetts, there was no occasion for these fears.
But it is no less true, that our fathers felt those
fears, and acted honestly, though mistakenly,
under the influence of those fears. They felt
compelled to suppress what they deemed to be
sentiments dangerous to the peace of civil soci
ety. It has been already intimated, that this
law, the result of misapprehension, was not
rigorously enforced. It was intended only for
such as were deemed turbulent and factious
offenders. This appears from a Declaration of
the General Court holden at Boston, November
fourth, 1646 ; and issued by order of court.
From this we take the following paragraph.
" They are offended also at our lawe against
Anabaptists. The truth is, the great trouble
we have been putt unto, and hazard also, by
familisticall and anabaptisticall spirits, whose
conscience and religion hath been only to sett
forth themselves and raise contentions in the
country, did provoke us to provide for our safety

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 121
by a lawe, that all such should take notice, how
unwelcome they should be unto us, either come-
ing or staying. But for such as differ from us
only in judgment, in point of baptism or some
other points of lesse consequence, and live
peaceably amongst us, without occasioning dis
turbance, &c, such have no cause to complaine ;
for it hath never beene as yet putt in execution
against any of them, although such are knowne
to live amongst us." * Thus did our fathers
speak for themselves : and there is no reason to
call their sincerity in question. The devastated
fields of Germany were, in a manner, still
smoking before their eyes. They knew, that
there anabaptism was a conspiracy, whose de
clared object was the destruction by fire and
sword, of every government and individual who
would not submit to the new baptism. We may
smile at these terrors of our good fathers, and
we may regret the measures they adopted with
a view to secure themselves from similar disas
ters. But to them the danger seemed real and
imminent : and it is no wonder that they acted
like people in a state of alarm, who think
of safety, rather than of questions of abstract
rights. Time, and the good behavior of the

* Hutchinson's State Papers, p. 216.
VOL. II. 11

122 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
Baptists, at last dispelled their fears, and gradu
ally and speedily brought about an entire tolera
tion. As some fault may be found with every one,
so the Baptists themselves were not wholly
without blame. They disturbed the public wor
ship during the administration of infant baptism,
and at other times, by openly manifesting their
contempt in ways that gave great offence. They
resorted also to other irregularities, which even
good men are prone to do when excited by the
ardor of a new reform, or the expectation of
resistance to their views. These things tended
still further to excite the apprehensions to which
the community were already predisposed, that
the Anabaptist sentiments had a natural and in
nate connection with contempt of magistrates and
laws. Yet, from the beginning, men of that persua
sion who were peaceably disposed, lived quietly
among us, and even retained their membership
in our churches. Two of the early presidents
of Harvard College were known to be of this
class. There was no disposition to trouble people
merely for holding Baptist sentiments ; unless,
they also, in some way, infringed the public
peace. Perhaps of all the sects which have
become rather numerous in the world, the

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 123
Baptists have been the least persecuted of any.
In this country, a few, who made unnecessary
difficulty, were banished : but, in general, they
were patiently borne with, and suffered less and
less of molestation ; till the people became satis
fied that they were an orderly and exemplary sect
of Christians, and they have obtained the fullest
equality of privileges, whether civil or religious.
So early as the time of Dr. Increase Mather, we
find him assisting to ordain the pastor of a Bap
tist church in his neighborhood.* At the present
time, it cannot be said, that there is any want of
kind fraternal feeling between those brethren and
" the standing order." The latter are certainly
not the most backward to cultivate mutual charity
and fraternal communion.
Our fathers have been violently censured for
their proceedings in reference to the Quakers,
which is the only remaining point belonging to
this subject which requires our consideration.
Most of the allegations against the Puritans
are derived from the writings of the Quakers
themselves, which are violent and abusive beyond
what any one can imagine who has not read
them. Indeed much misapprehension has arisen in

* Eemarkables of Dr. I. Mather, p. 61.

124 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
respect to the merits of this business, from igno
rance of what the. Quakers were in that day. It
is a huge mistake, to suppose, as many do, that
they were the same sort of excellent, inoffensive
personages, as those whom we now see arrayed
in sanctified drab, and hats with pious breadth
of brim. Because this people are noted in our
times, for their mild spirit and moral virtues, and
are, in the main, good members of society, we
are not to suppose at once, that they have been
so from the beginning.
In truth, they were then a dangerous sect.
Bishop Burnet wrote a letter to the Princess
Sophia of Hanover, the mother of the first
George, and ancestress of the present royal fam
ily of England. He penned this letter under the
impression that that princess might soon be called
to the British throne. He gives her information
respecting the different sects of dissenters, con
sidered in a political point of view ; — or as to the
manner in which their respective principles bore
on the probable welfare of the government.
Among other things, he says ; — " The most ridic
ulous, and yet the most dangerous sect we have
among us, is the Quakers." For this assertion
the good bishop has been laughed to scorn ; —
" What ! the Quakers dangerous ! a people so

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 125
intensely opposed to the shedding of blood,
dangerous to the State ! What folly ! "
But after all, the bishop of Old Sarum was
apt to know what he was talking about. He
thought that people might be dangerous, though
without dagger in hand, or pistol in belt. He
saw that their transcendental notions about
" inward light " were perilous to revealed relig
ion, the main defence and support of Christian'
States. He saw, that their non-resistance senti
ments must disarm the magistracy, and deprive
justice of her sword, and subvert the order of
society. Even the government of Rhode Island,
in a letter to the General Court of Massachusetts,
dated October, 1557, makes the following re
mark ; — " We conceive, that their doctrines tend
to very absolute cutting down and overturning
relations and civil government among men, if
generally received."* In 1655, the government
and council of Rhode Island passed an order for
outlawing the people called Quakers, because
they would not bear arms, and to seize their
estates ; but the people in general rose up against
these severe orders, and would not suffer it.t
In these colonies, the early Quakers did noth-

* Hutchinson's History. I, 526.
t Mass. Hist. Soc. Col. First Series. V. 219.
11*

126 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
ing but inveigh with astonishing bitterness and
rancor against the magistrates and ministers,
whom, without waiting for any provocation they
denounced with every odious epithet, stirring
up with all their might the spirit of insubordina
tion. Any one who knows in what profound
veneration our ancestors held both Moses and
Aaron, both the magistrate and the minister,
must see what indignation the Quakers must
have excited by their rabid railings against whom
they called the " charter tyrants and the charter
priests." The followers of George Fox, without firing
guns, or smiting with the sword, were wholesale
breakers of the peace. Not content to operate
within their own sphere, or to hold forth to such
as were willing to hear them, they broke in
everywhere without regard to decency and the
just rights of others. In courts of justice they
volunteered to assail the judges on the bench with
furious tirades against them and their offices.
If, tomorrow, any one were to be guilty of one
tithe of the " contempt of court " they practiced,
he would feel, with instant rigor, the strong arm
of the law. In the churches, they would tumul-
tuously disturb the order of public worship with
their vociferous harangues. Men and women
would carry on noisy mechanical operations in

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 127
the midst of divine service, by way of practically
testifying their devout scorn of all carnal ordi
nances : — and this would be done through a
succession of Sabbaths, unchecked by the inflic
tion of the ordinary penalties for misdemeanors of
that nature. Of late, we have seen certain noted
men and women taken out of conventions and
churches by main strength, because they would
not restrain that unruly member, the tongue.
Nay, our own civil tribunals have dealt with
these characters according to course of law, for
breaking the peace ; — and yet the mal-practices
so punished were trifling in comparison with
those which harrowed the feelings and exhausted
the patience of our forefathers. Perhaps the
recent acts of our municipal tribunals may be
cited a hundred years hence, to prove that the
spirit of religious intolerance lingered even unto
this day.
If, instead of giving full credence to the col
ored, distorted and falsified statements of the an
gry Quaker pamphlets, we have recourse to the
records of our courts, as would be done in regard
to any other matter, we shall find, that much of
what has been called persecution, was but the
punishment of gross misconduct committed under
fanatical excitement. Such offences, if perpe
trated to-day, would be as promptly punished by

128 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
our correctional police as by that of our fathers.
It is true that some of the penalties imposed by
the latter may seem, according to our ideas, ex
cessively severe. But we must remember, that
the penal codes of all Europe were then far
more severe than at present. According to the
scale of penal inflictions then in use, our fathers
meant to apportion no sorer retribution than
would now be imposed for the like misdeeds.
The Quakers were punished, in general, not
as religious offenders, not as "heretics, — but as
civil offenders, transgressing against the peace
and dignity of the Commonwealth. It is true,
that, according to the records, they were arraigned
as Quakers : but this was because the class of
civil offences which the law was intending to
take hold of, was then known by that name. If
we read the minutes of evidence, we shall see
the stress laid upon the disorderly behavior of
the accused. Good Mr. Norton, in his doleful
sermon, entitled " The Heart of New England
Rent at the Blasphemies of the present Genera
tion," strongly disclaims the right of the magis
trate to interfere with Quakers, or any other
heretics, who were of quiet and peaceable
deportment. But he argues, that they ought to
be suppressed, when they become factious, tur
bulent and insurrectionary. These were the

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 129
views of our fathers : and it is believed that they
are the views of all sober, humane and law-
abiding people, at this present time. In the
application of these principles, the Puritans may
possibly have erred in some particular cases,
without being more prone to error than mortals
generally are.
Other measures failing to put a stop to the
disturbances, a law was made for banishing
such as were convicted thereof, on pain of
death in case they returned. Some may be
shocked at this, as well as at the extreme com
monness of capital punishments for minor offences
throughout the civilized world in that sterner
age. But they who condemn them for resorting
so freely to this dreadful penalty ought to con
sider that this country was not then provided
with prisons fit for the confinement and employ
ment of convicts for life or long terms of years.
If a criminal could not be adequately punished
by fines and personal chastisement, the legislators
knew not how to dispose of him except by hang
ing, or banishment under pain of hanging in case
of returning to the jurisdiction.
Under this statute four quakers were hanged
for so returning. Some of these had repeated
the offence. The court felt compelled to enforce
the law, or give up the attempt to maintain civil

130 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
government. Upon the execution of two of these
unhappy enthusiasts, the General Court printed
a declaration, dated the eighteenth of October,
1659, explaining the grounds of their proceed
ings. From this document it appears evident,
that they considered the sufferers to be engaged
in seditious and treasonable designs to overthrow
the government of the country. Be it, that this
was a mistake, which is by no means admitted,
our fathers sincerely thought that such was the
fact ; and felt constrained to resort to strong
measures for their own security. Remarking
that other penalties had proved to be " too weak
a defence against the impetuous fanatic fury " of
these intruders, they say that they were "neces
sitated to endeavor their own security," by
enacting a law, " that such persons should, be
banished on pain of death, according to the
example of England in their provision against
Jesuits." They contend that their " own just
and necessary defence called upon them, other
means failing, to offer the point which these per
sons have violently and willfully rushed upon,
and thereby become felones de se." They appeal
to the repeated reprieves which were easily
granted to -some of the offenders; which, say
they, "will manifestly evince we desire their
lives absent, rather than their death present."

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 131
And truly, the circumstances are calculated to
call to mind the characteristic remark of Luther ; —
" He that bringeth himself into needless dangers,
dieth the devil's martyr." Thus poor Mary
Dyer, having been sentenced to execution for
"rebellious sedition and and obtruding herself
after banishment upon pain of death," wa's
reprieved on condition that she speedily departed
and did not return. Return she did, within a
few months, and suffered accordingly. She was
the last who suffered under that law, which was
suspended soon afteT by order of the king ; as
would have been voluntarily done by the General
Court itself,- had it not been anticipated by the
royal rescript, after the law had been in force
about three years.*
Among other instances we read of the whip
ping of two Quaker women at Salem. Upon
this, our hearts are ready to ache, that these hap
less females should thus suffer merely for relig
ion. But how was it ? Were they scourged
merely for cherishing Quaker principles ? By
no means : — but for appearing in the churches in
open day wholly divested of apparel. The poor
misguided creatures professed to be acting pro
phetically, under special divine inspiration, as a

* HubbardV History. Ch. LXV.

132 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
sign of the naked truth, and as a sign of the na
kedness of the land. It would be hard to say when
gentle castigation was ever merited, if not then !
When Roger Williams afterwards reproached
George Fox with this scandalous procedure on
the part of his female disciples, Fox, in his print
ed reply, applauds it as a pious and admirable
action, and raises a horrid outcry of indignation
against the persecuting magistrates who punished
them for it.
The Quakers, in their way, and an ugly way
it was, were as intolerant as possible. Williams,
who, next to Penn, was the greatest benefactor
they ever had, received the most thankless
usage at their hands, and his old age was em
bittered by them. He held public debates with
them at Newport and Providence ; of which he
published an account, under the title, " George
Fox digged out of his Burrows ;" — Burroughs
being the name of one of Fox's subalterns.
Whoever reads this book is ready to regard it as
the most abusive and scurrilous that ever was
penned. But when he comes to read the reply
by Fox and Burnyeat, entitled, " A New Eng
land Firebrand Quenched," he will presently
begin to think that Williams' work is all milky
mildness and silky softness.
The Quakers sometimes dealt pretty hard

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 133
measure to one another. In the year 1694, one
of the followers of George Keith published a
tract containing the following clauses ; — " Since
the English in New England hanged their
countrymen for religion is thirty six years : —
since at Philadelphia, some did little less, by
taking away goods, and imprisoning some, and
condemning others without trial, for religious
dissent, is three years."
But it is a painful and undesirable task to
bring back to remembrance the errors of those
who have so long reposed in their forgotten
graves. There would we gladly leave them to
rest in oblivion,
" Nor draw their frailties from their dread abode."
We wish to do no more than was needful to
remove the unjust aspersions which bad been
cast upon our fathers, as though they had per
secuted the most meek and inoffensive char
acters, for no other cause than mere difference
of opinion on disputable points in religion. We
have arrayed facts sufficient to show, that most
of what is called their persecution was but the
punishment of such violations of public order, as
must ever be punished so long as the public
peace is to be secured by law. We have
showed, that the rest of their persecution nat-
VOL. II. 12

134 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
urally grew out of these irritating cases of mis
demeanor. We have argued that whatever
judicial proceedings of our forefathers are called
intolerant, were either dictated by the law of
self-preservation; or by the spirit of the age,
rather than by the temper of the men.
Our fathers were the first to emerge from
that deep and wide-spread pool of persecution
for conscience sake, under which the world had
stagnated during ages of Popish oppression.
Nor will men of sense be astonished, if, at their
first coming forth from the miry brink, they
dripped for a while with the ooze from which
they were escaping. Soon they purged them
selves from these last remaining impurities :
and became the spotless champions of the free
dom of the human mind.
And here we rest our defence of that noble
race of men, the Puritans ; of whom, their bitter
enemy, the historian Hume was compelled to
own, "that for all the liberty of the English
constitution that nation is indebted to the Puri
tans." But why speak we of defending these wor
thies, who stand impregnable, at a lofty height
of goodness unassailable by their weak and
dwarfish detractors. They were men, the blest
consequences of whose heroic and holy exer-

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 135
tions must occupy the Den of history, " to the
last syllable of recorded time," and whose vir
tues must be resounded as with angels' trumpets
to the ends of the world. Let us praise the
grace of God in them. Be it ever owned as one
of our chief debts to a bounteous Heaven, that it
gave us this godly ancestry. Whoever shall
dishonor such a parentage, may well expect the
anathema of the Most High, to which all the
people will say, Amen.
The topic we have been considering, teaehes
us to set a high estimate upon Christian charity.
There is no virtue in which even good men
have been so apt to be wanting. " This grace,"
says Warburton, " regulates and perfects all the
other virtues ; and is, itself, in no want of a
reformer." It is this which draws together the
bonds of union. It closes up the breaches of
Zion, and joins her walls in impregnable
strength. It teaches men to " love alike, though
they may not think alike." We may hope that
this heavenly temper is more generally spread
ing among all evangelical Christians at the
present day. May the past ravages of the spirit
of proscription and persecution stimulate the
growth of this divine disposition among men,
even as the ashes of the herbage over which the

136 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
fire has passed promotes the springing of a
fairer and. tenderer growth.
The subject which has been before us, in
spires us with confidence in the indestructible
nature of truth. No force can keep it down.
The blasts of opposition only blow each spark of
it into a flame. Like the gold of Ophir, the
fiery furnace can but purge out its alloy, and
prove its worth. The very shreds and filings of
truth are precious. It is the treasure of eter
nity, and the currency of heaven. It is the light
of immortality, and the breath of angels. It is
the sceptre of Jesus, and is of the essence of
godhead. How vain the efforts of earth and
hell to suppress it, or distort it into shapes of
falsehood. It rises again in its original beauty,
and defies the power of corruption. It must
triumph in the end.
" The destined hour must come,
When it shall blaze wiLh sun-surpassing splendor,
And the dark mists of prejudice and falsehood
Fade in its strong effulgence."
Meanwhile let us venerate our fathers for the
sacrifices they so cheerfully made for the truth
they loved, and which they felt in their hearts
like a life that could not die. To permit their
sufferings in behalf of principle to be forgotten,
would wrong posterity, which needs to see their

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 137
example and the reverence it inspires. " To go
on the forlorn hope of truth," as they did, " is
a service of peril. Who will undertake it, if it
be not also a service of honor ? "
The memory of the Pilgrims should awaken
our gratitude for the noble legacy of liberty.
Of all the rich heritage they have left us, this is
the chief blessing. They learned its value by
what it cost to win it. And how are we, in
these times of peaceful enjoyment of the wealthy
bequest, — how are we to estimate its worth, ex
cept by recurring to the price they had to pay
to obtain it. Let us be thankful to God who
conferred it upon them, and through them,
transmitted the inestimable boon to us. An
eloquent writer has said of religious liberty ; —
" Human agency is insufficient to extinguish it.
Oceans may overwhelm it. Mountains may
press it down. But, like the earth's central
fires, its own violent and unconquerable force
will heave both sea and land, and some time or
other, and in some place or other, the volcano
will burst forth, and blaze to heaven."
To the young "men and young women of
New England may this humble vindication of
our pilgrim sires not prove unacceptable or un
availing. May they never feel ashamed of that
noble stock whence they are sprung, nor ever
12*

138 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
prove recreant to the principles and faith of
their ancestors. May they emulate the virtues
of the sainted dead, and add fresh laurels to
their urns, and cover their lineage with new
honors. May they be, not only the sons and
daughters of the Pilgrims, but pilgrims them
selves in very deed, following the same bright
path through the dark and dreary wilds of
earth, in radiant progress to a glorious home in
heaven.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 139

CHAPTER IV.
The Pequod war. Mr. Wilson goes as chaplain. His faith. J. Nor
ton made his colleague, and dies soon after. Mr. Wilson's old
age. His last illness. Parting with his brethren. Anticipations
of the future world. Closing scene. His funeral. His property
disposed of. His afflictions in life. Repeatedly burned out.
Death of his eldest son. Death of his wife Elizabeth. Death of
his daughter, Mrs. Rogers. Deaths of his grandchildren. His
behavior under his sorrows. Answers to prayer. John Hull. An
undutiful son. Mr. Bird and Dr. Duke. A secret Papist admon
ished. Mr. Adams' child. Thomas Venner. A troubler of Israel. t
Sickness and recovery of Mary Wilson. Severe fall and remarka
ble recovery of John Wilson, Jr. Edmund Wilson and the Italian
Inquisitor. Edmund's escape from "the snare of the strange
woman," and his father's dream. Mr. Wilson's manner of preach
ing. His last "Thursday Lecture." His last sermon. The
weekly lectures in the days of old. Mr. Wilson's pastoral quali
ties. His pastoral visits. His personal appearance. Admissions
to the church. Baptisms. His zeal against error, tempered with
love to the errorist. His popularity. Muster on the common,
His poetry. Anagrams. His humility. An example of itsexcess.
Refusal to sit for his portrait. Cotton Mather's touches. Con
clusion.
In the midst of *the Antinomian contest, in
which he bore so active a part, Mr. Wilson was
enlisted in another whose weapons were more
carnal. Those were days in which it was said
of the saints ; — " Let the high praises of God be

140 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
in their mouth, and a two-edged sword in their
hand ; to execute vengeance upon the heathen,
and punishments upon the people ; to bind their
kings with chains, and their nobles with fetters
of iron ; to execute upon them the judgments
written." When the expedition was sent out
against the Pequods, which was " a just and
necessary " defensive war, if ever there was one,
it was thought as indispensable to send a chap
lain to pray as a captain to fight. . So the min
isters set apart two of their number ; " and a lot
was cast between them in a solemn public invo
cation of the name of God." The chaplain's
lot fell on Mr. Wilson, of whom Johnson says ; —
" Having formerly passed through perils by sea,
perils by land, and perils among false brethren,
he now followed the war purposely to sound an
alarm before the Lord with his silver trumpet."
He did not fail, on this occasion, to fight the
better fight of faith; for dreadful as was the
savage and numerous foe, he did not hesitate,
before his departure, to profess himself "as
fully satisfied, that God would give the English
a victory over those enemies, as if he had seen
the victory already obtained." The event ac
corded with his faith. Another instance of what
was called his " particular faith," occurred
during this expedition. A Pequod, in his canoe,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 141
was carrying off a captive English maid.
Though passing within gun-shot of our soldiers
on the shore, they were afraid to fire, lest they
should kill the prisoner. Mr. Wilson told them
never to fear. He confidently exclaimed ; — " God
will direct the bullet ! " The shot was sped
accordingly, and killed the savage, while the
captive was rescued unharmed and untouched.
The result of this war is sufficiently known.
The few Pequods who escaped, and who became
blended with other tribes, always acknowledged
that the blame lay with themselves, and that
the English were a just and righteous nation.
On the lamented death of Mr. Cotton in
1652, the church was much troubled to find a
teaching elder to fill the place of that luminary,
whose extinction had left them in darkness.
Their eyes and hearts were fixed on Mr. Nor
ton, who occupied the same office in the Ipswich
church. As that was much the smaller church,
and as it was also furnished with a very able
pastor in Mr. Rogers, a descendant of the Mari
an martyr of Smithfield, it was thought that
they ought to relinquish Mr. Norton. A warm
dispute arose between the respective claimants.
It was argued that Ipswich ought to part with
her teacher, on the ground of the gospel pre
cept; — " He that hath two coats, let him impart

142 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON,

to him that hath none ! " To this plea one of
the Ipswich brethren replied'; — " Nay, but Bos
ton hath one coat now ! " meaning the pastor.
Mr. Wilson, who was very zealous in the mat
ter, and whose humility outran even his zeal,
exclaimed ;—" Who ? Me! I am nothing!"
When some of his people told Mr. Rogers, that
they were afraid Mr. Wilson would at last get
Mr. Norton away from them by his arguments
or entreaties, or both, Mr. Rogers replied, that
he was " more afraid of his faith than of his
arguments." After several councils had been
called, and after four years of contest for this
prize, the governor and magistrates interfered
so effectually that Mr. Norton was installed in
Boston on the twenty-third of July, 1656.
After the decease of Mr. Norton, which took
place in 1663, seven years after his installation,
Mr. Wilson was left alone in his labors, at the
advanced age of seventy-six. For four years
he bore the burden of all that charge on his
enfeebled shoulders ; and yet the prosperity of
religion was not lessened. When his head and
hands were benumbed with the frosts of age, the
vital warmth retreated to the heart, and glowed
intenser there. The central heat of the chief
grace, eharity, burned quenchless to the last.
Like the beloved and last surviving disciple, in

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 143
his extreme old age at Ephesus, this venerable
pastor could do little more than repeat with
tremulous accents the fervent exhortation ; — ¦
" Little children, love one another ! " He had
a strong presentiment, that, during his time, no
public judgment or calamity should fall upon
New England. In him was fulfilled the angelic
benediction ;
" So mayst thou nVe, till, like the ripe fruit, thou
Drop into thy mother's lap, or be with ease
Gathered, not harshly plucked ; for death mature."
His infirmities at last assumed the form of a
sickness which long confined him. Patient and
resigned he awaited the result, desiring to return
to that God in whose errand his life had been
spent. " Now there was leaning on Jesus'
bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved."
Few men have more resembled the son of
Zebedee in personal character than this old dis
ciple. So strong was the confidence felt by bis
friends in his prayers which had been so often
answered, and in the power of his blessings,
that the principal persons in the country came,
some from a distance, bringing their children to
receive the benedictions of this patriarch. There
was a sort of prophetic tone to his remarks. As

144 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
the curtain which hides eternity was slowly
withdrawn to give him a passage thither, he
seemed to catch some glimpses which had less
of earth than of heaven. He could adopt the
lines with which Edmund Waller, when about
fourscore years of age, ended his " Divine
Poems." 11 The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made ;
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become,
As they draw nearer to their eternal home ;
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshhold of the new-"
At the same time, his friends, unable to spare
him, could accord with the verses in which
Dryden responded to the aged Waller ; —
*' Still here remain, still on the threshhold stand,
Still at this distance view the promised land ;
That thou mayst seem, so heavenly is thy sense,
Not going thither, but new come from thence."
In his last illness, Mr. Wilson took solemn
leave of the ministers, who had long held their
weekly meetings at his hospitable mansion, and
who were then assembled from all parts to their
annual convention in the election week. They
asked him what he thought might be the sins
which threatened the most to bring down the

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 145

displeasure of heaven upon the land. He
replied, that he had long feared several sins ;
but especially the sin of Corah ; that is, lest the
people, like Corah, and his company, should
rise up against the Lord's ministers, and proudly
contemn the counsels and ordinances by them
dispensed agreeable to the word of Christ.
When his brethren had retired, he engaged
in a fervent prayer, in which, after the example
of the dying patriarchs, he pronounced his part
ing blessing upon each of his relations and
attendants, one by one. This was done in a
sort of prophetical manner : and it was observed,
that his death-bed aspirations for them were
remarkably fulfilled in his children, and his
children's children.
He then began to comfort himself with the
sweet thought, that he should ere long be with
his old friends, who were gone before him. He
instanced by name those famous divines of the
University, who had been the guides of his
youth ; his colleagues, who had shared the toils
of his ministry ; and his consort, with such of
their children and grandchildren as had pre
ceded him to the kingdom of God ? When
some that stood by began to speak of his great
usefulness, and the loss they must suffer in
parting with him, he cried out ; — " Alas, alas !
VOL. II. 13

146 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
use no such words concerning me ; for I have
been an unprofitable servant, not worthy to be
called a servant of the Lord : but I must say,
The Lord be merciful to me a sinner ! and I
must say, Let thy tender mercies come unto
me, O Lord ; even thy salvation according . to
thy word."
The evening before he died, his daughter
asked after his health. Lifting his hand, he
said ; — " Vanishing things ! vanishing things ! "
He then prayed most affectionately with and for
his friends. After this he reposed in quiet, till
he gave up the ghost into the hands of his
fellow-servants, the angels. This weary pil
grim reached -the heavenly rest, on the seventh
day of August, in the year of grace 1667, in the
seventy-ninth year of his age. Thus went
home that ripened saint, of whom, when he left
the land of his birth, an eminent personage
said ; — " New England shall flourish, free from
all general desolations, as long as that good
man liveth in it."
His funeral obsequies were attended with
mournful solemnity. A lamentation was then
pronounced by Rev. Richard Mather, from the
appropriate text ; — " Your fathers, where are
they ? and the prophets, do they live forever ? "
Years afterward, one who knew him exclaimed,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 147
on a great public occasion ; — " Blessed Wilson !
thy body, thy dust, remaineth still in Bos
ton. But where is thy spirit? where is thy
zeal ? "
His movable property, at his death, was
valued at £419. 14s. 6d. It was distributed by
his will chiefly to his son Rev. John Wilson, jr.
of Medfield, to his daughter Mary, wife of Rev.
Samuel Danforth, of Roxbury, and to John
Wilson, a minor child of his son Edward,
" Doctor of Physick, and late of London."
Very numerous small bequests were made, as
one to " my ancient and good friend, Mrs.
Norton, as a small expression of my affectionate
love to her." Similar testimonials were left to
nine or ten of the neighboring ministers : nor
were the poor of his church forgotten.
During his sojourn in this wilderness, Mr.
Wilson had his share of those afflictions by
which God chastens his children. He was
several times burnt out with considerable loss of
his property, to which he cheerfully submitted.
He was once returning from a journey, when a
person met him on the road with the intelli
gence ; — " Sir, I have sad news for you: while
you have been abroad, your house is burnt."
To which the homeless man, nothing discon
certed, promptly replied ; — " Blessed be God !

148 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
He has burnt this house, because he intends to
give me a better." He probably meant in these
words to speak figuratively, of a heavenly habi
tation : but it was granted unto him according to
the letter.
Sore bereavements came upon him, by which
he was broken with breach upon breach. His
eldest son, a truly pious and accomplished gen
tleman, had completed his education by study
ing first in Holland and then in Italy, where he
took his degree as doctor in medicine. He then
went back to England adorned with every
quality which could excite the fond expectations
of his friends. Their hopes were blasted. He
died about the year 1658. This sorrow has
tened the death of his mother, ere the year
came round, more than doubling the father's
grief. Still deep called unto deep to make his
afflictions more profound. His eldest daughter,
the wife of the excellent and reverend Ezekiel
Rogers, the founder of the church and town of
Rowley, soon after died, as also her only
child. The widowed and heart-broken father
stood by her grave in patient sorrow. The
funeral service done, he took the spade himself,
and threw in the first shovelful of dust unto
dust j — " In token," as he said, " of his grounded
and joyful hopes, to meet her again in the

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 149
morning of the resurrection ; and of his willing
ness to resign her into the hands of Him who
would make all things work together for good."
Mr. Wilson suffered a succession of griefs in
the family of his second daughter, the wife of
the learned and reverend Samuel Danforth,
minister of Roxbury. When this worthy couple
were affianced, sometime previous to their mar
riage, which took place in 1651, Mr. Cotton
preached a betrothal sermon, according to an
old custom of New England. In December,
1659, the eldest child of this family suddenly
died. Though less than six years old, this little
one was so bright an example of piety, that she
was quoted as a sort of commentary on that ex
pression of the prophet ; — " The child shall die
an hundred years old." The affectionate grand
parent vented his sorrows and consolations in
some verses, among which were the follow
ing ;— " And what if God their other children call,
Second, third, fourth, suppose it should be all? "
And it was even so. Within a fortnight's time,
the three were carried away by the croup,
which had proved so fatal to the first. The old
man wept for these darlings, to whom he was
attached with all the doating fondness that often
marks that relationship. But while one of the
13*

150 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
bodies was lying by the walls of the church
waiting its interment, which was on a day of
public thanksgiving, the aged sufferer preached
" a most savory sermon," from the words of the
bereaved and patient Job ; — " The Lord hath
given, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed
be the name of the Lord ! " It is indeed easy
to bless a giving God : — but ah, what grace it
needs to be able with full contentment to bless a
taking God !
Other children were afterwards given to this
desolated family, of whom some lived, and
attained to distinction. The first of these was
so weakly an infant, that no one thought he
could live. But his grandfather would have the
child named for himself, saying ; — " Call him
John. I believe in God he shall live, and be a
prophet too, and do God service in his genera
tion." That child grew up before the Lord;
and, for near half a century, was the faithful
minister of Dorchester.
Mr. Wilson, in his numerous bereavements,
could respond to the sentiment of one of the
Greek fathers ; — "Was Job miserable when he
had lost all that God had given him ? No, he
had still that God who gave him all." He felt
with one of his non-conforming brethren in
England at that time, Rev. James Burdwood,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 151
that " it is better to be preserved in the brine of
affliction, than to rot in the honey of prosperity."
As good Mr. Danforth said in the hearing of
his father-in-law, at the obsequies of the very
children of whom we have been speaking; —
" The holy fire is not to be fetched out of such
a flint as I am, without smiting."
Like most men in whom the habit of prayer
is become intense and all-absorbing, he often
felt great confidence that his supplication should
be granted. The Sadducees of our times coolly
call these things, when the event coincides with
the expectation, " singular coincidences," " re
markably accidental ! " But when we consider
that the people of God, in the long continuing
Bible times, often had such assurance of faith as
to the success of their petitions ; and when we
consider that the Bible promises that God in all
ages shall be the hearer of effectual, fervent and
believing prayer ; we ought not to be utterly
faithless as to such matters. It is true, that
great caution ought to be exercised in regard to
a " particular faith," so deceitful is the heart,
and so prone to receive its own wayward impul
ses for the movements and suggestions of the
Spirit of God. Some of the best of men, like
Cromwell's chaplain, and the eloquent White-
field, have found themselves grossly mistaken in

152 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.

some strong impressions to which they gave
utterance. But let us learn to be cautious,
without doubting the efficacy of prayer. Let us
neither believe too much nor too little. It is
a wise faith, says a sound divine, " which is
neither over-froward, nor over-forward."
We have already incidentally touched upon
several instances of Mr. Wilson's special gift of
faith. Many others are recorded, of which
some were only such prognostications as an
aged man might draw from long observation of
the ordinary course of God's providence. Thus
observing a young man exceedingly kind and
duteous to a poor and infirm mother, Mr.
Wilson said ; — *' I charge you to take notice of
what I say. God will certainly bless that young
man : John Hull shall grow rich, and live to be
a useful servant of God." John Hull accord
ingly became a wealthy and most beneficent
man, and died a respected magistrate. At an
other time Mr. Wilson was crossing a ferry. A
young man in the boat spoke very insolently to
his aged father. The faithful pastor, greatly
troubled, rebuked the offender, saying ; —
" Young man, I advise you to repent of your
undutiful, rebellious carriage towards your
father. I expect else to hear, that God has cut
you off, before a twelvemonth come to an end ! "

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 153
And sure enough, within that time, this un
happy breaker of the fifth commandment, strag
gling off to the southward, was taken and cut to
pieces by the hostile Pequods. In these two
cases, the man of God doubtless ventured his
predictions by reason of his extensive observa
tion of the fact, that filial piety is usually
rewarded, and filial impiety commonly punished
in the life that now is.
But there are other instances recorded of his
foresight of events, which are not so easily
accounted for. A few of them will be here
rehearsed. •
When Mr. Wilson was living at Sudbury in
England, he and other worthy ministers were
silenced by the Bishop of Norwich, as has
already been related. The informer and prose
cutor was a man by the name of Bird, who
proved to be " a bird of ill omen." This person
was taken sick, and attended by a celebrated
physician, Dr. Duke of Colchester. The phy
sician left his patient, as he thought, safely
recovered: and calling upon Mr. Wilson, men
tioned the occurrence. " Recovered ! " exclaimed
Mr. Wilson, "you are mistaken, Mr. Doctor :
he is a dead man." The physician confidently
replied ; — " If ever I recovered a sick man in
my life, that man is recovered." But Mr.

154 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
Wilson as confidently insisted ; — " No, Mr.
Doctor ; he is a dead man. He shall not live.
Mark my words ! " Dr. Duke gave an incred
ulous smile : but as it happened, before he
departed, the tidings came, that his patient was
no more. We may imagine his emotions at
hearing this news under such circumstances.
During his ministry at Sudbury, he seems to
have had something approaching to the special
gift of " discerning of spirits." He was ad
ministering the sacrament of the Lord's Supper,
when a man presented himself as a communi
cant, v»ho for some time had been absent, and
consorted with the Papists. Mr. Wilson pub
licly addressed him to the following effect.
" Brother, you here present yourself, as if you
would partake in the holy supper of the Lord.
You cannot be ignorant of what you have done
in withdrawing yourself from our communion,
and how you have been much conversant for a
considerable while with those whose religion is
anti-christian. Though we cannot absolutely
charge you with it, God, who is the Searcher of
hearts, knows whether you have defiled yourself
with their worship and way. If it be so, and
you have not repented of it, by offering to par
take at this time in the- Holy Supper, you will
eat and drink your own damnation. But if you

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 155

are clear, and have nothing of this wherewith
to charge yourself, which you yourself know,
then may you receive." Under this solemn
adjuration, the man ventured to take the sacra
ment : but soon after, goaded by the stings of
a remorseful conscience, ended his life as Judas
did. Mr. Wilson was once going from Hartford to
Weathersfield. He was attended by a Mr.
Adams, who was followed by the news, that his
daughter was taken suddenly and dangerously
ill. Mr. Wilson, raising his eyes to heaven,
began to wrestle mightily in prayer for her life.
" Lord," said he " wilt thou now take away thy
servant's child, when thou seest he is attending
on thy poor unworthy servant in most Christian
kindness ? Oh, do it not ! " Then turning to
the distressed parent, he said ; — " Brother, I
trust your daughter shall live. I believe in God
she shall recover of this sickness." It was
indeed granted to him according to his faith.
The young woman was remarkably restored to
health, and lived to become the mother of a
worthy family.
About the year 1655, the Lord Protector
Cromwell, tried to induce the New England
settlers to migrate to the West Indies, and peo
ple the islands he had wrested from the Span-

156 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
iards. In this scheme he enlisted the excellent
Daniel Gookin, the Major-General of Massachu
setts : but without succeeding. There was,
however, a 'company of the colonists very intent
upon the project ; and headed by a frantic en
thusiast, Thomas Venner, a cooper of Salem.
They called the chief magistrates and ministers
to a sort of synod, to give advice about the un
dertaking. They counseled the company, with
very weighty reasons to abandon the plan.
Venner, however, with some of his crew, stood
up and declared, that, notwithstanding this
advice, they were certain that they were called
of God to remove. Mr. Wilson arose, and
sternly replied ; — " Aye ! do you come to ask
counsel in so weighty a matter as this, and to
seek help from an ordinance of God in respect
to it ? And yet were aforehand resolved, that
you will go on ? Well, you may go, if you
will : but you shall not prosper. What ! do
you make a mock of God's ordinance ? " They
went on ; and the enterprise resulted in a com
plete failure. Venner, who had spent some
twenty years in New England, betook himself
to London. He was one of those confused, but
fiery fanatics, whom Carlyle oddly describes as
a sooty kitchen-chimney all in a roaring blaze,
fumy and flamy. Here he engaged with some

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 157
other frantic fifth -monarchy-men, in a plot to
blow up Cromwell with gunpowder in White
hall. But Oliver's vigilant police exploded the
plot. For leading an insurrection for the same
cause soon after the restoration of Charles II.,
poor Yenner was hanged and quartered January
the nineteenth, 1661. It required, indeed, but
little of the prophetic spirit to foresee that such
a person would come to an untimely and miser
able end.
In Mr. Wilson's view, it augured ill to any
one, to be an opposer of ecclesiastical order and
discipline. It boded no good. He was once on
a council called to settle some differences in a
church. He observed a man who was extremely
perverse, and a sore troubler of the peace of the
church. Upon this Mr. Wilson expressed to
the council his confidence, " that the jealousy
of God would set a mark upon that man, and
that the ordinary death of men should not befall
him." Nor was it long after, that the hapless
mortal fell into the power of the Indians, and
expired under the hands of his savage tor
mentors. In some of the affairs of his own family, Mr.
Wilson's faith was powerfully exercised.
His daughter Mary appears to have been his
youngest child, and the only one of his children
VOL. II. 14

158 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
born in this country. He took great delight in
her, and often called her " his New England
token." She was seized with a malignant
fever, which brought her so low, that every one
despaired of her life, except her father. He
summoned several ministers, and other Christian
friends, to keep a sort of household fast-day, to
pray for her life and soul. While listening to
the prayers of Mr. Cotton on this occasion, he
found his hopes raised to such a pitch, that he
did not hesitate to declare ; — " While I heard
Mr. Cotton at prayer, I was confident the child
should live ! " And live she did, to a good age,
eminent for her piety, and the mother of a
numerous and distinguished family. She became
the wife of Rev. Samuel Danforth, the faithful
pastor of Roxbury.
Mr. Wilson's younger son, when he was a
child, fell headlong, from a loft four stories
high, into the street. He was taken up for
dead, so battered and gored by his fall as to
strike the beholders with horror. But the fath
er's importunate prayers were wonderfully an
swered in the recovery of his child to life and
sense. He too, having taken a new lease of his
clay cottage, remained its tenant to a good old
age : and finally departed from it at Medfield,

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 159
where he had been for forty years, the useful
and honored pastor.
The elder son, Edmund, traveled in Italy,
with a view to perfect himself in the study of
medicine ; his chosen calling, which was then
cultivated with greater success in that country
than anywhere else. While there, he was in
continual peril from the popish Inquisition. The
constant prayers of the distressed father were
answered by a signal preservation. The young
gentleman was seized by that most unhallowed
" Holy Office." While he was under examina
tion, a friend of the Chief Inquisitor suddenly
arrived. Not having met this friend for many
years, the Inquisitor was put into such good
humor, as to invite his prisoner to dine with
him. At the table they became very sociable.
The Inquisitor here astonished the young Mr.
Wilson, by calling him by his true name,
instead of that which he had assumed for
greater safety during his travels. The formi
dable man also showed himself well acquainted
with the character of the father, and with the
zeal and industry by which he served the here
tics of New England. In this country, we
know not what espionage is.
Released from this peril, Edmund Wilson
was delivered from another of a different and

160 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
more formidable kind, and with a more noticea
ble interference of his faithful father's prayers.
We are about to relate an event which is extra
ordinary and right marvelous : but which no
studious, or philosophical, or devout mind will
pronounce to be incredible in itself. While the
young man was traveling in Italy, the anxious
father dreamed that he was himself transported
into that country, where he saw a fair tempter in
his son's apartment, striving with a thousand
blandishments to lure him from the path of vir
tue. Upon this the father was overheard by a
person who occupied the same couch, making
prayers to God full of agony, and then vehe
mently warning his tempted son to beware.
And now for the " singular coincidence," as
some will term it. A considerable time after
wards, the younger Mr. Wilson writes to his
father, that, on a certain night, which was found
to have been the same with that of the dream,
he was situated even as he appeared to be in his
parent's vision ; and that his chastity would
have been overcome by those caresses, had he
not been suddenly and powerfully impressed
with a remembrance of his father's prayers over
him, and the warnings he had so often given.
It was this that broke the snare of the fowler,
and enabled him, like the youthful Joseph in

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 161
Egypt, to avoid the pit, from which "whoso
pleaseth God shall escape," but " he that is
abhorred of the Lord shall fall therein."
It is a natural transition, to pass from Mr.
Wilson's praying to his preaching. During his
ministry in England, he had been much ad
mired as an argumentative and logical preacher.
But when he came to Boston, and was associ
ated as pastor with such famous teachers as
Cotton and Norton, he restricted himself chiefly
to exhorting and admonishing the flock. He
usually spoke in the later services, taking the
same text which his colleague had previously
handled in a doctrinal manner. He strove to
put an edge upon the truth which had been de
livered, and drive it home to the heart. Such
was the pastoral unction with which he spake,
that the celebrated Mr. Shepard would say ; —
" Methinks I hear an apostle, when I hear this
man." The last time he preached the Boston
Thursday lecture, which was then a great occa
sion, he was obliged to take the place of a
preacher who had disappointed them. It was
on the sixteenth of November, 1665. Mr. Wil
son spoke extemporaneously on a text which
had caught his attention in the chapter, Jere
miah 29, read at morning prayer in his family.
The words were these ; — " For thus saith the
14*

162 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, let not your
prophets, and your diviners, that be in the midst
of you, deceive you ; neither hearken to your
dreams which ye cause td be dreamed." This
discourse was taken in short hand, and printed
about twelve years after his death. It is a most
pathetic Warning against the dreamers of his
day, to wit, the Quakers, who were then caus
ing much disturbance. Every line seems trem
ulous with the anxieties of the shepherd for his
flock, while the howling of the wolves is rend
ing his ears. " Go not after these enthusiasts,"
was his monitory cry, " for, whatever they may
pretend, they will rob you of your ordinances,
rob you of your souls, rob you of your God."
The last time Mr. Wilson spoke in the pul
pit, was in that of Mr. Danforth, his son-in-law,
at the weekly lecture in Roxbury. His text was
gathered from the beginnings and endings of the
last five Psalms, sometimes called, from this
peculiarity, the Hallelujah Psalms. Having
read them with great animation and spirit, he
exclaimed ; — " If I were sure this were to be
the last sermon that ever I should preach, and
these the last words that ever I should speak,
yet I would still say, Hallelujah, hallelujah,
praise ye the Lord ! " With him it was but a

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 163
natural transition from the Alleluias of earth to
those of heaven.
Speaking of these weekly lectures, it may be
well to mention, that the ministers with many of
their people, attended not only their own, but
those in the neighboring towns, which, for this
reason, were held on different days of the week,
either weekly, semi-monthly, or monthly, as the
case might be. They were occasions of great
resort. The diaries of Winthrop, Sewall, and
other distinguished magistrates, make constant
allusions to them. It was a godly sight, to see
large companies of Christians, with their pastors
at their head, flocking to the lecture in the neigh
bor-town, and communing of Christ by the way,
till their hearts burned within them. Till the
infirmities of old age prevented, Mr. Wilson de
lighted to attend this duty, through storm or
shine, with unweariable constancy. He feared
not the unventilated and unwarmed churches.
One of his brethren said, in some home-spun
elegiacs, containing more truth than poetry,
" Christ's word, it was his life ; Christ's church his care :
And so great with him his least brethren were,
Nor heat, nor cold, not rain, or frost, or snow,
Could hinder, but he'd to their lectures go."
The fathers of New England manifested an in
comparable zeal in the duties of private and

164 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
public devotion, family religion and govern
ment, and sanctification of the Sabbath. Shall
that " golden age" ever return ? " Oh Lord
God, thou knowest ! "
After what has been incidentally, said, it is
scarcely necessary to speak of Mr. Wilson's
pastoral qualities. In him was verified the
beautiful similitude of the fond and faithful
shepherd, watching, defending, guiding and
feeding his flock ; a flock which knew his
voice, loved his person, and followed his lead
ing to " the pastures of tender grass" and to
" the waters of quietness." * When " grievous
wolves" drew nigh, he failed not to assail them
with the utmost boldness and vigor, assisted by
his sagacious watch-dogs, the godly magis
trates. As a pastor, he knew that he had a
special charge from the Great Shepherd to
" feed his lambs," which are in truth " the hope
of the flock." He "gathered them with his
arm, and carried them in his bosom." He
strenuously insisted, that Christ's own mark
should be put upon them, the sacred seal of
baptism : and contended earnestly for their cov
enant-rights, and especially that they should be

* Psalm 23 : 2, marginal readings.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 165
" nourished up in the words of faith and of good
doctrine." He cheerfully, and not ungraciously, stooped
to the humblest means of rendering himself ser
viceable to the souls of men. And when, in his
old age, the failure of his voice cut him off from
public ministrations in his great congregation,
he spent the last remainders of his strength in
visiting his people from house to house. He
still put to good use his eminent powers of con
versation. To many he sent, as need required,
warnings or consolations, by letters and copies
of verses. To the last of his life, he never abated
" His care to guide his flock, and feed his lambs,
By words, works, prayers, psalms, alms and anagrams."
There was nothing imposing in his personal
appearance. " His bodily presence was weak."
Johnson of Woburn, who knew him well and
greatly revered him, speaks of him in this par
ticular as " a weak, sorry man," and casually
alludes to his " thick utterance." But these
outward disadvantages were so compensated by
spiritual succors, that his usefulness was not
diminished. The grace of God often and won
derfully renders such slender reeds the firm and
sufficient supports of his eternal temple.
During his ministry of thirty-seven years in

166 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
Boston, there were added to his church four
hundred and ninety-nine males, and five hun
dred and forty-eight females. The total of one
thousand and forty-seven gives an average of
nearly thirty annual admissions for the whole
period of his ministry. Taking into considera
tion his labors in the gospel for near twenty
years in his native country, of which we only
know that they were eminently successful in
winning souls to Christ, we must regard him as
a servant whom his Lord delighted to honor.
We doubt not that he shines in the firmament of
glory, as one who, by the grace of God, " turned
many to righteousness."
The number of children baptized by him
during his pastorship in Boston was, of males,
nine hundred and thirty-one ; and of females
eight hundred and twenty-two. The total ot
one thousand seven hundred and fifty-three,
gives an annual average of nearly fifty, thus
enfolded in the embrace of the church, and
cherished on her bosom. Of these, two-fifths,
probably, were soon laid to sleep in their grass-
covered cradles, and " went unto Jesus" in their
infancy. We have already alluded to his extreme gen
erosity, ever emptying his purse to relieve the
needy. Though this Boanerges was a son of

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 167
thunder, ready to flash fire from heaven upon
the heads of gross errorists and seducers of the
people, he had withal a heart of melting pity
when he saw them struck down to the ground
by the electric stroke. He testified with a
dauntless zeal against all offences. Like the
beloved apostle whose name he bore, he showed
no quarter to false teachers. He could say ; —
" If there come any unto you, and bring not this
doctrine, receive him not into your house, neither
bid him God speed." And yet, like that same
apostle, he had an overflowing tenderness of
heart, full of love and endearment. " When
malefactors had been openly scourged upon the
just sentence of authority, he would presently
send for them to his house : and having first ex
pressed his bounty to them, he would then
bestow upon them such gracious admonitions
and exhortations, as made them to become,
instead of desperate, remarkably penitent." It
may be questioned whether the boasted peniten
tiary system of our times is any very marked
improvement upon his.
He is a proof of the mistake of those, who
take their ideas wholly from Dr. South, and
king Charles' cavalier preachers. They look
upon an ancient Puritan as resembling one of
the old-fashioned box-stoves we used to have

168 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
in our churches some twenty years ago, with its
stiff plates, its sharp angles, its grim and gloomy
complexion, looking as if devoid of feeling itself,
but ready to blister you, if you so much as touch
it with your finger. Such notions of the Puri
tans may well be dissipated by one little inci
dent. Mr. Wilson was once looking at a great
muster of soldiers on the common. A gentle
man said to him ; — " Sir, I will tell you a great
thing : here is a mighty body of people, and
there is not seven of them all but what loves
Mr. Wilson." The good man pleasantly re
plied ; — " Sir, I will tell you as good a thing as
that : here is a mighty body of people, and
there is not so much as one of them, but what
Mr. Wilson loves." Surely the secret of being
loved, is to be loving ourselves.
For hospitality he was renowned. His house
was the stranger's home.
No less was he famed for his poetic gift,
which the taste of his times held in high esti
mation. He was continually exercising this
faculty ; sending his effusions in all directions,
especially for the consolation of mourners. His
verses were carried, like the handkerchiefs from
Paul, for the healing of wounded souls. His fer
tile fancy could see an allegory in every event.
In the year 1626, he published some verses at

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 169
London, upon the famous deliverances of the
English nation. They were reprinted by his
son at Boston, in 1680 : but no copy of them is
known to be in existence. Though Poesy may
not mourn the loss, Piety may regard the priva
tion with regret.
Another fancy which Mr. Wilson indulged
was the making of anagrams on the names of
all his friends and acquaintance.* He made
these " difficult trifles" both numerously and
nimbly. And if they were not often ingenious
or exact, they were always instructive. If he
could not readily fetch good matter from some
untractable name, he would force it, rather than
lose the moral. The scion was often more fruit-

* An anagram is such a transposition of the letters which compose
a person's name, as to form some significant word or phrase. Thus
Mr. Wilson, hearing Increase Mather, then a young man, preach
upon the glory of Christ, made on the spot an anagram of his name
in Latin, Crescentius Matherus, which he turned into ' ' En, Christua
merces lua," — " Lo ! Christ is thy reward." A nearly perfect ana
gram, and quite characteristic of the man, was made on the name
John Willson, often so spelled ; — " Wish no one ill." On his hearse
was the following, which shows the taste of the times, though Cot
ton Mather tells us, that " some thought the Muses looked very
much dissatisfied " to see them there.
" JOHN WILSON.
Anagram.
John Wilson.
Oh ! change it not ; no sweeter name or thing,
Throughout the world, within our ears shall ring ! "
VOL. II. 15

170 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
ful than the stock on which it was grafted. The
best anagram made upon his own name was by
Rev. Nathaniel Ward of Ipswich, alias Theo
dore de la Guard, alias " The Simple Cobbler of
Agawam." This queer writer, alluding to the
generous and unbounded hospitality of the Bos
ton pastor, said of him ; — " The anagram of
John Wilson is, I pray you, come in, yotj are
HEARTILY WELCOME ! "
This good man's humility was the preserva
tive of his graces. It was a fitting casket for
those jewels, a casket as rare and precious as
any thing it contained. Sometimes, indeed, his
unfeigned modesty was excessive. He had once
promised to preach for a neighboring minister :
but afterwards came in sufficient good season to
excuse himself. " Sir," said he, " I told you
that I would preach for you, but it was rashly
done of me ; I have on my knees begged 'the
pardon of it from the Lord, that I should offer
thus to deprive his people of your labors, which
are so much better than any of mine can be.
Wherefore, Sir, I now come seasonable to tell
you, that I shall fail you." No persuasion
could induce him to change this last purpose of
his excessive humility. He may be the more
easily pardoned for this fault, considering that it
is so rarely committed.

LIFE OF JOHN WILSON. 171
From the same cause, he would never suffer
his portrait to be taken. Though often and
urgently importuned by his friends, their en
treaties on this point were unavailing. He
would still reply ; — " What ! such a poor vile
creature as I am ! shall my picture be drawn ?
I say, No; it never shall." His honored kins
man, Edward Rawson, long the secretary of the
Colony, once introduced the artist with all his
apparatus ; but he could neither be surprised
nor supplicated into yielding his consent. There
is, it is true, a portrait of him, most venerable to
behold, in the gallery of the Massachusetts His
torical Society. But it was probably taken after
his decease, as is often done. It has the rigid
and cadaverous look, which, in such cases, the
best skill of the limner cannot wholly avoid.
Cotton Mather, however, to whom we are
greatly indebted for the materials wrought into
this sketch, has well delineated Mr. Wilson's
character, the features of which are more impor
tant than those of his countenance. His words
may suitably close this imperfect delineation of
an admirable man. " If the picture of this
good, and therein great, man, were to be exactly
given, great zeal, with great love, would be the
two principal strokes, that, joined with ortho
doxy, should make up his portraiture."

172 LIFE OF JOHN WILSON.
And now we drop the curtain over the acts
and scenes in the life of this worthy. When the
curtains of eternity shall be drawn aside, and
the heavens rolled away as a scroll, at the sig
nal of the last trumpet, in what blessedness
shall we see him, robed in righteousness,
crowned with light, and throned in glory for-
evermore !

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.

15*

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.

CHAPTER I.
Preliminary Remarks. Birth of John Norton. Education. Peter-
House, Cambridge. Romish Priest. Teacher and curate at Storford.
Conversion. Becomes a zealous Puritan. Church Reform. Mr.
Norton declines a benefice and a fellowship. Becomes a Chaplain.
Marries. Resolves to repair to America. With T. Shepard at
Yarmouth. Adventure with Pursuivant. Embarkation. Perilous
Storm. Driven back to Yarmouth. Mr. Norton resumes his voy
age next year. Sails for Plymouth with Gov. Winslow. Another
terrible Storm. Winter at Plymouth. Removal to Boston. Debate
with French Friar. Mr. Norton's scholastic learning. John Cot
ton on the Schoolmen. Synod of 1637. Mr. Norton ordained at
Ipswich. New England Prayer-meetings. Giles Firmin's account.
Morality of the Colony. N. Ward's testimony. New England's
first Fruits. Sir James Mackintosh. Reply to Apollonius. Horn-
beck. Fuller. Fraternal Reproof. Letter to Dury. Union of
Sects. Evils of division. New England divines thetrue "Reformed
Catholics." Election Sermons. Synod of 1646. Boston Church
refuses attendance. Persuaded by Mr. Norton. Cambridge Plat
form. Richard Baxter. Mr. Pyncheon's heretical book. Confuted
by Mr. Norton. "Orthodox Evangelist." Scheme of Doctrine.
Political influence of Calvinism. Macaulay. Bancroft. The ben
efits conferred by Calvinism in New England.
There are some dark lanterns, which burn,
but shine not: men of illuminated minds, who
yet shed no light upon the minds of others. And

176 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
some there are, like an ice-block glistening in the
moon-beams, which shines indeed, but with the
cold and cheerless rays of far-fetched and oft-
reflected light. But he is the man of God, in
whom the burning fire of love and zeal radiates
the cheering light of truth and salvation. Such
an one was that John, to whom Jesus bare wit
ness, that he was both a burning and a shining
light. Happy is the church, in which, like the tab
ernacle of old, the fire that comes down from
heaven kindles in the golden candlestick, and
burns on the glowing altar. The flame of the
branching lamp, fed by the oil of grace, shines
as it was wont in heaven, revealing something
of heaven itself. And the same hallowed fire,
as it blazes on the altar, sheds abroad the fra
grance of its incense breathing sweets; and,
with its genial heat, warms into life and action
the sacred passions of the soul.
He, of whom we are now to speak, was a
luminary of this kind, and of no inferior magni
tude. He burned with heavenly love, and shone
with living light. " There was light in his fire,
and fire in his light." He was " a bright, par
ticular star," in Christ's right hand: and though
now far down toward the horizon, yet in the time
of his ascendant, there were many that rejoiced

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 177
in his light, and were guided by it, like the wise
men, unto Christ. They hailed it as a star of
hopeful guidance through the perilous night-
voyage of life, and over its surging seas.
John Norton was born of respectable parent
age, on the sixth of May, 1606, at Storford in
Hartfordshire. In the spring-time of his life, -
he blossomed profusely with such flowers of the
mind, as gave promise of rich fruit in his riper
years. He early acquired the power of writing
Latin with uncommon elegance, which proved to
him in after years a very useful accomplishment.
At fourteen years of age, he was entered at
Peter-House in the University of Cambridge.
Here he remained, noted for his scholarship, till
he had taken his first degree. Soon after grad
uating, in consequence of the utter ruin of his
father's estate, he was forced to leave the Uni
versity, and betake himself to active employment
for the means of subsistence. During his abode
at that seat of learning, his eminent talents drew
the attention of a Romish priest, who, coveting
such a prize, used his best endeavors to win him
over to the papal cause. But the youth, though
as yet a stranger to the grace of God, resisted
the temptations of this seducer of souls.
Being naturally of a gay and light-hearted
temper, he indulged in dancing, card-playing,

178 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
and other youthful vanities. The admonitions
of a pious servant of his father, first led him to
more serious thoughts, and induced him to follow
"such things as are of good report."
On leaving the University, he at once, young
as he was, became usher to the school and curate
to the church in Storford, his native place. In
that town a weekly lecture was maintained by a
company of devout aad able ministers, with sev
eral of whom he became acquainted. One of
these was Rev. Jeremiah Dyke, rector of Epping;
a divine of considerable note. Under the search
ing ministry of Mr. Dyke, the young curate was
awakened to a deep sense of the sin and misery
of his unregenerate state. The deep conviction
of guilt he felt in his heart, till he was driven
nearly to despair. Thus he mourned a while
beneath the dark and boding cloud which lower
ed over his drooping soul. The Spirit of God,
the only efficient Comforter of such mourners,
disclosed to him the grace of Christ, and the
consoling promises of the gospel. His rejoicing
was equal to his sorrow. He now felt himself
truly called of God to the work of the ministry ;
and felt it his duty, now that he was converted,
to strengthen his brethren.
His thorough classical studies well fitted him
for the study of theology, to which Lord Bacon,

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 179
himself no mean theologian, assigns the throne
as queen of the sciences, who are her minislrant
princesses. Addicting himself to divinity, which
he cultivated with the life and affection of an
experimental christian, he became an able min
ister, and rose to high repute. He wrote in a
sententious and vigorous style. He was fond of
pointed and figurative expressions. His senten
ces, though not polished in our fine modern
fashion, were usually condensed and forcible.
He delighted in the warm and living presentation
of the Saviour ; and came up to his own admira
ble maxim, that " Christ evidently held forth is
divine eloquence."
He was one of the old staunch Puritans,
immovably grounded upon the doctrines of
grace ; and with a conscience perfectly inflexible,
when once set right. His dislike of Arminian-
ism rose even to an antipathy, from the time
when he was " touched by the sceptre of grace."
His orthodoxy, and much more his unwillingness
to submit to things which had been imposed on
the church in derogation from the kingly power
of Christ, kept Mr. Norton down. He could not
expect to rise to the quiet enjoyment of any
preferment, in an age when the lordly prelates
used to say, that men of his stamp " must not be
allowed to rise till the resurrection day."

180 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
The history of the Church, in the main, pre
sents a succession of corruptions and reforms.
The Jewish church, at intervals, was like gold
seven times refined. But, during intervening
ages, corruption dimmed the burnished metal,
and destroyed its ductility by large alloys
of base and drossy mineral. By his prophets,
God promised his people a thorough purification;
as when he said ; — " I will turn my hand upon
thee, and purely purge away thy dross, and take
away all thy tin." Refining is a work which
may diminish the quantity, but it much more
increases the value of what remains. All that
is lost by it proves to be clear gain. By the
removal of what is taken away, the precious
residue is restored to its real worth, utility and
beauty. Happy is the Church when thus
" purely purged " and reduced to her primitive
state and order. Then is the promise fulfilled ; —
" I will restore thy judges as at the first, and thy
counselors as at the beginning : afterward thou
shalt be called, The city of righteousness, The
faithful city."
The Christian Church furnishes a striking
parallel to that of the Mosaic. Here too, the
golden age of pristine purity was short. The
rich mass of virgin ore soon suffered repeated
alloys of the soft tin of human additions, and be-

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 181
gan to be cankered with the eating rust of cor
ruption. At last, the pious beholder was forced
to cry out with the prophet bewailing the captive
daughter of Zion ; — " How is the gold become
dim ! how is the most fine gold changed !"
Then, in the times of reformation, God purified
his Church in the hot crucible of divine judg
ments and fiery trials. And so the word came
to pass ; — " He is like a refiner's fire ; — and he
shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver ; and
he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them
as gold and silver, that they may offer unto the
Lord an offering in righteousness."
By his royal prerogative, God recalled the
Church into his mint, and purged the debased
and adulterated currency; and then re-coined
and re-issued it, pure and bright, and stamped
afresh with his own sovereign image and super
scription. But this grand reformation was not wrought
out without the use of the fire and the hammer.
It was in the height of this terrible, but necessary
operation, that our puritan fathers lived and
acted. As Mr. Norton said ; — " The best of the
servants of God have lived in the worst of times."
It was in the midst of such trials and excite
ments, that his character was formed, and his
religious principles developed. He there attained
VOL. II. 16

182 LIFE, OF JOHN NORTON.
to that conscientious integrity, which no worldly
interest could warp.
His uncle would have presented him to a
Valuable benefice, whjch he was obliged to de-,
cline in consequence of his scruples against the
ceremonies which were enforced, to the infringe
ment of the royal rights of Jesus in his kingdom.
He was also earnestly solicited by Dr. Sibbs,
Master of Katharine Hall in Cambridge, to accept
a fellowship in, the University, for which his
abilities eminently fitted him. This too, he
declined, because the office was hampered; with
conditions which he conscientiously held to be
unlawful in the sight of God.
Thus precluded from other employment, he
contented himself with the duties of chaplain in
the house of Sir William Masham, at High
Lever, in Essex. Here he resided for some
time, waiting for a more public opportunity to
exercise his ministry, preaching as he had oppor
tunity, and rapidly improving all his qualifica
tions for so great a work. Though highly
esteemed for his abilities, he was, after a time,
utterly silenced for his non- conformity.
Convinced, at last, that he could not hope to
worship God according to the decisions of his
enlightened conscience, in his native land, he
turned his thoughts to America, and to " the

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 183
church in the wilderness." Mr. Norton was
then recently married to a lady of handsome
property, and of estimable character, and who
cheerfully accompanied him to what was the
" Far West " of those times : a region so remote,
that it was fancied the last conflict with anti*
christ must be decided there.
They accordingly repaired to Yarmouth,
about the middle of September, 1634, to take
ship for New England. Here they were joined
by that famed servant of God, Rev. Thomas
Shephard, afterwards pastor of Cambridge, where
Harvard College was located for the express
purpose of placing the scholars under the influ
ence of his powerful ministry. While these
clergymen tarried at Yarmouth awaiting the
sailing Of their vessel, which was near two
months, a few pious people privately resorted to
their preaching. This Was matter of no small
peril, as vigilant measures were adopted for their
apprehension. Mr. Shepard was in great dan
ger, as the animosity of archbishop Laud was
excited to special fury against him.
The chief pursuivant made an arrangement
with a boy, some sixteen years of age, who
lived in the house where these ministers were
secreted, and to which they had been tracked.
The youth, on the promise of a considerable

184 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
sum of money, agreed to open the door for these
emissaries at a certain hour of the night. After
this plot was laid, the unhappy traitor was much
affected by hearing the solemn and religious
conversation, of Mr. Shepard, and began to re
pent. His pensive and troubled appearance
roused his master to question him for the cause ;
and, after much urging, he made full confession
of his intended treachery. The good man of
the house obtained the aid of some trusty friends,
who conveyed the ministers away by a retired
lane, and carried them in a boat to another hid
ing-place. The officers came at the time ap
pointed : but, on lifting the latch, Were thoroughly
vexed to find the door firmly closed against
them. In their irritation, they exceeded their
authority by attempting a forcible entry. They
had thrust their staves under, the door, and were
in the act of lifting it from the hinges, when
they were caught in this house-breaking busi
ness by some friends of the owner who had
employed them for the purpose. The ungentle
handling they received, added to the mortification
of the officers at losing the prey of whose cap
ture they felt so sure. This was one of the little
comic scenes which sometimes relieved the
many and melancholy acts of the tragedy of
persecution. The incident may serve a more

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 185
important purpose, as illustrating the power of
a holy conversation to awaken the conscience of
the wicked, as in the case of that misguided
youth. It also teaches a lesson of trust in the
providential protection of God over his suffering
servants, who are often snatched from the very
jaws of the lion.
It was late in that year, 1634, when these
good men succeeded at last in setting sail from
Harwich, in the Great Hope, a ship of four hun
dred tons, commanded by an able captain, of the
name of Girling. Within a few hours from
their setting out, they met with a succession of
disasters. At night, they came to anchor in a
dangerous place. In the morning, the wind be
came violent, and drove the ship toward the
sands near Harwich harbor, till she grated heav
ily upon them. But she still drifted along, in the
direction of Yarmouth. At this juncture one of
the seamen was washed overboard. It was
sometime before any effort could be made to save
him : but after he had been about an hour in the
sea, though unable to swim, he was picked up
by three of the men in a boat, before life was
extinct. The vessel came to anchor in Yarmouth road.
The next morning, there arose a terrible west
erly gale of such devastating fury, that the day
16* *

186 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
was long afterwards known as " the windy Sat
urday." Many vessels, some in full view, per
ished with their crews. The Great Hope lost
all her upper works and her anchors, and drifted
till she was but little more than a cable's length
from the sands. The master cried out that they
were all dead men : and the whole ship's com
pany betook themselves to prayer. Thousands
of people on shore looked with unavailing pity
upon their distress, as they were still drifting
toward the raging breakers, where the staunch-
est ship must soon " melt amid the yeast of waves."
Some compassionate spectators offered large
sums of money to any that would go to help
them : but none durst venture. An officer of
rank, on the walls of Yarmouth castle, scoffingly
remarked, that he felt sorry for a poor collier in
the road : " but," said he, " as for the Puritans
in the other ship, I am not concerned; their
faith will save them." This unbelieving scoff
turned out very differently from the expectation
of him who uttered it.
Among the passengers, there was one Mr.
Cork, an intemperate man, who was no sailor,
though he had often been to sea. He had been
taken with the whim of going to New England,
to view the country. He saw what needed to
be done, and called upon the captain, who was

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 187
stupified with consternation, to cut away his
masts. The captain being unwilling, Cork pro
cured hatchets, called upon the master to be a
man, and encouraged the desponding seamen,
till they cut the mainmast away, just as they
had given themselves up for lost. They had
one small anchor left, which they dropped : but
the ship still drifted toward the spot where they
expected shortly to be swallowed up by the
waves. The trembling passengers saw the
breakers tumbling in their might, and roaring
for their prey, which the yelling winds were
forcing resistlessly toward them. The victims
were no strangers to the power of prayer, which
is able to save from death; or, what is better
still, to prepare for death the children of the
resurrection. Mr. Shepard assembled the mar
iners upon deck, and Mr. Norton gathered the
passengers, two hundred in number, below.
They then applied themselves to fervent prayer,
and found that their hope in God was the "best
bower," — an anchor both sure and steadfast.
The wind speedily abated : and the ship ceased
drifting just at the last extremity. They found
that their last cable had not parted, as they sup
posed it had; but only dragged the anchor,
which was not quite heavy enough to break it,
along the sandy bottom. The vessel rode out

188 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
the storm, though still very rough, and though
the cable was let out so far, that it was held only
by a small rope. One' of the company observed
this, and remarked; — "That thread we hang by
will save us !" And so indeed it did. The
passengers, astonished at their deliverance, felt
that if ever the Lord brought them to shore again,
they would live like men who had risen from the
dead. The next • morning, being the Sabbath,
they were conveyed to shore by boats from the
town. How applicable to them were the words
o.f the Psalm ; — " They cried unto the Lord in
their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their
distresses : he maketh the storm a calm, so that
the waves thereof are still."
The voyage of the ministers was thus de
feated for that season. Mr. Norton spent the
winter with his friends in Essex county ; where
his spiritual father, the excellent Mr. Dyke, joy
fully received him as one restored from another
world, rejoicing that his friend had so well sus
tained the trial of his faith.
Undaunted by his brief, but rough experience
of the dangers of the sea, Mr. Norton was ready
to resume his voyage the next year. Governor
Winslow was then in England as agent for the
Plymouth Colony. He was also authorized to
procure a teaching elder, to be colleague with

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 189
Rev. Ralph Smith, pastor of the church. The
worthy governor was happy to obtain for that
office a man so able as Mr. Norton. They
were fellow-voyagers to this country. At their
departure, an aged minister said ; — " I believe
there is not more grace and holiness left in all
Essex, than what Mr. Norton has carried away
with him."
Unavoidable delays made it late in 1635, be
fore they began the voyage. They came upon
our coast in the month of October. Here arose
another terrific tempest, which raged for eight
and forty hours with such force, that the ship
must have been knocked to pieces had she not
been built with more than usual strength. As
it was, " they used helps, undergirding the ship"
with the cable, to assist in holding her battered
sides together. It would seem as though " the
prince of the power of the air" raised all his
storms, to prevent these men of God from pro
ceeding on an enterprise which was destined to
endamage so greatly his kingdom of darkness.
They then saw " the works of the Lord, and his
wonders in the deep." Among other marvels,
they shipped a sea, which washed several of the
sailors overboard, and then threw them in again.
Such an event, though rare, has not been with
out other, and well authenticated examples.

190 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
Ten days afterwards, the ship came safe into
Plymouth harbor.
There Mr. Norton remained, and preached
through the winter. The church very courte
ously and importunately urged him, with large
offers, to settle among them. Mr. Smith also
resigned in his favor. But all would not do.
He alledged, that " his spirit could not close with
them : " though to his dying day, as Morton's
Memorial tells us, " he retained a good affec
tion unto them." The state of affairs in the
Massachusetts colony, was more congenial to
his feelings : and he removed to that jurisdic
tion in 1636, being then thirty years of age.
He speedily received a call to be teacher of
the church at Ipswich. Such things were not
hastily concluded in those days; and he re
mained sometime in Boston, deliberating the
matter. The neighboring ministers entertained
the highest opinion of him : and some that were
noted men, and older than he was, consulted
him in their most important affairs, as a sort of
oracle of wisdom. The magistrates also soon
began to avail themselves of his great abilities
in conducting some arduous matters. Among
other things, he held a public debate with a
French friar, who had roamed into these anti-
Roman parts. The Frenchman relied mainly

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 191
on the old scholastic logic : but he found in the
young Puritan a ripe scholar, and one thoroughly
versed in all the chief writings of the school
men. The friar retreated, surprised at his own
discomfiture in this trial of skill at dialectic
fencing. Mr. Norton, Mr. Stone, and others of our old
divines, though they despised the doctrines of
the schoolmen, had a high opinion of their
mode of arguing, on account of its brevity and
nice distinctions. John Cotton, in an introduc
tory epistle to one of, Mr. Norton's volumes,
thus explains the pre-eminence of the school
men, which lay, he says, " not in the light of
divine grace, whereof most of them were wholly
destitute ; nor in their skill in tongues and
polite literature, wherein they were barbarians ;
nor in their deeper insight into the holy Script
ures, in which they were far less conversant
than in Peter Lombard and Aristotle : but in
their rational disputes, with distinct solidity and
succinct brevity." Mr. Norton was a match for
any of them in their own craft :
" For he a rope of sand could twist,
As tough as learned Sorbonist."
His controversial skill was often called into
exercise : for in those days, as now, every thing

192 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
had to be discussed. He was an influential
member of the synod of 1637, which brought
the antinomian war to a close in a decisive
pitched battle, so that no severe conflict with
that heresy has since been waged in New Eng
land. Antinomianism was so effectually killed,
that it has never lifted up its head, not even in
this general resurrection of dead, buried and
long-forgotten errors, which is now taking place
around us.
It was not till the 20th of October, 1638, that
Mr. Norton was ordained as teacher of the
church in Ipswich, which was his first parochial
charge. On the same day, the Rev. Nathaniel
Rogers was ordained as pastor of that church.
Mr. Rogers himself preached the ordination
sermon, a much admired discourse from the
text ; — " Who is sufficient for these things ? "
That church was then renowned for its many
enlightened Christians and distinguished mem
bers; and felt itself happy in its celebrated
ministers, who, " with different gifts, but united
hearts," labored for them in the Lord. Mr.
Norton was followed to that place by a number
of families which came all the way from Eng
land on purpose to enjoy his ministry.
We may here take occasion to remark, that
for the first half century, the Massachusetts

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 193
churches were not only served by a very
learned, orthodox and zealous ministry : but
that the private brethren were exceedingly
active in the duties of social piety. The coun
try was full of their meetings for prayer and
religious conference, and continued to be so for
near a century. In these, the younger candi
dates for the ministry, made trial of their gifts,
and accustomed themselves to speak to the edi
fication of the church. Questions relating to
practical religion were there debated. A very
usual exercise in these small assemblies, was
the repeating of the sermons last preached by
the pastors, and which were taken down for the
purpose in short hand, an art more common
then than now. This repetition of the sermons
gave occasion to profitable comparisons of the
views of different hearers, as each stated how
his mind was affected by the truths delivered
from the pulpit. Thus was suggested an abun
dance of fruitful remarks, and the instructions
of the sanctuary were more deeply and indelibly
impressed. In these social meetings whole
days were sometimes spent in fasting and
prayer; especially if any in the neighborhood
were in affliction, or the administration of the
Lord's Supper were at hand. Those old Christ
ians were nobly skilled in the holy work of
vol. n. 17

194 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
prayer. In a book printed at London in 1681,
Giles Firmin, makes the following statement of
what he had often seen in this country; —
" Plain mechanics have I known, well catechized
and humble Christians, excellent in practical
piety. They kept their station, and did not
aspire to be preachers : but for gifts of prayer,
few clergymen must come near them. I have
known some of them, when they did keep their
fasts, — as they did often, — they divided the
work of prayer. The first begun with con
fession ; the second went on with petition for
themselves ; the third with petition for Church
and kingdom; the fourth with thanksgiving.
Every one kept his own part, and did not
meddle with another part. Such excellent mat
ter, so compacted without tautologies, each of
them for a good time, about an hour, if not more
a piece ; to the wondering of those which joined
with them. Here was no reading of liturgies.
These were old Jacob's sons : they could
wrestle and prevail with God." From such
witnesses as these, it is evident, that the pro
fessing Christians of those times eminently
prospered in religion, and grew strong in grace
under the laborious ministrations of their able
teachers. The tone of public morality was high. The

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 195
Rev. Nathaniel Ward was Mr. Norton's prede-
decessor at Ipswich. In a book once very cele
brated, Mr. Ward remarks; — "I thank God I
have lived in a colony of many thousand English
almost these twelve years, and am held a very
sociable man. Yet I may considerately say, I
never heard but one oath sworn, nor never saw
one man drunk, nor never heard of three women
guilty of adultery, in all that time, that I can
call to mind." In a document of those times, it
is said of New England ; — " As Ireland will not
brook venomous beasts, so will not that land
vile persons, and loose livers."* " To God's
praise be it spoken, one may live there from
year to year, and not see a drunkard, hear an
oath, or meet a beggar, "t Though we live in
sadly degenerate times, and the ancient simplic
ity and purity of manners are much impaired,
the traces of better days are still distinctly
visible. In a recorded conversation of Sir James
Mackintosh, that distinguished and philosophical
historian is reported to have said ; — " The
remarkable private morality of the New Eng
land States is worth attention, especially when
taken in connection with the very moral char-

* New England's First Fruits. Lond. 1643. p. 26.
t lb. p. 23.

196 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
acter of the poorer people in Scotland, Holland
and Switzerland. It is rather singular that all
these countries, which are more moral than any
others, are precisely those in which Calvinism
is predominant." Being told, upon this, that
Boston and Cambridge, for it was some thirty
years ago when this conversation took place,
had in a great measure abandoned Calvinism,
Sir James replied ; — " I am rather surprised at
that : but the same thing has happened in other
places similarly situated. Boston, Geneva and
Edinburgh might once have been considered as
the three high places of Calvinism ; and the
enemy is now, it seems, in full possession of
them all. The fact appears to be a consequence
of the principle of reaction, which operates as
universally in the moral as in the physical
world."* Since then, there has been another
" reaction " back again, which is still going on.
The much commended Orthodox morality can
not long survive the destruction of the Orthodox
truth and piety. Unless the tree shall revive,
the fruits must disappear.
The General Court, fully sensible that the
labors of the ministers diminished the cares of
government, by cherishing good order in the
* Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, &c. by Alexander H. Everett.
p. 301.

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 197
community, encouraged the clergy to the extent
of their means. Among numerous grants of
the kind, we find two hundred acres of land
voted to Mr. Norton, on the fifth of November,
1639. Besides his exertions for the benefit of his
flock, he made himself useful to the religious
community at large. He performed one special
service to the cause. In 1644, William Apol-
lonius, pastor of Middleburg, in Holland, at the
request of the divines of Zealand, sent a series
of questions, relating to church government, to
the Congregational ministers of London. The
London divines referred the matter to those of
New England : and these last unanimously
devolved the duty of replying upon Mr. Norton.
With that modesty and humility which he never
lost, he for some time declined the duty. His
reply, published the next year, was elegantly
written in Latin, and is said to have been the
first book prepared in that language in this
country. It has an elaborate Introductory Epis
tle, signed "Johannes Cotton, in Ecclesia Bos-
toniensi Presbyter Docens." It is a valuable
exposition of the church-practice of our fathers :
and gave great satisfaction to those at whose
instance it was drawn up. Dr. Hornbeck, a
learned professor of divinity at Leyden, though
17*

198 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
strongly opposed to it, as being a strict Presby
terian himself, warmly commended the work for
the singular acumen joined with ingenuous
candor, which it manifested. In his Church
History of Great Britain, Dr. Fuller, one of the
best divines of the Church of England, re
marks ; — " Of all the authors I have perused
concerning these opinions, none to me was more
informative than Mr. John Norton, one of no
less learning than modesty, in his answer to
Apollonius." While Mr. Norton was deeply engaged in
the preparation of this important work, an inci
dent occurred which illustrates the times and
the men. Some of his critical hearers imagined
that his absorption in that study prevented him
from bestowing that careful preparation upon his
pulpit discourses, to which he had accustomed
them. Upon this, one of them went, not directly
to his pastor, but to Rev. Samuel. Whiting, the
excellent minister of Lynn. This gentleman
took occasion, in a very kind and respectful
manner, to say to Mr. Norton; — " Sir, there are
some of your people, who think that the services
wherein you are engaged for all the churches,
do something take off from the edge of the
ministry wherewith you should serve your own
particular church. I would intreat you, Sir, to

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 199
consider this matter ; for our greatest work is,
to preach the gospel unto that flock whereof we
are overseers." This admonition, precise and
formal as it may seem to us, had the desired
effect. It was as kindly taken, as it was well
meant : so true is the wisdom of Solomon,
which saith ; — " Rebuke a wise man, and he
will love thee."
Some years afterwards, Mr. Norton drafted
a letter in Latin, signed by himself and forty-
three other ministers, and addressed to John
Dury. This Dury was a visionary man, who
spoiled an immense number of reams of paper,
in writing and printing upon the subject of a
general pacification and union of all Protestant
churches. In one of his prefaces, he says ; — " I
think myself bound to declare this, That I am
under a vow to prosecute upon all occasions, as
long as I live, the ways of evangelical reconcili
ation among Protestants." Many were his
votive offerings at the shrine of peace. There
have been many such pleasant schemers, and
there are some such now, who seem to have
taken the hint of their plan of union from
Aaron's rod, which swallowed up all its com
petitors. What a beautiful union it would
make, if all other denominations would only be
Sood natured enough to come over to the be-

200 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
nevolent writer's sect ! Some have even started
new sects for this purpose, which, like so many
cuttings of a polypus, have each become com
plete organizations, and increased, rather than
diminished, the great sectarian swarm. Dury
carried on an immense correspondence to pro
mote his project : and officiated as clergyman in
several denominations successively. He finally
fulfilled his vow oddly enough by dying, so they
say, a Quaker !
The multiplicity and distraction of sects has
long been regarded as a sore evil. Mr. Norton,
in his " Life of Mr. John Cotton," makes the
following striking remarks ; — " The present
vexation of consciences, and of the civil estates,
with uncertainty and manifold heresy in matter
of faith, hath no small tendency to bring back
the Infallible Chair. People will accept of a
quiet harbor, though upon hard conditions,
rather than be afflicted with continual tossings
upon stormy seas. It is natural to man to covet
any quiet land, rather than to dwell with the
terror of a continual earthquake." These words
were prophetic. They indicate the motives
which afterwards made Papists of Dryden and
many others. In our times, many have taken
shelter from the contending winds of faction in
the solemn cave of prelacy : but alas for them !

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 201
they have found it to be the cave of Eolus,
where not the wind-god himself hath power to
bind his rebellious subjects. In running from the
rain, men have stumbled into the ditch. While
human nature remains what it has been ever
since the fall, party spirit will stalk through the
sanctuaries : and like a demon, whom no exor
cist hath power to cast out, will haunt the
cathedral, no less than the chapel.
In the Latin epistle to Dury, which Mr. Nor
ton drew up in 1645, for himself and the other
angels of the churches in Massachusetts, they
utterly disclaim the charge of being moved by a
schismatical temper.* " We must ingenuously
confess," say they, " that then, when all things
were quiet, and no threatening signs of war ap
peared, seeing we could not be permitted by the
bishops at that time prevailing, to perform the
office of the ministry in public, nor yet to enjoy
the ordinances without subscription and conform
ity, as they were wont to speak, nor without the
mixture of human inventions with divine insti
tutions, we chose rather to depart into the re-

* A copy of this document, in the handwriting of Rev. John Wil
son, and bearing the autographs of the subscribing ministers, is in
the possession of the American Antiquarian Society at Worcester.
This proof that those good men were what the puritan Perkins
called Reformed Catholics, is a curious and precious relic.

202 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
mote and unknown coasts of the earth, for the
sake of a purer worship, than to lie down under
the hierarchy in the abundance of all things, but
with the prejudice of conscience. But that in
flying from our country, we should renounce
communion with such churches as profess the
gospel, is a thing which we confidently and sol
emnly deny. Certainly, so far as concerns our
selves, in whatever assemblies among us the
whole company of them that profess the gospel,
the fundamentals of doctrine, and essentials of
order are maintained, although in many niceties
of controversial divinity they are at less agree
ment with us, we do hereby make it manifest,
(which yet we would always have understood,
so as the least part of truth, according to the
nature of that reverence which ought exactly to
be yielded thereunto, may be preserved,) that
we do acknowledge them, all and every one, for
brethren : and that we shall be ready to give
unto them the right hands of fellowship in the
Lord, if in other things they be peaceable, and
walk orderly." This public act and testimony
is sufficient to evince that the principles of our
fathers in the matter of communion were truly
Christian and catholic.
Mr. Norton preached the annual election ser
mon in 1645, before the Great and General

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 203
Court. This ancient custom is still maintained
among us. Very many of the early discourses
preached upon this occasion are extant in printed
form, and furnish a lively picture of the times.
Many of them are noble patterns of ministerial
boldness, fidelity and zeal.
Mr. Norton took a leading part in the cele
brated synod which met at Cambridge in 1646,
and drew up the Platform of Church discipline.
It was at first proposed that this synod should
be summoned by order of the civil authority.
But great objection being made, lest this might
lead to some encroachment on the liberty of the
churches, the General Court refrained from a
positive order, and merely passed a vote recom
mending to the churches to send their pastors
and delegates. Even this modification would
not appease the jealous scruples of some of the
churches ; and that of Boston especially refused
to send a delegation. As it was very important
that a church so influential should not stand
aloof from the undertaking, strenuous efforts
were made to overcome the reluctance of its
members, till a majority of four-sevenths was
obtained in favor of the measure. As that
church had always before this acted unanimous
ly in matters of consequence, there was an un-

204 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
willingness to proceed against the wishes of so
large a minority.
In this emergency Mr. Norton came forward
and united the breach. Coming over from
Cambridge with the whole synod, he preached
the Thursday lecture in the Boston Church
from Exodus 4 : 27, where the history tells how
Aaron met Moses in the mount of God, and
kissed him. He showed, that the ecclesiastical
power should meet the reasonable requirements
of the civil authority ; and the ministry co-oper
ate with the magistracy, when called upon by
the latter, in deliberating for the public peace
and welfare. He explained, that the synod had
no power, except to consult, declare and advise :
and that it claimed no judicial or coercive au
thority. Mr. Norton's suggestions were so well
taken, that the dispute was ended ; and Boston
Church sent her pastor, and teacher, and three
lay delegates to the synod. When the result of
the synod was declared, Mr. Norton used all his
influence to procure its acceptance with the
churches. The Platform having thus received
a full ecclesiastical sanction, was then presented
to the General Court, which gave it what fur
ther sanction the civil government had to be
stow. The Cambridge Platform was highly
approved by many of the most eminent divines

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 205

across the water. Richard Baxter, one of the
holiest and most studious men that ever lived,
but a few months before his death, wrote to Dr.
Increase Mather ; — " I am as zealous a lover of
the New England Churches as any man, ac
cording to Mr. Norton's and the synod's model."
In 1646, the colony stood in need of agents
to attend to its affairs in England : and Gover
nor Winthrop and Mr. Norton were selected for
that business. But the matter was dropped from
the fear, that if they once got to England, it
being the time of the civil wars, these eminent
men would be detained there in public employ
ments, to the great detriment of the colony
which could not spare them. It was an honor
able appointment, showing the great trust re
posed in them: and the recall of it was still
more honorable to them, as showing the fear
that was felt of losing them.
A Mr. Pyncheon had written a dialogue,
which went against the doctrine of the vicarious
sufferings of Christ, and the imputation of his
righteousness for the justification of the believer.
The General Court was zealous for the ortho
doxy they sincerely loved, and fearful that
Christians abroad might be led by Pyncheon's
book to doubt whether their New England
brethren were sound in the faith. The Court
vol. ii. 18

206 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
called upon Mr. Norton, as "a ready scribe,"
on such occasions, to confute the objectionable
book. He accordingly prepared a confutation
of it, in which he discusses Christ's " active and
passive righteousness, and the imputation there
of." This reply was presented to the Court in
December, 1651, when it was read to the offend
er, who appears not to have yielded his objec
tionable opinions. However the work was sent
to England, and printed at the colony's charge.
It contains a dedication to the General Court of
the Massachusetts Colony, which says ; — " You
have been among the first of magistrates which
have approved and practiced the Congregational
way : no small favor from God, nor honor to
yourselves with the generation to come."
Mr. Norton's last work of importance was
published at London, in 1654, under the title of
" The Orthodox Evangelist." It is a compre
hensive system of divinity, written in the taste
of the times, full of careful divisions, removing
objections, abounding in texts of Scripture, and
arraying a host of theological authorities. His
style is that of a man who thinks nothing about
it, in his anxiety to make each link in the chain
of his argument as strong as possible. No time
was spent in filing and polishing. As a soldier
of the cross, he was not decked like a " carpet-

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 207
knight," to make a figure in a pompous proces
sion, or a courtly levee. As his friend, John
Cotton said of him, he arrayed himself not for
the parade ground, but for the battle-field.
" There was a noble negligence in his style ;
for his great mind could not stoop to the affected
eloquence of words."
The doctrines which Mr. Norton chiefly
taught from the pulpit, are systematically
presented in his Orthodox Evangelist. In this
work, he treats of the being and perfections of
the Triune God, with all imaginable nicety and
subtlety of distinction and inference. The divine
and human agency, and the doctrine of decrees,
are discussed with great ability ; and all con
ceivable objections are stated and removed. It
is an abbreviation, though long enough, of the
whole controversy relative to these points. The
reader can hardly fail to be struck with the
reflection, that there has been but little progress
in this " high argument ;" wherein almost every
thing, which can now be said upon either side,
was anticipated so long ago. Mr. Norton
maintains, that the will of God is the cause of
all other causes. " Second causes are the effects
of the First Cause. The will of man is an
instrument disposed, and determined unto its
action, according to the decree of God. The

208 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
rod is not more subordinate unto the hand of
the smiter, nor the staff to the hand of the
mover, nor the axe to the hand of the hewer,
nor the saw to him that shaketh it, Isa. 10 : 5,
15, nor any other passive instrument to the
hand of a free agent ; than the will of man is
unto the decree of God." "Man, even in vio
lating God's command, fulfilleth God's decree."
'; Though sin, as sin, be evil, yet the being of
sin for a better end is good." Though sin be
voluntary, yet God controls and overrules it for
good. " The water whilst it runneth its own
course, serveth the end of the artificer in turn
ing about the mill according to his intent. An
illegitimate child is a creature of God ; but its
illegitimacy is the crime of its parents." Mr.
Norton earnestly contends, that, though God has
decreed the existence of sin, he is not the
author of sin. The idea "that God is the au
thor of sin, is spoken of as "a blasphemy,
which the devil has spit out at the divine provi -
dential purposes." " The liberty of man, though
subordinate to God's decree, freely willeth the
very same thing, and no other, than that which
it would have willed, if (upon a supposition of
that impossibility,) there had been no decree.
Man acts as freely, as if there were no decree ;
yet as infallibly, as if there were no liberty.
Liberty is the effect of the decree, so far is the

LIFF. OF JOHN NORTON. 209
decree from being a prejudice to liberty." Rep
robates freely commit such a measure of sin, as
shall fit them for the intended measure of
wrath : and yet will certainly commit neither
more nor less. " God determineth the will
suitably and agreeably to its own nature ; that
is, freely. He so determineth the will, as that
the will determineth itself. The efficiency of
God offereth no violence, nor changeth the
nature of things ; but governeth them according
to their own natures." " Necessity doth not
prejudice liberty. God is necessarily good, yet
freely good." Man is a free agent, having a
real, though subordinate, efficiency.
In the book we are reviewing, it is taught,
that all mankind partook in Adam's sin, which
is justly imputed to them ; and that original sin
is a hereditary and habitual opposition of the
heart to the divine will ; that God, of his wis
dom and mercy, hath elected whom he would
to eternal life ; that these are converted by the
Spirit of God ; that the whole guilt of their sins
is imputed to Christ, and his perfect obedience
is imputed to them, and is received by faith
alone ; that the faith of the elect is the effect of
irresistible grace ; and that the soul is passive
in the first reception of faith, because faith is
first a faculty, and then an act.
18*

210 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
Such are some of the positions sustained in
the Orthodox Evangelist, with a vast variety of
reasons, and illustrations, and authorities, and
Scriptures. All objections are diligently sought
for and confuted ; and the whole is done with a
marvelous method and brevity. The volume
ends with some striking speculations upon the
state of the blessed after death, and after the
resurrection. It closes in the following strain :
" Add this consideration of the blessedness of
our souls, which immediately follows upon our
dissolution from the body, and admits no delay.
The soul is no sooner out of this earthly, than
it is in its heavenly house. In a moment, in the
twinkling of an eye, before the eyes of the dead
body are closed, the eye of the living soul shall
behold the face of Jesus Christ. Amen. Even
so, come Lord Jesus."
Such was the system of doctrine with which
the puritan preachers fed the souls of their
people. With this " strong meat," they were
raised up to that elevated stature of piety, and
giant strength of character, which their great
work required. The diluted diet of a laxer
theology would have so dwarfed and enfeebled
their minds, as to spoil them for their destiny,
and marred or prevented its fulfillment.
The moral and political influence of Calvin-

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 211

ism is one of the most interesting and instructive
studies among all the lessons of history. It has
ever been remarkable for generating a high
tone of principle, and a spirit of firmness and
independence. Of its disciples in the seven
teenth century, it is said by the most eloquent
of modern essayists ; — " The very meanest of
them was a being to whose fate a mysterious
and terrible importance belonged, — on whose
slightest action the spirits of light and darkness
looked with anxious interest, — who had been
destined, before heaven and earth were created,
to enjoy a felicity which should continue when
heaven and earth should have passed away.
Events which short-sighted politicians ascribed
to earthly causes had been ordained on his
account. For his sake, empires had risen, and
flourished, and decayed. For his sake, the
Almighty had proclaimed his will by the pen of
the evangelist, and the harp of the prophet. He
had been rescued by no common deliverer from
the grasp of no common foe. He had been
ransomed by the sweat of no vulgar agony, by
the blood of no earthly sacrifice. It was for
him, that the sun had been darkened, that the
rocks had been rent, that the dead had arisen,
that all nature had shuddered at the sufferings

212 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.

of her expiring Lord ! "* A character bred and
trained under the influence of the doctrines of
personal election and redemption, must reach to
something of that sublimity which tramples on
earthly crowns and distinctions ; and with still
higher flight, attains to a glorious prostration at
the feet of God.
As a sort of pendent, or parallel to the
splendid effusion of Macaulay, we may present
the sketch of a living American writer. " Every
individual who had experienced the raptures of
devotion, every believer, who, in his moments
of ecstacy, had felt the assurance of the favor of
God, was in his own eyes a consecrated person.
For him the wonderful counsels of the Almighty
had chosen a Saviour; for him the laws of
nature had been suspended and controlled, the
heavens had opened, earth had quaked, the sun
had veiled his face, and Christ had died and
had risen again ; for him prophets and apostles
had revealed to the world the oracles and the
will of God. Viewing himself as an object of
the divine favor, and in this connection dis
claiming all merit, he prostrated himself in the
dust before heaven : looking out upon mankind,
how could he but respect himself, whom God

# Edinburgh Review. No. LXX^IV. 1825.

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 213
had chosen and redeemed. He cherished hope ;
he possessed faith ; as he walked the earth, his
heart was in the skies. Angels hovered round
his path, charged. to minister to his soul; spirits
of darkness leagued together to tempt him from
his allegiance. His burning piety could use no
liturgy ; his penitence could reveal his trans
gressions to no confessor. He knew no superior
in sanctity. He could as little become the slave
of a priestcraft as of a despot."* Such is the
natural tendency of truth. " Election implies
faith, and faith freedom." Says the same able
writer; — " The political character of Calvinism,
which, with one consent and with instinctive
judgment, the monarchs of that day feared as
republicanism, and which Charles II. declared
a religion unfit for a gentleman, is expressed by
a single word — predestination. Did a proud
aristocracy trace its lineage through generations
of a high-born ancestry ? — the republican re
former, with a loftier pride, invaded the invisible
world, and from the book of life brought down
the record of the noblest enfranchisement, de
creed from all eternity by the King of kings.
His few converts defied the opposing world as a
world of reprobates, whom God had despised

# Bancroft. Hist. U. S. I. 461,2.

214 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
and rejected. To them the senses were a
totally depraved foundation, on which neither
truth nor goodness could rest. They went forth
in confidence that men who were kindling with
the same exalted instincts, would listen to their
Voice, and be effectually " called into the brunt
of the battle " by their side. And standing
serenely amidst the crumbling fabrics of centu
ries of superstitions, they had faith in one
another."* We have here the testimony of two eminent
scholars, richly endowed with the historical
spirit, and with the rare gift of discerning the
operation of moral causes. Neither of them can
be charged with being biassed by an undue
patriality to Calvinism. The leaning of their
minds is rather in the opposite direction. It is
not from experience, that they describe the
workings of the ancient orthodoxy upon the
souls of its adherents. But as keen-eyed inves
tigators, they have looked upon the results it
wrought out : and they have traced its noble
and lasting consequences in their lofty strains of
eulogy. We see in what mould of doctrine
those minds were cast, whose iron strength
subdued kingdoms and wildernesses, triumphed

* Bancroft. II. 462,3.

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 215
over native infirmity, shattered the chains of
darkness in every link, and proclaimed the
jubilee of freedom to the children of God. The
Pauline theology bred that courageous reckless
ness which broke in pieces the enslaving images
of civil and ecclesiastical oppression, before
which servility had crouched, and superstition
had groveled, for ages. No matter for the costly
carvings of the seats of irresponsible and abso
lute power: no matter how gorgeous the
stainings which glazed the oriel windows of the
fanes, where priestly usurpation dwelt amid
congenial gloom. All, all must be courageously
demolished, as monuments and supports of
tyranny and corruption. The Puritans were the
men for this work. The tenets of their faith
cast them upon the Lord in almost superhuman
confidence : and " through God, they did val
iantly." To the labors of Mr. Norton and his brethren
in the inculcation of religious truth, New Eng
land is indebted for nearly all that constitutes
her happiness and renown. Her character of
dauntless independence, public spirit, resolute
enterprise, and invincible perseverance, was
cherished by the orthodoxy which fed and exer
cised her infancy and youth. This was the
nursing-mother of her greatness, "severely

216 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
kind," careful of her childhood, and prodigal to
her maturity. Each family of the early colonists
has multiplied, on the average, to more than a
thousand souls. Their descendants are now
numbered by millions ; and, true to the coloniz
ing spirit, have spread the puritan influence
over the newer states, and the most distant set
tlements, of our land. Bible orthodoxy was the
fountain-head of those extending influences, so
salutary to our nation and the world.

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 217

CHAPTER II.
Mr. Cotton on his death-bed recommends that Mr. Norton Bhould be
his successor. Mr. Norton invited to Boston. Removes. Reclaimed
by Ipswich. Contentions and Councils. Interference of Govern
ment. Mr. Norton installed in Boston. His influence. His second
marriage. "Heart of New England. Rent." Quakers. Alledged
persecutions. Bancroft's vindication of theFathers. Mr. Norton's
views. His commission to England with Governor Bradstreet.
Letters of General Court to Boston Church and neighboring min
isters. Audience at Whitehall. Commissioners return. Discon
tents. Mr. Norton's Death. His last discourses printed. Norton's
Memorial. Anagrams. Elegy. Last will and testament. Rela
tives. Mrs. Norton's benefactions to Old South Church. Her ex
travagant funeral expenses- Mr. Norton's natural disposition. His
hilarity. Ann Hibbens hung for witchery. Beach's Letter. Mr.
Norton's opposition to the execution. Witchcraft delusion univer
sal. Sweden. England. Scotland. France. Last executions for
witchcraft. Massachusetts the first jurisdiction to" abolish the
practice. False impressions of Puritan character. Puritan women.
Mr. Norton's scholarship. His Diary. I. Mather. Mr. Norton's
extraordinary gift in prayer. Conclusion.
When Mr. Cotton lay upon his death-bed, his
church requested him to recommend a fit person
to be his successor. The sick man, while re
volving in his mind what advice to give, dreamed
that he saw Mr. Norton riding into Boston on a
white horse to succeed him. The dream, as it
happened, afterwards came to pass in every cir
vol. n. 19

218 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
cumstance. The dying patriarch, finding his
waking thoughts could not better his dreaming
cogitations, nominated the teacher of Ipswich, if
he could be obtained, to take the place which
was about to be vacated. Mr. Cotton, however,
was not directed in his advice by his night-vis
ion ; but by his knowledge of the fact, that Mr.
Norton had gained the consent of his people to
his leaving them, and returning to England
within twelve months, unless some contingency
should prevent.
When Mr. Cotton had departed to his rest, his
church acted upon his advice, and sent brethren
to Ipswich to obtain the consent of that people to
part with him who had been their guide for fif
teen years. There the matter was long debated,
till an honest member of the Ipswich Church
remarked; — " Brethren, a case in some things
like to this, was once that way determined, —
' We will call the damsel, and inquire at her
mouth : ' wherefore I propose that our teacher
himself be inquired of, whether he be inclined to
go." Mr. Norton, who had resolved to have no
responsibility in the business, was much troubled
at the question. He answered, that if it were
judged that as good reasons as caused his removal
to America, now called for his removal to Boston,

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 219
he should resign himself, but could not take an
active part in the business. It was at last agreed
to postpone a final decision, and that meanwhile
he should reside in Boston, and wait for plainer
intimations of the pleasure of Providence. The
General Court, May eighteenth, 1653, ordered a
letter of thanks to the Ipswich Church for their
self-denial in this particular.
When he had been about two years in Boston,
the excellent Nathaniel Rogers, who was pastor
at Ipswich, died in gospel peace. That church
now loudly reclaimed their teacher : and there
is a tradition that he was almost persuaded to
return. But the Boston flock refused to give up
the precious deposit, to which they had become
exceedingly attached. A large council was con
vened, which advised the Ipswich church to grant
Mr. Norton a fair dismission, so that in Boston
he might serve all New England. Several
lesser councils labored to get this advice carried
into effect, but they labored in vain. Mrr Nor
ton, wearied with the contentions of the two
churches about his dismission, was on the point
of dismissing them both, by carrying out his
former purpose of returning to England.
This was during the protectorate of Cromwell,
when the tide of emigration which had been
forced this way by hierarchal persecution, was

220 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
ebbing back again to the beloved mother country.
They, who were for remaining, were sorely dis
tressed to find themselves so much weakened by
these numerous departures. And when it was
found that a man so considerable as Mr. Norton
was about to abandon them, it was thought to
be high time to awake. The governor and
other magistrates summoned a council of twelve
churches whose expenses were paid by the colo
ny, to prevent, if possible, so sad a discourage
ment. Under this potent influence the dispute
came to an end. Mr. Wilson, the pastor of
Boston, obtained the colleague he desired : and
the Boston church joyfully installed their teacher
on the twenty-third of July, 1656, after the lapse
of four years. They had previously given him
two hundred pounds towards the purchase of a
house. It appears that he purchased Governor
Winthrop's estate, called " The Green," at the
corner of Milk and Washington streets ; and
which was afterwards given by Mr. Norton's
widow to the Old South church, to whom it still
belongs. The Ipswich people soon consoled
themselves " by doing as they had been done
by." They called from Lynn, Rev. Thomas
Cobbet, a minister of the highest repute.
Mr. Norton's settlement in Boston was re
garded as a very auspicious event. Ministers

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 221
fifty years of age, were not then considered as
old and superannuated. His former parishion
ers would often come all the way from Ipswich,
to hear him preach at the Thursday lecture.
He exerted a wide influence through the country,
and visited the remotest settlements to assist in
settling ecclesiastical difficulties. The rulers
also profited by his wisdom and prudence : for
he counseled the councilors. It was mainly
owing to his discreet interposition, that actual
hostility was prevented from breaking out between
our people, and the Dutch who were settled at
Manhadoes. It is not known when his first wife deceased.
He married Mary Mason of Boston, on the same
day in which he was installed in that place. It
does not appear that he ever had any children.
At any rate, there were none who survived him.
He published a treatise in 1660, under the
title ; — " The Heart of New England rent at the
Blasphemies of the Present Generation." This
pamphlet he prepared at the request of the Leg
islature. It is a piteous invective against the
Quakers, containing an athletic exposure of their
practices, and confutation of their principles.
According to his account of them, those old Fox-
ian Quakers were as different from the worthy
people who now bear that name, as a wolf is from
19*

222 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
a sheep. " For the security of the flock," he
says, speaking of the law for the imprisonment
and banishment of the Quakers, " we pen up the
wolf; but a door is purposely left open whereby
he may depart at his pleasure." On this point,
it is justly remarked by Bancroft; — "Prohibiting
the arrival of Quakers was not persecution ; and
banishment is a term hardly to be used of one
who has not acquired a home. When a pauper
is sent to his native town, he is not called an
exile."* Our forefathers had an instinctive dread
of confusion ; and guarded against its approach
with a jealousy, which, but for its occasional ex
tremes, must have received the commendation of
all men of sense. " Religion," said Mr. Norton,
" admits of no eccentric motions !" To them, the
movements of the Quakers, those " wandering
stars " which shot so madly from their spheres,
seemed eccentric and portentous to the last
degree. They shuddered at the flight of those
baleful meteors.
The accomplished historian already quoted,
himself an enthusiastic champion of the utmost
freedom of inquiry and action, has so candidly
stated the case, that it would be wrong to omit
his statement in this connection. " It was in

* History 1, 454,5,

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 223
self-defence that Puritanism in America began
those transient persecutions of which the excesses
shall find in me no apologist ; and which yet
were no more than a train of mists, hovering, of
an Autumn morning, over the channel of a
fine river, that diffused freshness and fertility
wherever it wound. The people did not attempt
to convert others, but to protect themselves ; they
never punished opinion as such; they never
attempted to torture or terrify men into ortho
doxy. The history of religious persecution in
New England, is simply this ; — The Puritans
established a government in America such as
the laws of natural justice warranted, and such
as the statutes and common law of England did
not warrant ; and that was done by men who
still acknowledged the duty of a limited allegi
ance to the parent State. The Episcopalians had
declared themselves the enemies of the party,
and waged against it a war of extermination ;
Puritanism excluded them from its asylum.
Roger Williams, the apostle of soul-liberty,
weakened the cause of civil independence by
impairing its unity ; and he was expelled, even
though Massachusetts always bore good testimony
to his spotless virtues. Wheelwright and his
friends, in their zeal for strict Calvinism, forgot
their duty as citizens, and they also were exiled.

224 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
The Anabaptist, who could not be relied upon as
an ally, was guarded as a foe. The Quakers
denounced the worship of New England as an
abomination, and its government as treason ; and
therefore they were excluded on pain of death.
The fanatic for Calvinism was a fanatic for lib
erty : and he defended his creed ; for, in the
moral warfare for freedom, his creed was a part
of his army, and his most faithful ally in the
battle."* In the " Heart of New England Rent," Mr.
Norton contends, that originally this country
" was a religious plantation, not a plantation for
trade. The profession of the purity of doctrine,
worship and discipline, was written on her fore
head." Hence he cries out bitterly against the
cruel aggressions of such as came on purpose to
break up the declared object of this costly enter
prise. He strongly asserts, that neither Qua
kers, nor other heretics, ought to be punished
for their consciences. He even maintains, that
it is impossible to dp so, because there is no
means of ascertaining judicially what a man's
conscience is. The law, he declares, takes hold
only of their outward acts ; and that only when
they are subversive of the public peace and

* History I, 463,4.

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 225
established order of the land. It is on this
ground, that he vindicates the penalties inflicted
upon the Quakers ; and warmly insists that they
were not punished for their consciences ; but for
their factious, seditious and turbulent proceed
ings. Had the Worcester Asylum been then in
existence, most of the convicted Quakers would,
no doubt, have been sent there for appropriate
treatment. Such matters, like many other points
of medical jurisprudence, were not then under
stood as well as now. The world was then, and
always had been, in midnight darkness on the
subject of religious toleration. In New England
they had the morning twilight just dawning, in
which they were looking anxiously about ; but
saw not all things distinctly. It was one hun
dred and fifty years later, ere the daylight
shone so strong upon the piercing eye of Napo
leon, that the imperious autocrat saw his way
clear to say ; — " My dominion ends, where that
of conscience begins." His present majesty, the
king of the French, seems to be mystified in a
thick send unwholesome fog which invests the
subject there. In Great Britain and Ireland,
entire religious freedom and equality has never
been granted even to this very day, except during
the brief protectorate of Cromwell. Nor have
these just principles any where obtained full

226 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
acknowledgment, except in this land, where the
Puritans introduced them, and prepared the way
for their perfect triumph.
Before closing his active and useful career,
Mr. Norton performed one more general service
for these colonies. At the restoration of Charles
II. in 1660, it was thought necessary to send
deputies to address him in behalf of New Eng
land. This was a difficult and delicate mission.
The people felt, that they had little to hope
from a prince of Charles' temper. They were
apprehensive, that he would despotically snatch
away their charter, and wrest out of their grasp
all the liberties they had found and cherished
in this wilderness. They were solicitous in the
extreme to obtain, if it might be, some satisfac
tory assurance upon a matter of such vital inter
est. Mr. Norton was commissioned to go upon
this errand with Governor Simon Bradstreet,
who was called the " venerable Mordecai of his
country." In this case, the honored commission
ers seem to have " had greatness thrust upon
them." They evidently shrank from the ap
pointment, and many tedious preliminaries had
to be adjusted. No one could foresee in what
temper the restored monarch would receive
them. It was feared, that the envoys of a

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 227
people so thoroughly puritanical would find but
little favor in his eyes ; and that not improbably,
fines and imprisonment might be the reward of
their temerity in appearing before him. The
colonial government pledged itself, as far as it
could, to support them to the utmost of its power.
They were furnished with letters to various
noblemen of influence at court, calculated to
secure their good offices with the king, or to
deprecate any hostile sentiments. Among
others, there were letters to lord viscount Say
and Seal, and to the earls of Clarendon and
Manchester. In the instructions given to the
commissioners, the General Court manifested
its usual and commendable jealousy of any en
croachment upon the chartered rights of the
colony. It was said even to these trusty messen
gers ; — " You shall endeavor the establishment
of the rights and privileges we now enjoy." —
" You shall not engage us by any act of yours
to any thing which may be prejudicial to our
present standing, according to patent." — " You
shall give us a speedy and constant account of
all your transactions, and what else may be of
concernment to us." *

* Many documents relating to this mission are printed in Hutch
inson's Collection, pp. 315, — 380.

228 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
There is preserved among the Massachusetts
Records a letter from both branches of the
General Court, " to the more ancient church of
Christ at Boston." The letter says; — "This
Court having, with serious advice from the
reverend elders, and no small deliberation, at
length concluded, for the preservation of the
order of the gospel in all the churches of Christ
here established, to send for England the rev
erend, beloved and much desired Mr. John
Norton from amongst you ; wherein we are
sufferers with yourselves in parting with so
worthy an instrument of spiritual good, (al
though, we hope, but for a time,) and cannot
but expect, that the same arguments which have
guided this Court may also work a readiness in
yourselves to concur with us herein, because,
namely, the Lord hath need of him." The
church is also informed, that the Court has
taken order with the reverend elders in the
Colony to assist the church, during the absence
of its Teacher. This letter is dated the eleventh
of May, 1661. There is another letter of the
same date, addressed by the General Court to
the ministers by whose " reverend advice and
counsel " the Court had acted ; and requesting
them to assist in supplying the wants of " the

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 229
more ancient church of Christ in Boston where
of Mr. Wilson is pastor ; " and which is, " for
the present, left destitute of so able an ' help '
as is the reverend, pious, prudent and laborious
minister of Christ Jesus, Mr. John Norton."
So fraternal, in those days, were the relations
of " Moses and Aaron ! "
The envoys sailed on the eleventh of Febru^
ary, 1662 ; having been long delayed by Mr.
Norton's sickness. His place in the pulpit was
supplied during his absence by the neighboring
ministers in rotation. On arriving at Whitehall,
they had an audience of the king. They pre
sented an address which plainly and frankly
asserted the motives which led to the settle
ment of this country. It declared that the
colony was undertaken by men who wished to
escape the yoke of hierarchal impositions ; and
sought " liberty to walk in the faith of the gos
pel, with all good conscience, according to the
order of the gospel." This document says ; —
" We are not seditious as to the interests of
Csesar, nor schismatical as to the matters of
religion. We distinguish between churches
and their impurities." It expresses an earnest
desire to " enjoy divine worship, free from hu
man mixtures, without offence to God, or man,
vol. n. 20

230 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
or their own consciences." For this,, with
leave, but not without tears, they departed from
their country, kindred and homes, and fled to
this Patmos. The reception of the commission
ers was more favorable than they had anticipated.
Charles treated them with courtesy, for he was
always polite : and made them fine promises,
such as he always broke, like the other Stuarts,
when convenience required. He agreed to con
firm the charter ; and granted an amnesty for
all political offences committed during the late .
disturbances ; but required certain large altera
tions in the colonial legislation and religious
practices under the charter. -
The commissioners having most faithfully
performed their duty, and brought every influ
ence possible to bear in favor of the Colony,
returned in September of the same year. They
had gone, very reluctantly, on a mission which
they felt to be impracticable ; for they were
expected to conciliate the unfriendly monarch,
and yet secure the independence of their coun
try. Their English friends thought that they
had succeeded wonderfully in both respects.
But the people here, ever jealous of the liber
ties which had cost them so dear, were always ,
discontented with their agents at their first re-

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 231
turn from England. In this case, many were
much dissatisfied with the faithful Norton and
Bradstreet for not having somehow exacted from
a tyrant, surrounded as he was by their bitterest
enemies, an unconditional pledge that every
thing should remain unaltered. Some began
to cry out, that the agents had " laid the founda
tion of ruin to all our liberties." Mr. Brad-
street, in his incorruptible patriotism, outlived
for many years these unreasonable clamors.
But they embittered the short residue of Mr.
Norton's days. It has been supposed, that the
troubles of his too sensitive mind on this ac
count, hastened his death. But there is good
reason to think, that the dissatisfaction felt at
the result of his mission was neither general
nor deep enough to have such an effect. Emer
son mentions a tradition " that even the venera
ble and benevolent Wilson was heard to say
that he must have another colleague." But this
would seem to be sufficiently confuted by the
manner in which that patriarch, when on his
death-bed, three or four years after, spoke of
Mr. Norton ; as well as by his manner of men
tioning Mrs. Norton in his will.
The truth is, that Mr. Norton's constitution,
worn out by a life of study, had been breaking up

232 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
for some time before. He died about six months
subsequent to his return from England, at the
age of fifty-seven. He passed the gates of death
so easily and so quickly, as scarce to feel the
transit. It was on the fifth of April, 1663.
In the forenoon he was well, and expecting to
preach in the afternoon ; but was taken with an
apoplectic fit, and shortly after expired.
His death filled Boston with such lamenta
tions, as caused that mournful night long to be
remembered ; and his funeral, which took place
at the Thursday lecture, was attended with
great sorrow and solemnity. His dear friend,
Rev. Richard Mather, " wept over him a sermon
most agreeable to the occasion."
His old friends the Quakers did not fail to
represent the sudden death of " the chief priest
of Boston," as a judgment of God upon him for
the treatise he had published against their delu
sions. His parishioners, on the contrary, thought
that, in this case, it was " sudden death, sudden
glory ! " The short-hand writers sent to the
press their notes of his last sermons, three in
number. One of them was the election sermon,
which he had recently preached, having been
repeatedly called to the discharge of that duty.
The text is Jeremiah 10 : 17, and the title is

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 233
" Sion, the Outcast, healed of her Wounds." It
contains many excellent and seasonable instruc
tions ; and also the anti-schismatical assertion
which was usually made in some form on those
august occasions, that " in matters of religion,
we are for reformation, and not for separation."
The second of these sermons is the last of his
Sabbath performances ; it is entitled ; — " The
Believer's Consolation," and is a devout medi
tation on the heavenly mansions. The third of
these sermons is the last of his Thursday
lectures ; it is entitled ; — " The Evangelical
Worshipper," and goes to prove, that, in divine
worship, every thing must correspond with the
prescriptions of God's Word. The text is very
happily selected from Hebrews 8 : 5 ; " See
that thou make all things according to the pat
tern showed to thee in the mount." These
three discourses, thus published together, were
the death-song of the expiring swan. His affec
tionate people regarded them, in their beautiful
phrase, as the falling mantle of the ascending
prophet. Secretary Morton, in an obituary notice con
tained in his " New England's Memorial,"
makes honorable mention of him whose depart
ure was thus lamented. " Although the church
of Boston in a more special manner felt the
20*

234 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
smart of this sudden blow, yet it reflected upon
the whole land. He was singularly endowed
with" the tongue of the learned, enabled to speak
a word in due season, not only to the wearied
soul, but also a word of counsel to a people in
necessity thereof, being not only a wise stew
ard of the things of Jesus Christ, but also a wise
statesman ; so that the whole land sustained a
great loss of him." All the customary tokens of
respect were paid to his memory. The letters
of his name Iohn Norton, were fondly
transposed, till they stood Into Honnor ; where=
unto he had gone to abide. Not content with this,
his anagrammatizing friend, Mr. Wilson, first
turned the name into Latin form, Iohannes
Nortontts; and then turned the helpless
.letters over and over, till, with clever success,
he brought them into satisfactory shape, as
Nonne Is Honoratjus ! Nor were there want
ing some of those uncouth and rugged elegiacs
which would have made Quinctilian " gasp and
stare ; " and doubtless forced the agonized
Muses to muffle their unfortunate ears. Rev.
Thomas Shepard, of blessed memory, vented
his sorrows in some metres, which abounded in
sincerity in inverse proportion to their want of
the spirit of poesy. We give a few of the least
unendurable of his rhymes, those dried salt-fish

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 235
from Helicon. Having compared Mr. Norton
with the most famous of the scholastic doctors,
very much to their disadvantage, he says of his
hero ; — " Of a more heavenly strain his notions were,
More pure, sublime, scholastical and clear,
More like the apostles Paul and John, I wist,
Was this our Orthodox Evangelist.
Among other commendations, he speaks of
him as a father to all the churches ;
" Zealous for order; very critical
For what was truly Congregational."
The good man's reputation must have been
formed of lasting material to survive such ex
cruciating praises.
By his last will and testament it appears, that
Mr. Norton left a brother William, living at
Ipswich, Mass., where he cultivated a large
farm ; and that he had an aged mother, a broth
er Thomas, and three sisters, Martha, Mary and
Elizabeth, residing at London. To the poor of
his church he left a bequest of ten pounds. His
widow, who was his second wife, as has been
stated, gave to the Old South church in Bos
ton, during her life-time, most of the valuable
estate now held by that society ; and nearly all

236 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
the residue, she gave, by her will, after her
decease. There is in the Probate Office an ac
count of her funeral expenses, which is so singu
lar, and so illustrates the customs of those days,
that it is inserted here, at. the risk of shocking
the modern ideas of temperance and economy.
167 7-8, Jan. 20. Account of Funeral Charges
of Mrs. Mary Norton.
Jan. 20. 51 1-2 gallons of best
Malaga with cask and
carriage, at £10. 13. .£10. 13.
50 1-2 ells of best broad
Lutestring silk at 10
s. ell, 25. 5.
" 25. Paid money to Wm. and
Joseph Gridley for
opening the tomb, 1. 16.
" 28. Money Solomon Rans-
ford for coffin and
plate,
" " Gloves 6 doz. pair.
" " do. 2 do. do,
Feb. 5. do. 10 do. and 3 pair,
" 16. do. 12 do. 6 do.
", " do. 2 do. 10 do.
73. 0. 5.

1.

18.

5.

12.

6.

2.

10.

19.

9,

12.

8.

2.
8.
2,
LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 237
This enormous bill of seventy-three pounds
currency, amounting to nearly two hundred and
fifty dollars, contains but two necessary items,
not much exceeding twelve dollars. The offer
ing of gloves and refreshments to the mourning
attendants was the usual practice. If each
receiver of a pair of gloves had his share of the
other articles provided for distribution, he would
have had a strip of silk some five inches wide
as a badge of his grief, and about a pint of Mal
aga for his consolation ! The disposition to
testify respect for the dead by extravagant and
stately funerals is much abated among us ; and
it must be owned, that, in this one instance, the
children, if less loving, are more wise than
their fathers.
In his natural temper, Mr. Norton was quick
and somewhat irascible. Whitefield used to
tell of " grace grafted on a crab-stock." And
truly those trees which naturally yield the
sourest and harshest fruit ; when their crabbed
branches are pruned away, and they are grafted
with fairer" scions, their fruit will often be the
most abundant and the sweetest. Such was the
effect of the engrafted grace of God in Mr.
Norton's soul. He was noted for his affable
and winning behavior, and became one of the
most amiable of men.

238 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
Another natural infirmity of this good man
was a strong inclination to levity. Some of his
humorous table-talk is on record; enough to
indicate the hilarity of his temper. A single
instance of this may suffice. Ann Hibbens, an
unhappy woman, whose husband had been a
magistrate, and a Boston merchant of note, and
who was sister to Governor Bellingham, was
arraigned for witchcraft in 1656. ' She appears
to have heen a sad termagant. Her temper,
naturally bad, was further soured by her hus
band's losses in business ; and after his death,
she became so violent, as to make herself ex
tremely odious to her neighbors. She was ex
communicated from the church for her strange
malevolent behavior; which at last provoked
against her the fatal charge under which Joan of
Arc was doomed to die. The truth qf the ac
cusation was as much disputed in the case of
Ann Hibbens as in that of the "Maid of Or
leans." The jury brought her in guilty ; the
magistrates set aside the verdict ; but the Depu
ties in the General Court confirmed it, and she
was executed accordingly. She was the second
person who died under this charge in Massa
chusetts. Mr. Beach, a minister in Jamaica, in
a letter to Dr. Increase Mather, gives the foi-

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 239
lowing relation ; — " You may remember what
I have sometimes told you your famous Mr.
Norton once said at his own table, before Mr.
Wilson the pastor, elder Penn, and myself and
wife, and others, who had the honor to be his
guests : — That one of your magistrates' wives,
as I remember, was hanged for a witch only for
having more wit than her neighbors. It was
his very expression ; she having, as he explain
ed it, unhappily guessed that two of her perse
cutors, whom she saw talking in the street,
were talking of her. Which proving true, cost
her her life, notwithstanding all he could do to
the contrary, as he himself told us."
It must be owned, that Mr. Norton's taunting
expression, on this festive occasion in the pres
ence of his colleagues, the pastor and the ruling
elder, and other guests of consideration, had in
it more of wit than of fun. It is likely that he
had the laugh mostly to himself. But it is
honorable to his independence and soundness of
judgment, that he withstood the popular preju
dices on this exciting point. One of our histori
ans has said ; — " Witchcraft had not been made
the subject of skeptical consideration; and in
the years in which Scotland sacrificed heca
tombs to the delusion, there were three victims

240 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
in New England. Dark crimes, that seemed
without a motive, may have been pursued under
that name ; I find one record of a trial for witch
craft, where the prisoner was proved a murder
ess."* During the last few years of the seventeenth
century, there was an epidemic on the minds of
the Massachusetts colonists, during which nine
teen persons were executed for witchcraft, and
one was pressed to death for refusing to plead
to the indictment. We cannot sufficiently de
plore this delusion by which our forefathers
were hurried to such shedding of innocent
blood. But it is astonishing to observe how
much reproach has been heaped upon them, as
if, in this particular fault, they were sinners
above all who dwelt on the earth in their day.
These reproaches can only come from persons
of very limited information on this subject. Any
one who wishes to see the literature of the sub
ject, may find the most of it collected by Sir
Walter Scott, in his work on Demonology.
Such .local delusions were very common in that
age. During the seventeenth century, many
thousands were put to death in England for

* Bancroft. Hist. I. 465.

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 241

alledged witchcraft. " In Scotland, during the
last forty years of the sixteenth century, the ex
ecutions were not fewer than seventeen thou
sand ! " * About the time of what is called the
" Salem Witchcraft," there was another very
similar, but more destructive excitement in
Sweden. During that century, reputed witches
perished by thousands in France, and the same
took place in the other European States,- both
Protestant and Romanist. Perhaps in no civil
ized country were there so few victims as in
New England, where there were no executions
later than 1692; and in some of whose colonies
there were never any sufferers of the sort. The
English statute against witchcraft, enacted un
der James I., in 1603, when the great philoso
pher, lord Bacon, was a member of the house of
commons, was not repealed by act of Parliament
till 1736, not much above a century since. The
last judicial execution in England was at Hun
tingdon, in 1716; the last in Scotland was at
Dornoch, Sutherlandshire, in 1622 ; some of
the last that ever took place in a civilized coun
try were at Wurtzburg, Bavaria, in 1749, and
in the Swiss canton of Glarus, in 1780, much,

* Edinburgh Review, CLXI. p. 128. See also Encyclopedia Ameri
cana, article " Witchcraft."
VOL. II. 21

242 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
less than a hundred years ago. All these, and
many others, occurred long after such sorrowful
scenes had wholly ceased in New England.
Strange as it may seem to some who have
listened all their days to calumnies on this sub
ject, it is nevertheless true, that Massachusetts
was the first civilized government to abolish
THE PRACTICE OF EXECUTION FOR WITCHCRAFT.
In this, as in so many other respects, that noble
commonwealth has led the way, and strode
foremost in the path of reform !
It has been observed that Mr. Norton could
unbend his bow of steel ; and relax the tension
of his laborious mind amid the cheerfulness of
social intercourse. This has been the more
willingly mentioned, because some who have
considered his deportment only when under ex
treme perplexity and trouble have termed him
" the melancholic Norton." This notion is too
commonly extended to all the Puritans. It is
true, that, as compared with a vain and frivolous
world, they were serious and sedate. If deep
religious meditation and experience had not
made them sober and grave in their ordinary
deportment, they had enough to make them so
in the pains, perils and privations with which
they were ever conversant. But it is a great

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 243
mistake, to suppose that they never had their
seasons of relaxation. They had high social
enjoyments, and knew how to indulge a becom
ing cheerfulness. It is a mere prejudice to con
ceive of them only according to those caricatures
of "the godly," which the profane cavaliers
were fond of drawing. Their enemies loved to
depict them as gloomy and unsocial beings,
mortally opposed to the courtesies, refinements
and endearments of life. We have too long
been told of their grim visages and sour aspect ;
as if " hanging out a devil in their faces, were
a sign that an angel dwelt within." Far differ
ent was the truth ! They were men of the
most generous sympathies, and {he most en
larged public spirit. And their women were
patterns unsurpassed of conjugal tenderness and
maternal love. How honorable it is to the fe
male character in that day, " that their sensi
bility was not greater than their fortitude."
They could act, as well as pray; they could
endure, as well as weep. If their affections
were tremulous, they were also muscular. How
sweet and precious is their memory, embalmed
in the spices of piety and goodness !
After what has been said of Mr. Norton, it is
needless to dilate upon his learning. He was

244 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
not only a ' skillful linguist, but a universal
scholar. But all that he gained from secular
literature he consecrated, by applying it to the
adornment and illustration of the doctrine of the
cross. It was with the spoils of the Egyptians,
that Moses enriched the tabernacle of the Lord.
President Stiles, no incompetent judge of such
things, ranks Mr. Norton in the first quaternion
of the ancient divines of New England, who
were " equal to the first characters in theology,
in all Christendom, and in all ages."
Of the character of his daily religious experi
ence we are not so fully informed, as we are in
regard to many of his coevals. That was " an
age of diaries ; " and he, like others, kept one of
those diurnal transcripts of the frames of his
mind. It is not known to be in existence. Dr.
Increase Mather, who was for several years his
pupil, and who greatly loved and honored him,
had seen it, and gives this testimony to his ven
erated teacher. " He was much in prayer ; he
would very often spend whole days in prayer,
with fasting before the Lord alone in his study.
He kept a strict daily watch over his own heart.
He was an hard student. He took notice in a
private dairy, how he spent his time every day.
If he found himself not so much inclined to dili-

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 245
gence and study as at some other times, he
would reflect on his heart and ways, lest haply
some unobserved sin should provoke the Lord to
give him up to a slothful, listless frame of spirit.
In his diary, he would sometimes have these
words ; — " Leve desiderium ad studendum : for-
san ex peccato admisso." *
As a part of the fruit of his labors, he left
some writings which he designed for the press
if his life had been prolonged. The principal
work is a large " Body of Divinity " preserved
among the manuscripts of the Massachusetts
Historical Society.
As a preacher, he was remarkable for that
" copious eloquence, which is equally captivat
ing to the scholar and to the unlettered Christ
ian." But he is even more celebrated for his
extraordinary gift in prayer. His whole soul
was let loose in the public devotions, and swept
along in a torrent of emotion, His hearers
were carried away by these overflowings of the
fullness of his heart. The aged magistrates and
the men of cultivated mind, would unite in his
supplications above an hour together, with un*
flagging interest ; transported, in a manner, by

* " Slight inclination to study : owing perhaps to allowed sin,"
21*

246 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.
the vast variety, the fitness, and the fervency of
his petitions. One godly man would ordinarily
travel on foot from Ipswich to Boston, which
was then a journey of thirty miles, merely to
attend the Thursday lecture in the First church.
And if any notice was taken of his singular
perseverance, he would say ; — " It is worth a
great journey, to be a partaker in one of Mr.
Norton's prayers." Nor did this man of prayer
plead with God in vain. His ministry was
greatly blessed: and the multitudes converted
to God by means of his labors, are the jewels of
his crown. Long has he slept in silence with
his flock. Their mingled dust reposes together
in their earthy bed. What an awakening awaits
them ! How joyously that clustered band shall
assemble around their pastor in the destined
morning when their slumbers shall be broken by
the welcome voice of the Son of Man !
But their departed spirits are now with
Christ. Ere we were born, our pilgrim sires,
who found, and cleared for us the good old
paths, which for ages had been forsaken, and
overgrown, and obstructed ; — our fathers, whose
hallowed memory must be our shame and con
demnation if we forsake those paths again ; —
our fathers, sainted and made perfect, have long

LIFE OF JOHN NORTON. 247
been blest with Jesus. They have sung the
victor's song. They have been harping with
their harps of gold. They have mingled in the
raptured chorus of angelic praise. They have
lost themselves in the ecstasy of those mighty
thunderings rolling evermore their tuneful peals-
The anthem is like " the voice of many waters :"
and the undulations of that ever-rising tide shall
forever swell and break, like the booming bil
lows of the resounding sea.

The following is a list of John Norton's printed works:
1. A Latin letter to John Dury on the pacification of the Protestant
Churches, signed by nearly all the New England ministers.
2. Responsio ad totum Quaestionum Syllogen a clarissimo viro
dom. Gul. Apollonio propositam, ad componendas controversias in
Anglia. Lond. 8vo. 1648.
3. A Discussion of the sufferings of Christ, and the questions
about his righteousness active and passive, and the imputation
thereof, in answer to a dialogue of Mr. Pinchin. Lond. 12mo. 1653 :—
written at the request of the General Court.
4. The Orthodox Evangelist, or a treatise wherein many great
evangelical truths are briefly discussed. Lond. 4to. 1654.
5. Election Sermon. 1657.
6. The Life of Mr. Cotton. 1658. A very small quarto.
7. The Heart of New England Rent by the Blasphemies of the

248 LIFE OF JOHN NORTON.

present Generation : a treatise concerning the doctrine of the Quakers,
by the desire of the General Court. 8vo. 1660.
8. Election Sermon. 1661.
0. A Catechism. Date unknown.
10. Three choice and profitable sermons on several texts, being the
last sermons, which he preached at the election, at the Thursday
lecture, and on the Sabbath. Small quarto. 1664.

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPOBT.

It is to meet the wants of the human mind , that
the Old and New Testaments are so much
occupied with narrative and chronicle. No later
history is so instructive as that of the Church
and its chief members. Ecclesiastical history,
including religious biography, is theology taught
by example, and is the most impressive and
profitable teaching. " It is velvet study, and
recreation work."
The early history of New England and its
settlers is a choice part of this fruitful field. It
was to " raise up the foundations of many gen
erations," that they came to these " old waste
places," which from time immemorial had lain
desolate and almost untrodden. Scarce could
these wilds be said to be peopled by the thin and
scattered bands which roamed them at random.
Of the savage inhabitants it was said, that they
were never away from home : for one spot was
as much home to them as another, even where
the wigwam chanced for the time to be pitched.
Here, in this vast, vacant domicil, the Puri-

252 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
tans toiled at their foundation work. Their great
right-angled corner-stone, massive and moveless,
was the Bible. On this firm basis they reared
amain their spiritual masonry. They were for
strong abutment work to begin with. It was to
last for many generations. And so, amid the
old waste places, they builded up their social
fabric of imperishable minds, cemented with im-
perishable truth. And the stately structure rose
in fair proportions, reared
" With pyramids and towers,
From diamond quarries hewn and rocks of gold. "
Among these " wise master-builders," John
Davenport was one of chief renown. We now
propose to give some account of him, as one of
the founders of our political and religious insti
tutions. His reputation does not rest upon feats
of arms or military prowess. But, as '" a good
soldier of Jesus Christ," he endured much
hardness, waged many a hard-fought contest,
and won many a righteous conquest. For, as
"Milton has grandly said,
" Peace hath her victories,
No less than war."
Mr. Davenport was born at Coventry, in Eng
land, in the year 1597. He was the child of
worthy and respectable parents. His father,

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 253
who was at one time mayor of that ancient city,
belonged to a family of good repute in the county
of Chester. He had a pious mother, " who, hav
ing lived just long enough to devote him, as
Hannah did her Samuel, unto the service of the
sanctuary, left him under the more immediate
care of Heaven to fit him for that service." And
gracious Heaven accepted the charge of this
child of the covenant. The mother's dying
prayer is the infant's best legacy. She follows
the prayer to heaven with such speed, that it is
doubtful which enters first. Let not such little
ones be accounted of as orphanized or forlorn.
They have a shepherd to feed, and a fold to
¦ guard them. As one of the old puritan divines
has said ; — " Jesus opens to them his arms and
the bosom of his Church, to warm them into
spiritual life to be manifested in due time." *
The mother's last prayer was so effectually
answered, that the child gave evidence of the
grace of God ere he was sent to the university,
and lived all his days a devout and conscien
tious life, without one blemish left on record
against him.
At the age of fourteen, he had made great

* J. Angier, 1652.
VOL. II. 22

254 LIFE OFJOHN DAVENPORT.
proficiency in his studies, and was admitted to
Brazen-Nose College at Oxford, in 1611. Here
he addicted himself to the closest mental appli
cation, and formed those habits of intense and
protracted study which he maintained through
life. The vigorous buddings of his youth de
cidedly indicated " the growth and greatness of
his honorable age." At that seat of science he
remained about five years : but left it, soon after
taking his first degree, to enter, young as he
was, upon the active duties of that ministry, to
which he had been consecrated by his mother's
expiring breath.
He appears to have officiated at first as chap
lain at Hilton castle, in the neighborhood of
Durham. In this sort of duty many of the
most distinguished divines of that day began
their ministrations. When he was nineteen
years of age, he was called to London, where he
labored, at first, as assistant to another clergy
man; but was, soon after, made vicar of St.
Stephen's Church, in Coleman street.
One of his parishioners here was Theophilus
Eaton, who, though somewhat older than Dav
enport, was his fellow-townsman and the friend
of his childhood. Eaton's father was one of the
ministers of Coventry, where Davenport's father

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 255
was chief civic magistrate. Eaton, declining to
enter the ministry to which he had been urged
by his friends, became a substantial and suc
cessful London merchant. It is probable that
Eaton's influence was active in bringing his
early friend, the youthful preacher, to the great
metropolis. From that time they lived in the
closest intimacy, and afforded a lovely example
of religious friendship. Together they came to
these shores, together they settled the New
Haven colony, where they presided for many
years, the one as governor, and the other as
pastor, over the rising fortunes of that commu
nity. The ties which united them are un
broken ;
' Bonds, which defying still all Fortune's power,
Time could not loosen, nor could Death divide.'
Blessed is the man who has even one such tried
and trusted confidant. He can never be wholly
wretched. 1 True happiness
Consists not in the multitude of friends,
But in the worth and choice.'
Mr. Davenport's youthfulness gave some
celebrity to his early ministry, to which his high
accomplishments as a preacher conduced still
more. About this time too, the city of London

256 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
was visited by a dreadful plague, which swept
away its victims with ruthless rapidity. While
many of the pastors forsook their flocks, and
fled from the wasting pestilence, the young
vicar of St. Stephen's, continued to watch over
his , charge, and courageously visited the af
flicted- and-the-dying. with the consolations of
the gospel. His Christian fidelity raised hfnTto
notice and to high. esteem.
As Mr. Davenport "sowed beside all waters,"
he, by the grace of God, laid the Baptist denom
ination under some obligation ; as being, about
this time, the means of the conversion of Wil
liam Kiffen, who afterwards became a minister
of note in that communion.
Although removed from the University, and
burdened with the care of a great parish, he
intermitted none of the studies needful to a
" universal scholar." He went to Oxford in
1625, and passed the customary trials, with
much approbation ; receiving at the same time
the degrees of Master of Arts, and of Bachelor
in Divinity. He continued all his days to be an
indefatigable scholar. With him, " the mid
night lamp " was no figure of speech, but a
customary matter of fact. The habit of late
studies, which has proved fatal to so many

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 2-57
others, appears in him to have had no injurious
effect. He bestowed great care upon the preparation
of his sermons, writing them out more fully
than was usual with the ministers of his day,
and then enlarging in the delivery. In his
manner of speaking was combined a calm
gravity with an intense earnestness, which
fixed the attention of his hearers in an extraor
dinary manner. His veriest enemies were con
strained to own that he was " the prince of
preachers." Indeed one of his friends has said,
that" " he was worthy to be a preacher to
princes." During his ministry in London, he was
" acquainted with great men, and great things,
and was great himself, and had a great fame
abroad in the world." Some of the most dis
tinguished men around him were his intimate
friends. Of these we may mention Dr. John
Preston, Master of Emmanuel College, Cam
bridge. His popularity as a teacher was such,
that Fuller calls him the greatest pupil-monger
ever known in England. This man, a learned
theologian, and most eloquent preacher, was
also a deep politician. James I. made him
chaplain to the Prince of Wales, and to himself;
22*

258 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
and urged upon him the rich bishopric of Glou
cester. On the death of James, Dr. Preston
rode up to London in a close coach with the
young king and the Duke of Buckingham.
He was again offered a bishopric, and the office
of Lord-Keeper of the Great Seal, which was
the highest office in the State, and entitled the
holder to preside in the house of peers. These
tempting lures were offered, in the hopes of
bringing over the puritan party to the king's
side by means of Dr. Preston's vast influence.
But the good man was not to be bought. Here
was a man with a conscience. He held fast his
integrity : choosing to bear the frown of the
tyrant, and the scoffs of minions, and the perse
cution of hierarchs, rather than swerve from his
integrity, or be enticed from his principles.
Before he died, which was in 1628, this cele
brated man showed his confidence in the young
vicar of St. Stephen's, by leaving his writings
to be published under Mr. Davenport's care ; by
whom, accordingly they were edited.
A year or two before Dr. Preston's death, and
while he was chief manager of the affairs of the
Puritans, -there was an association formed, about
the year 1626, for the purpose of supplying with
an able ministry such parts of England as were

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 259
destitute. The greater part of the church liv
ings were in the hands of men, who pocketed
the profits without discharging the duties of
their sacred office. These duties were usually
delegated to miserable starvelings, hired at the
very shabbiest wages, incapable of preaching,
and whose labors extended only to the reading
of the Book of Common Prayer, and sometimes
of a printed homily. This was all the spiritual
instruction provided for many, even of the
largest, parishes. The ministry was thus brought
into contempt, religion degraded into a merce
nary affair, and the souls of the people pined
under a famine of the Word of God.
The case was made still worse by what are
called "lay-impropriations." By the laws of
the land, one tenth part of all the annual pro
ducts of the soil 'belongs to the established
Church. These tithes should, properly, be paid
to the rector of the parish. But in the popish
times, when the country abounded in monas
teries, the tithes of very many of the parishes
were appropriated to the support of different
monastic establishments. In such cases the
monastery was bound to furnish a priest to serve
the parish, who as he acted vicariously, in their
behalf, was called the vicar. The tithes, after

260 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
paying the vicar his stipend, went to increase
the wealth of the monastery. When the con
ventual establishments were suppressed by
Henry VIII., he scattered their riches among
his courtiers and satellites. Among the rest,
these appropriated tithes became the property of
laymen, and are called " lay-impropriations : " —
and very gross improprieties they are ! This
enormous abuse, and perversion of funds, con
tinues to the present time. Many of the
wealthiest noblemen* and commoners of England
luxuriate in these spoils of the Church, spoils
which did not originally belong even to the
Church by any law of Christ, or any righteous
ordinance of man's enacting. Lay-impropria
tions are bought and sold, like any other species
of property. The lay-owner grasps the revenues
wrested from the Church, and doles out some
pittance thereof to his clerical vicar ; who in his
turn, perhaps, squeezes out a paltry modicum to
some lean and hungry curate on whom it de
volves to feed the flock as well as he may. The
people, all the while, have no voice in the
matter, and no privilege but that of paying over
their money, whether they conform or dissent,
to men who render not the slightest equivalent.
To say nothing of the atrocious injustice of

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 261
this system, it is evident that its tendency must
be to depress the working-clergy, and to consign
their duties to men incompetent, and of the
lowest order of qualifications. It occurred to the
Puritans in Dr. Preston's time, to apply a
remedy to this shameful state of things. A
fund was raised by voluntary contribution for
the purchase of as many of these lay-impropria
tions. as possible. The income of them was to
be expended in the support of preachers called
lecturers, who were to preach statedly in those
parish-churches where the incompetency of the
minister in charge made such assistance desir
able. It was a sort of home-missionary society.
It met with very great favor, so that in a short
time above six thousand- pounds were collected,
and invested in the purchase of thirteen impro
priations. It seemed as though this association
in no long period would be able to buy in all
this description of property, and restore it to
those religious uses from which it had been so
scandalously alienated.
But as all the lecturers employed by this
association were zealous Puritans, the persecut
ing party soon took the alarm. Dr. Heylin, one
of Laud's sycophantic underlings, raised a pro
digious panic : and it was not long before the

262 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
trustees who conducted the business, or, as they
were called, the " feoffees in trust," found them
selves arraigned before the Court of Exchequer.
The feoffees were twelve in number : four of
them clergymen, of whom our Mr. Davenport
was one ; four of them were lawyers, of whom
one was a king's sergeant ; and ' four of them
were citizens, one of whom was the Lord Mayor
of London. At the instigation of attorney-gen
eral Noy, the Exchequer condemned the asso
ciation as dangerous and illegal ; confiscated to
the king's use the whole of the property it had
acquired ; and referred the punishment of the
feoffees, as criminals, to that infamous tribunal
the star chamber."* The unpopularity of the
prosecution, however, prevented the matter from
being carried any further : and Mr. Davenport
and his associates in this pious and laudable
undertaking, after suffering much anxiety, were
permitted to escape the fines and other penalties
with which they had been threatened.
Qn this afflictive occasion, Mr. Davenport
wrote the following passages in his great
Bible;— "Feb. 11, 1632. The business of the feoffees

* Hanbury's Hist. Memorials. Vol. I., p. 470-2.

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 263
being to be heard the third time at the Ex
chequer, I prayed earnestly that God would
assist our counselors in opening the case, and
be. pleased to grant, that they might get no
advantage against us, to punish us as evil doers;
promising to observe what answer he gave.
Which, seeing he hath graciously done, and de
livered me from the thing I feared, I record to
these ends ; —
" 1. To be more industrious in my family.
" 2. To check my unthankfulness.
" 3. To quicken myself to thankfulness.
" 4. To awaken myself to more watchfulness
for the time to come, in remembrance of his
mercy. ." Which I beseech the Lord to grant; upon
whose faithfulness in his covenant, I cast myself
to be made faithful in my covenant.
"John Davenporte."*
In the year 1631, he was convened before
bishop Laud, and subjected to trouble and ex
pense, on the ground of his Puritanism. He
was also convened before the High Commission
Court as a notorious delinquent, though in a
matter very honorable to him. The Queen of

* He always spelled his name with this final letter.

264 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
Bohemia, the king's sister, had earnestly so
licited Charles, that collections might be made
throughout England in aid of the poor banished
ministers of the Palatinate of the Rhine. This
part of her husband's dominions had been sub
jugated in a religious war by the papist emperor
of Germany : and the ministers were driven into
exile. The king was disposed to grant the
desired brief for the collections : but Laud
interposed to prevent it, first, because those
impoverished ministers, suffering as they were
for the faith, were Calvinists and Presbyterians;
and secondly, because, in the brief, the Church
of Rome is said to be anti-christian. From
whence it would follow, as his lordship inferred,
that Rome " was in no capacity to confer sacer
dotal power in ordinations, and, consequently,
the benefit of the priesthood, and the force of
holy ministrations, would be lost in the English
Church, forasmuch as she has no orders but
what she derives from the Church of Rome."
As the result of Laud's opposition, the brief was
altered, and the undertaking fell through. Upon
this, Mr. Davenport united with Doctors Sibbs,
Gouge, and other puritan divines, who pitied the
necessities of their exiled brethren of Germany,
in promoting a private subscription for their re-

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 265
lief. As soon as the bishop, whom Milton calls
" the grim wolf," heard of this charitable pro
ceeding, he arraigned its promoters before hi3
infamous High Commission, and stopped the
business. This is the man so fondly lauded by
the " Oxford divines," as the " martyred Saint
William ! " And this, indeed, was one of the
least of his misdoings.
Up to this time, Mr. Davenport had been a
conformist. Though disliking many things en
joined in the established church, and resolute to
have them reformed, he persuaded himself that
it was his duty, for the present, to practice
them. When he heard that John Cotton had
resigned his church at Boston in old England,
and was endeavoring to escape to America, Mr.
Davenport sought a conference with him, not
doubting but he should convince Mr. Cotton,
that he ought to conform, rather than to leave
his flock. In the " Life of John Cotton," we
have given some account of the interesting con
ferences held for this purpose, in which Mr.
Davenport was assisted by two other learned
and noted ministers. Instead of bringing Mr.
Cotton over to their views, the result was, that
they went entirely over to him. There was no
resisting the meekness and mildness of that
vol. n. 23

266 LIFE OF J OH N DAVENPORT.
godly and erudite man. Mr. Davenport also
discussed these matters with bishop Laud, who,
trusting to the terrors of ecclesiastical penalties,
made the remark ; — " I thought I had settled his
judgment." The prelate was vexed to find him
self mistaken, and to learn that Mr. Davenport
had resigned his benefice, and fled across the
seas from the pursuivants who were after him
with their warrants. And yet the relentless
oppressor testified to the moral worth of the
fugitive in a speech to the. house of Lords,
speaking of him as " a most religious man, who
fled to New England for the sake of a good con
science ! " *
From the time of his becoming an avowed
non-conformist, Mr. Davenport was made to
feel the wrath of his diocesan. Being seasona
bly warned of what was in preparation against
him, he felt it his duty to secure himself by
flight. He was too conscientious to leave his
flock without their full consent. He was not
one of those who "too slightly and suddenly
quit, what they had before so seriously and sol
emnly accepted : as if# their pastoral charges
were like their clothes or upper garments, to be

* Answer to Lord Say's speech.

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 267
put off at pleasure, to cool themselves in every
heat." He convened the principal members of
St. Stephen's church. Owning their right in
him as their pastor, he declared that no danger
should drive him from any service or exposure
they might require at his hands. He then
asked their advice in regard to the existing exi
gency. After sad and serious deliberation, they
discharged him from all special obligation to
them, and sorrowfully consented to accept his
resignation. Finding that his retirement from his sphere
of pastoral duty did not exempt him from the
eager pursuit of the bishop's officials, he betook
himself to Holland, in the latter part of 1633.
The blasts of persecution only convey the
winged seeds of truth upon the pinions of the
wind. The stormy breath of opposition may
blow with all its fury. It cannot quench the
flame. It will but scatter the glowing sparks,
and kindle each of them to a living blaze, and
spread around a wider conflagration.
On getting to Holland, Mr. Davenport became
colleague with Rev. John Paget, for many years
pastor of an English church at Amsterdam. For
some six months, affairs went on happily. But
the senior pastor, an aged man, was a violent

268 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
Presbyterian ; and, among other things, insisted
that baptism should be administered to all chil
dren who might be presented for the purpose.
This indiscriminate baptism of all children with
out regard, to the character of the parents, was
^the practice of the Dutch churches. Mr. Dav
enport utterly refused to sanction such a prac
tice, and argued strenuously against it. A warm
controversy on this subject, arose between him
and Mr. Paget. The latter procured a decision
of the Dutch classis or presbytery, to which
their church, belonged, adverse to his colleague.
Mr. Davenport, who was as much opposed to
presbyterial government as he was to the profa
nation of the sacrament of baptism, would not
acquiesce in that decision. Being constrained,
after some six months, to retire from the public
duties of his ministry, he restricted himself to
lecturing catechetically on Sabbath evenings to
a small assemblage which met at his lodgings.
But even this private meeting was forbidden by
the civil authority. Beside the usual strife of
tongues, this dispute occasioned a pamphletary
war ; of which the last publication was Mr,
Davenport's " Apologetical Reply," printed at
Rotterdam in 1636.
Satisfied by this time, that the yoke of Dutch

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 269

presbyterianism was nearly as insupportable as
that of English prelatism, he resolved to betake
himself to the free wildernesses of America.
He had received letters from Mr. Cotton giving
a glowing account of matters here ; and telling
him, " that the order of the churches and the
commonwealth was now so settled in New
England, by common consent, that it brought
into his mind the new heaven and the new
earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness." Mr.
Davenport had always been a warm advocate of
that colonial enterprise. He was one of those
by whose means the Massachusetts patent was
obtained. At his own request, his name was
not inserted among those of the patentees, for i
fear it might provoke a fiercer opposition in the j
privy council, from his old adversary Laud, who j
was then bishop of London. He contributed
the generous sum of fifty pounds to help in pro
curing the charter, and exerted his influence
every way he could, to promote the under
taking. He felt that the leadings of Providence
were drawing him to this western strand. " He
that openeth, and no man shutteth ; and shut-
teth, and no man openeth," — He, with provi
dential hand, had closed every door of usefulness
against him, except that which stood open beyond
the Atlantic. 23*

270 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
To prepare for this' voyage, Mr. Davenport
returned to London. Ever tenacious of his prin
ciples, he told his old friends there, "that he
thought God carried him over into Holland, on
purpose to bear witness against that promiscuous
baptism." He and his faithful companion, The-
ophilus Eaton, collected a band of colonists,
whom they led out of spiritual Egypt, the house
of bondage and oppression, into the distant land
of promise. He who divided the Red Sea
before the Israelites, gave this little company as
safe a passage across the ocean. They arrived
at Boston in the Hector and another ship; on the
twenty-sixth of June, 1637. Among other pas
sengers, who came with this expedition, was
Edward Hopkins, son-in-law of Governor Eaton,
and himself for many years governor of Con
necticut- colony. By his will, he became a
distinguished benefactor of Harvard College,
and several other institutions of learning in
New England. With these came also Lord
Leigh, son and heir of the Earl of Marlboro', a
youth of nineteen, humble and pious, who came
merely to see the country ; and returned to
England a few weeks after, in company with
Sir Henry Vane.
Mr. Davenport was heartily welcomed by

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 271
Mr. Cotton and his associates. His arrival
occurred while the whole country was agitated
by the antinomian convulsion. On the seven
teenth of August, he preached in the clay -built
church of Boston, from the text ; — " Now I
beseech you, brethren, by the name of our Lord
Jesus Christ, that ye all speak the same thing,
and that there be no divisions among you ; but
that ye be perfectly joined together in the same
mind, and in the same judgment." 1 Cor. 1 : 10.
In this sermon, as Governor Winthrop, who
heard it, tells us, " as he fully set forth the
nature and danger of divisions, and the disor
ders which were among us, so he clearly discov
ered his judgment against the new opinions and
bitter practices which were sprung up here. He
at once took an active part in the adjustment of
that perilous controversy : and his wisdom and
knowledge were made conspicuous in the Synod
of 1637, by which those dangerous errors were
suppressed. At the request of the Synod, he
closed the proceedings by a sermon on the text,
Phil. 3 : 16 ; — " Nevertheless, whereunto we
have attained, let us walk by the same rule, let
us mind the same thing." In this discourse, he
declared the result of the assembly, and, " with
much wisdom and sound argument," urged to
unity and harmony.

272 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
This troublesome business being disposed of,
he set himself in earnest to find a place of abode
for his colony. This body of emigrants was
composed of " very desirable folk," and the
Massachusetts people were very earnest to have
them settle in " the Bay." The Charlestown
settlers made them large offers of their territory ;
the grantees of Newbury offered them their
whole town; and the General Court begged
their acceptance of any ungranted region within
the bounds of the patent. The refusal of these
urgent invitations was regarded as almost an
unkindness by those who coveted this accession
to their strength.
But Mr. Davenport and Mr. Eaton had already
visited Quinipiac, to which they afterwards gave
the name of New Haven. They were much
taken with the beauty and fertility of that tract
of country : and, inasmuch as they had no royal
grant or patent, and that region was not included
in the limits of any patent already given, they
hoped, by living there, to be exempted from the
authority of_any governor general. The peo
ple, at that time, were apprehensive that such a
governor would be sent out by the king to re
strain their liberties ; and the wish to escape
from such authority was very natural. More-

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 273
over, it was taken into consideration, that it was
important to forestall the Dutch colonists of New •
Amsterdam, now New York, who were intend
ing to secure Quinipiac for themselves. Another
advantage likely to result from the forming of
this English settlement was, the strengthening
of the infant colony of Connecticut, whose head
quarters were at Hartford. These two colonies
continued to be entirely distinct for many years.
It was also thought, that Mr. Davenport's resi
dence in Massachusetts might tend to draw
down upon that colony the speedier wrath of
archbishop Laud, who loved them not before.
When he heard, that Mr. Davenport had fled to
New England to avoid the storm of prelatic in
dignation, that bitter persecutor grimly said ; —
" My arm shall reach him there ! " It was sup
posed that the scattering of those who were
obnoxious to Laud into different places, might
lessen the motives for stretching out his potent
arm against them. As it was, that arch-priestof
unrelenting superstition had obtained a commis
sion from the king to exercise his ghostly
tyranny over these colonies, and compel con
formity by the severest measures. But the
political excitements at home obliged him and
fcis monarch to confine their activity to resisting

274 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
a revolution whose whirlings threw their heads
from off their shoulders. As John Cotton ex
pressed it ; — " God rocked three nations with
shaking dispensations, in order to procure some
rest for these infant churches."
Mr. Davenport and his companions gave as
their principal reason for removing to New
Haven after nine months' stay in the older
colony, that most of them were Londoners, who
were not so well fitted for an agricultural,. as for
a commercial, settlement ; which they thought
might be formed with better prospects at Quini-
piac than at any unoccupied place on the Bay.
They sailed from Boston for the place of their
destination on the thirtieth of March, 1638.
They left a letter, dated the twelfth of the same
month, and addressed to the government at
Boston. In this affectionate farewell, they ac
knowledge gratefully the kindness they had
experienced. They anticipate the future ser
vices which shall be mutually rendered by the
older plantation and that which they are going
to make. These plantations, they say, " the
Divine Providence hath combined together in as
strong bond of brotherly affection, by the same
ness of their condition, as Joab and Abishai
were, whose several armies did mutually

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 275
strengthen them both against several ene
mies : — or rather they are joined together as
Hippocrates his twins, to stand and fall, to grow
and decay, to flourish and wither, to live and
die together."
After all, it is not unlikely, that one of the
principal motives which induced Mr. Davenport
to urge his companions to plant themselves in
an unsubdued part of the wilderness, was an in
clination to have their own way. They wished
to frame their church and commonwealth on a
model morej^roiudhjyjmpjural than could be
found anywhere else. Mr. Davenport, as well
as John Robinson, had observed, that reforma- ;
tion is seldom carried further in any place than
where the first reformers left the work. Mr.
Davenport remarked, that " as easily might the
ark have been removed from the mountains o
Ararat, where it first grounded, as a people get
any ground in reformation after and beyond the
first remove of the reformers." With such sen
timents, it was natural, that he should wish to
have the religious and civil affairs of his colony,
from the outset, fashioned in the strictest con
formity with the rules of the Bible. This could
be best effected where every thing was to be
begun anew.

276 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
This band of pilgrims reached Quinipiac, the
future New Haven, on the fourteenth of April,
1638. Mr. Davenport was then forty-one years
of age. The next day is the Sabbath. A drum
beats in the rude and hasty encampment. The
armed men, with their wives and children,
gather at this signal under ¦ a branching oak.
They meet- to consecrate to God a new region
reclaimed from heathen darkness. For the first
time the aisles of that foTest-temple resounded
with the 'praises of the Most High. Here are
men who were nurtured in the halls of Oxford
and Cambridge ; and women used to all the
elegant refinements of the British metropolis.
They are gathered under the oaken tree. Why
are they here ? Why this change in their con
dition ? Why are they here, far from the haunts
of civilization, confronting privation and suffer
ing in every form? It is for conscience, to keep
that sacred thing unspotted :— it is for pos
terity : — for eternity : — for God ! Surely angels
rejoiced, while Infinite Love smiled upon the
scene. Mr. Davenport preached from the text,
Matthew 4 : 1, — " Then was Jesus led up of
the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of
the devil : " — and his subject was, " the tempta
tions of the wilderness." Every place, however

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPQRT. 277
sequestered, has its trials. In every place, we
have need to watch and pray.
The colonists were in no rash haste to frame
their institutions. During the fourteen months
in which they were laboriously erecting their
dwellings, and clearing their lands, they were
much occupied in social prayer and conference,
with reference to the important undertaking
before them. During this period Mr. Daven
port prepared his " Discourse about civil govern
ment in a New Plantation whose Design is
Religion." This treatise was published many
years after, in 1673. It is a vindication of the
practice, long maintained by our fathers, of
restricting the rights of voting, and of holding
office, to such as are members of the Church.
When ripe for action, "all the free planters "
assembled on the fourth of June, 1639, in a
barn, for the purpose of organizing a civil gov
ernment. There was a sermon by Mr. Daven
port from Proverbs 9 : 1, — " Wisdom hath
builded her house, she hath hewn ouf her seven
pillars." After much other discourse by differ
ent individuals, they formed a literal " social
contract," and erected themselves into a body
politic by a mutual compact. It was then unani
mously agreed to choose twelve men to lay the
vol. n. 24

278 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
foundation of the church.- These twelve men
were empowered to select seven out of their own
number to constitute the' new church. This
number may have beeti suggested as an allusion
to the sevenpillars of Wisdom's house : but
more probably it was adopted because our fath
ers considered seven to be the smallest number
which could issue a case of discipline according
to the directions of our Saviour in the eigh
teenth chapter of Matthew. Of this particular
seven, Mr. Davenport was one. He, with the
six, entered into a covenant, and constituted the
first church in New Haven on the twenty-sec
ond of August, 1639. Being thus gathered,
they proceeded to admit others into their fel
lowship. Shortly after the church was organized, Mr.
Davenportwas chosen pastor. He was ordained
by the hands of two or three of the lay-brethren,
though Mr. Hooker and Mr. Stone, the rever
end pastors of the church in Hartford, were
present, a*nd one of them made the prayer.
This ceremony was used, notwithstanding the
validity of Mr. Davenport's ordination in the
Church of England was not doubted. ...But it
was held, that his earlier ordination could not
constitute him a minister of this new church,

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 279
any more than a man's being a lawful magis
trate in England would make him a magistrate
in a foreign jurisdiction without further commis
sion. Such ordinations of one who had pre
viously been admitted to the ministry, our
fathers regarded just as we do what we call
installations. The laying on of hands was
used, as often as a minister was translated from
one pastoral charge to another. It was intended
merely as a solemn recognition of him in his
new relation to a particular church.
Ordination by laymen, usually the ruling
elders and deacons of the church, was practiced
only in a few instances in the first settlement of
this country : and soon went into disuse.
Ojher._cJiurches rapidly sprung up around
New Haven ; and religion in its highest purity
as to faith and order flourished among them.
They could soon sing with satisfaction Stern-
hold's antiquated stave ; —
" Go walk about all Syon hill,
Yea, round about her go :
And tell the towres that thereupon
Are builded on a roe :
And marke you well her bulwarkes all,
Behold her towres there,
That ye may tell thereof to them
That after shall be here.
For this God is our God forevermore is hee ;
Yea, and unto the death also, our guider shall he be."

280 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.

Their minister was an original genius, and the
plan he adopted was his own, " and if success
be any evidence of merit, he certainly has high
claims to the veneration and gratitude of na-
t tions." " There the famous church of New
Haven, as also the neighboring towns, enjoyed
his ministry, his discipline, his government, and
his universal direction for many years. The
.holiness, the watchfulness, and the usefulness of
his ministry, are worthy of the remembrance of
all who would set before them an example of
ministerial excellence." *
From this time Mr. Davenport exercised his
ministry in great peace, and with the happiest
effects. He was ^e spiritual father of the com
munity which grew up around him, taking its
character from the strong impression of his irre-
isistible influence. He was regarded with the
(reverence and love which belonged to the patri
archs of old : and rejoiced in many seals of his
ministry whom he gathered into the church, not
without a most careful, and yet gentle examina
tion, on which duty he laid the greatest stress.
The society of his old friend, the excellent
Eaton, for twenty years the governor of the new

* Brooke's Puritans, III. 450.

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 281
colony, was a great solace to the exiled Puritan.
An eloquent passage from Dr. Bacon's invalua
ble " Historical Discourses" is entitled to inser
tion here. " He and his friend Eaton build
their dwellings over against each other on the
same street ; and the intimacy begun when they
were children, and strengthened in their early
manhood, is prolonged without interruption, till
in a good old age, death separates them for a
season, to meet again in heaven. They were
never out of each other's thoughts ; and rarely
could a day pass by, in which they did not see
each other, and take counsel together. , The
voice of prayer, or the evening psalm, in one of
their dwellings, might be heard in the other.
Whatever changes came upon one family, the
other was sure to partake immediately in the
sorrow or the joy. In such neighborhood and
intimacy, these two friends passed their days
here, till the full strength of manhood in which
they came, had gradually turned to venerable
age. They saw trials, many and various ;
trials such as weigh heaviest on the spirit, and
cause the heart to faint ; but, in all their trials>
they had one hope, one consolation ; and how
refreshing to such men, in such vicissitudes, is
the sympathy of kindred souls', well-tried and
24*

282 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
true. Strong in themselves, with the gifts of
nature, the endowments of education and expe
rience, and the unction of Almighty grace ;
strong in their individual reliance upon God,
their help and Saviour ; they were the stronger
for their friendship, the stronger for their mutual
counsels, the stronger for the sympathy by which
each drew the other towards the great Fountain
of strength, and love, and life. Such are the
friendships of good men. Their intimacies make
them better, holier, happier, more patient for en
durance, wiser for counsel, stronger for every
godlike action."
In 1651, the Second Church in Boston,
which was then recently formed, invited Mr.
Davenport to become their pastor : but he was
too firmly attached to his flock, to leave it with
out clearer convictions that such was his duty
than he felt at that time.
As he became an old man, he saw the face of
society around him changing. His beloved
Eaton and many more of his fellow-pilgrims
had gone the way of all the earth, and others
were coming up in their room. But nothing
could quench his zeal, or slacken his industry.
He made strenuous and successful exertions to
bring about the establishment of a college in

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 283
New Haven, which, in time, was effected. The
common-school system of New England rose up
very much from his influence, being ever zealous
for universal education.
On the restoration of Charles II., in 1660,
some who had been active in the times of the
commonwealth, were brought to the scaffold ;
and others fled for their lives. The surviving
members of the court which condemned Charles
I. to the scaffold, were pursued with special fury.
Of these regicide judges, as they were called,
four, at least, escaped to this country. One of
them, Thomas Revel, died in Braintree ; one,
Col. Dixwell, died in New Haven, and two
more in the town of Hadley. These two were
Whalley and Goffe, who had been major gen
erals ; and stood in the same relation to Crom
well, wherein Napoleon's marshals stood to that
"man of destiny." Goffe and Whalley were
too conspicuous marks of royal vengeance to be
allowed an easy escape.
Great efforts were made by the partizans of
the king to effect the arrest of this pair of com
patriots, who were men of interesting personal
character and eminent piety, as well as distin
guished for the high stations they had filled.
They sought concealment in one place after

284 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
another ; avoiding arrest, only through the
strong sympathy of the magistrates and people.
They came to New Haven on the seventh of
March. On this occasion Mr. Davenport
preached a sermon whose boldness bordered on
tetnerity» He courageously and successfully
sought to awake the strongest public sentiment
in behalf of the fugitives. He applied to the
case those striking words of the prophet ; —
" Take counsel, execute judgment ; make thy
shadow as the night in the midst of the noon
day ; hide the outcasts, bewray not him that
wandereth : let mine outcasts dwell with thee,
Moab ; be thou a covert to them from the face
of the spoiler."
The people were thus prepared to do their
utmost to screen the hunted men. Of the
many individuals who must have been aware of
their hiding-places, not one was tempted either
by fear of punishment, or hope of rich reward,
to betray them. Among other places, they
were concealed for more than a month in Mr.
Davenport's house. Chased from one retreat to
another, they were secreted for some three
months in a cave in the vicinity of New Haven.
Learning, while there, that Mr. Davenport was
in danger of being arrested under a charge of

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 285
concealing them, they came into the town, and
showed themselves openly, for the purpose of
clearing him of the charge. After " wandering
in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens, and
caves of the earth," the violence of pursuit
gradually died away. They passed many years
in devout seclusion, and died at last in peace.
In Mr. Davenport's conduct on this occasion,
was blended great courage and adroitness. <
" Not fearing the wrath of the king," he dis
played a generous and magnanimous friendship
worthy of those heroic times, when good men
felt, that " opposition to tyrants is obedience to
God." The people of the Connecticut colony, in
1662, obtained a charter from Charles II., of the
most favorable charapter. In this charter the
New Haven territory was added to theirs ; and
they at once claimed jurisdiction. .The New
Haven colony, for a time, warmly resisted the
change ; but was at last constrained to acquiesce.
This change was exceedingly distasteful to Mr.
Davenport, who feared that the civil and relig
ious order he had fostered with such care might '
be impaired as to its purity or efficacy.
Another thing which sorely afflicted him was,
the introduction of what was called the " Half-

286 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
Way Covenant," into the New England church
es. After many attempts to bring in this prac
tice, it was decided in a synod held in Boston
in 1662, that all persons who had been baptized
in their infancy, and who would come forward
and own their covenant obligations, should have
the privilege of baptism for their children.
The next innovation was, to consider this class
of persons as members entitled to the actual
enjoyment of all the privileges of the church,
except the right of coming to the Lord's table.
It required but one step more to make such per
sons members in full communion, though pro
fessing to be total strangers to any such thing as
a work of grace in the heart. At last it was
argued that such as were members of the church, *
might also enter the ministry ; and accordingly
many confessedly unregenerate persons were
inducted into the sacred office. It took some
seventy years or more to complete all these suc
cessive declensions. But a hundred years ago
these corruptions had nearly reached the lowest
. depth of laxity. The glory of New England
j had mostly departed. Armiriianism had made
great inroads ; and although speculative ortho
doxy still held the most of the ground, it was for
the most part dead and barren. The great

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 2S7
revival in the time of Edwards and Whitefield,
for a season, checked the decay of evangelical
sentiments. But the process of corruption soon
resumed its course, until the early part of this
century witnessed that terrible apostacy from
the faith of our fathers and the doctrines of the
gospel, over which the Massachusetts churches
are still mourning in sackcloth.
This train of innovations was not started
without a warm opposition. When the result 1
of the synod in 1662 was published, the whole
country was at once divided into parties, which
were distinguished by the names of Synodist
and Anti-synodist. Among the Synodists,
strange and sad to say, were some of the most
beloved and venerated of the old stock of puri
tan ministers. Alas, these good men saw not
whither the path they were opening would tend.
But Mr. DavenpoTt fully anticipated the deplora
ble results which were reached at last. Many
years before, he hacUcombatedUthe same erro
neous principles while an exile in Holland.
And now that they had broken out in New
England, he opposed them with the firmness of
age, as well as the unabated fire of his youth.
He became the leader of the Anti-synodists, and
discharged some of the heaviest guns in that

288 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
pamphlet-war. Several of his manuscripts re
lating to this contest are preserved by the Anti
quarian Society at Worcester.
I While this controversy was waging, the
J' First church in Boston was deprived by death
! of both its pastors. The learned Norton and
the beloved Wilson were gone. Both of these
good men were in favor of that unfortunate
synod ; and the greater part of the church-mem
bers had assented to its canons. But in those
difficult and exciting times, it was thought that
l no young man, and no man not bred at the
'< English universities, could be competent to take
the charge of that important church. The eyes
of the majority were turned towards Mr. Dav
enport. He was then in his seventieth year,
and had been an invalid for a long time ; but he
was at the height of his reputation, and his pow
ers in the pulpit were unimpaired by age. The
changes which had taken place at New Haven,
where he had ministered for thirty years, made
him more willing than formerly to leave it. He
felt too, that he had a great duty in reference to
withstanding the dangerous deviations which
were going on at Boston. He accepted the call
\ which was tendered him. The church of New
\ Haven clung to him with a desperate tenacity ;

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 289
utterly refused to grant him any kind of dis-';
mission ; and, after long and tedious correspond
ence, would only passively acquiesce in letting
him do as he pleased. They adopted the lan
guage of the saints at Cesarea, when Paul would
not desist from going to Jerusalem ; — " When
he would not be persuaded, we ceased, saying,
The will of the Lord be done."
At the same time his settlement at Boston
was vigorously opposed by a minority of the
members of the church, many of them persons
of note and eminence. They were warm up
holders of the Synod ; and, of course, were
vehemently opposed to coming under the minis
try of the leading divine on the other side of the
question, which then was " the most exciting
topic of the day." Their resistance was una
vailing. Mr. Davenport and Mr. James Allen
were, on the ninth of December, 1668, installed
as co-pastors of the First Church.
The disaffected members, to the number of
twenty-eight, withdrew, and were organized at
Charlestown into what in now known as the
Old South Church. This division produced a
long and disturbing contest between these two
churches, in which most of the ministers and
churches in the colony took part. Seventeen
vol. ii. 25

290 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
ministers, probably of the council at Charlestown,
gave their public testimony against the proceed
ings of the First Church, and especially of the
pastors, Davenport and Allen, and ruling-elder
James Penn. The old church published a re
ply. Some of the members of the new church
appear to have been fined and imprisoned for
the supposed irregularity of their proceedings.
The whole colony was drawn into the contest.
Governor Bellingham, who was a member of
the First Church, espoused its cause with zeal.
Of this we find an instance preserved among
the Massachusetts Records. In 1669, his pas
tor, Mr. Davenport, preached the Annual Elec
tion Sermon, which was published. In this, he
expressed his sentiments on the controverted
point. The Deputies who, in that Court, favored
his views, were for passing the customary vote
of thanks for the discourse. The Magistrates
or Assistants, who formed the other branch,
hearing of the pending vote, sent a communica
tion, on the twenty-fifth of May, 1669, to the
Deputies about it, saying that they " conceive
the same to be altogether unseasonable, many
passages in the said sermon, being ill-resented
by the reverend elders of other churches and
persons present; and, therefore, they would

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 291
forbear further proceeding therein." The Sec
retary of the " upper house," Edward Rawson,
attests, that the Governor, who was the pre
siding officer, and who agreed with the Depu
ties in sentiment, refused to put this resolve to
the vote ; and so the vote was taken by Mr.
Bradstreet, who was called by the Magistrates
so to do. The Deputies, of course, did as they
pleased in the premises. The next year also,
Governor Bellingham tried in vain to get the
Council of Magistrates to unite with him in
measures for preventing the erection of the new
house of worship. But though he had no suc
cess in that quarter, he was warmly supported
by the Deputies ; who, at their session in May,
1670, censured the formation of the new church
as "irregular, illegal and disorderly." Great
agitation was the result ; and parties were or
ganized among the people at large. The next
election turned upon this point ; and the new
house of Deputies, at the petition of many of the
ministers, annulled the censure. Thus the new
church triumphed at last. The origin of all this
disturbance, and this ardor in favor of the Half-
Way Covenant, was political. According to the
basis of the government as it then stood, none
could be freemen of the colony, entitled to vote

292 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
and be voted for, except such as were members
of some church acknowledged by the laws of
the land. The Half-Way Covenant was in
tended to bring in a multitude of church-mem
bers, who could be admitted in no other way ;
and who thus became capable of admission to
all the civil privileges of the colony. This" was
the object of most of the Synodists. Mr. Dav
enport, with the Anti-synodists, was for keeping
up the primitive order, both in church and com
monwealth. With him, it was altogether a
religious question ; with the Synodists, it was,
in great part, a question of civil rights, though
they too rested their defence mostly on consider
ations of a religious kind.
Thus the connection between the Church and
State, though at first intended for the advantage
and- security of the former, resulted in its cor
ruption. And it is singular, that most of the
laws which were framed, at intervals, to favor
the Orthodox and Congregational order, in the
process of time and change, came to operate
against that order with ruinous effect, till the
last of those laws was repealed in 1834. The
history of Congregationalism in Massachusetts
is an instructive commentary on such laws, and
proves their pernicious and disastrous bearing

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 293
upon the communities which they are designed
to favor. By no people on earth would the
union of Church and State be more strenuously
resisted than by the good people of Massachu
setts, whose experience has bitterly taught them
the impolicy of such measures.
The contentions between the First and Third
Churches of Boston were sharp and violent.
We have not room to give the particulars.
Suffice it to say, that, after fourteen years of
strife, the First Church and the Old South were
happily reconciled. It is a matter of serious
meditation, that the First Church, in those days,
represented the primitive and high-toned ortho
doxy of the land; while the Third, or, as we
now say, Old South Church, was considered as
leaning toward a laxer discipline.
Mr. Davenport's ministry, which had lasted
nearly twenty years in London, and nearly thirty
years in New Haven, was of short duration at
Boston. "It is ill transplanting a tree that
thrives in the soil." In less than two years
after his last removal, he died very suddenly, of
apoplexy, on the fifteenth of March, 1670,
being seventy-two years of age. He was buried
with every testimonial of respect in the tomb of
the venerated Cotton.
26*

294 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
Mr. Davenport was too familiar with the
thoughts of death to be disconcerted at this
sudden call. Such was his habitual state of
preparation, that he could have adopted the
language of another good man ; — " I bless God
I can lie down with comfort at night, without
being solicitous whether I awake in this world
or another." He who had spent his life in
communing with Christ and his saints on earth,
was ever ready to go and commune with Christ
and saints in heaven. As good Mr. Hooker
said of himself, in his dying hours, he was only
going to change his place, but not his company.
So quickly was Mr. Davenport's life taken
away, — or rather, so quickly was death given to
him, — that he left none of those golden words
which so many expiring saints have bequeathed
as a treasured legacy, to help such as are com
ing after them to die.
It may have been a presentiment that his end
might be too sudden to allow of a long death-
prayer, that made Mr. Davenport constantly
use those devout ejaculations which were his
wont. He once solemnly counseled a young
minister, " that he should be much in ejacula-
tory prayer ; for indeed ejaculatory prayers, as
arrows in the hand of a mighty man, so are

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 295
they. Happy is the man that has his quiver
full of them." Those who knew him best,
were satisfied of his skill in this spiritual archery.
He was not only uniform in stated devotions,
whether secret, domestic, or social ; but at every
pause or turn in his daily affairs, he was ever
tying the desires of his soul to these winged
missives ; and vigorously drawing the bow of
faith, he sped them over the walls of heaven.
His example taught what has been beautifully
expressed by Quarles;
" Dart up thy soul in groans ; thy secret groan
Shall pierce His ear, shall pierce His ear alone ;
Dart up thy soul in vows ; thy sacred vow
Shall find Him out where heaven alone shall know ;
Dart up thy soul in sighs ; thy whispering sigh
Shall rouse His ears, and fear no listener nigh ;
Shoot up the bosom-shafts of thy daniro,
Feathered ^tn laitti, and double-forked with fire ;
And ,ney will hit ! — Fear not where Heaven bids come,
Heaven's never deaf, but when man's heart is dumb."
Mr. Davenport was a law,.-- ' studem
throughout his long life. So unremifM was his
application, that it excited the attention of the
wild Indians in his vicinity, who used to call
him, according to their custom of applying sig
nificant or descriptive names, " So-big-study-
man ' Most of his published treatises relate to

296 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
the obsolete controversies of his day ; and have
little interest now, except for the historian or the
antiquary. One volume of his, a work of ex
perimental piety, called " The Saint's Anchor-
hold, in all Storms and Tempests," is worthy
of the republication it would receive, could a
perfect copy be found. He left some expository
and practical writings prepared for publication ;
but, to use one of John Cotton's singular meta
phors, these fair clusters of grapes have never
passed under the press, that all who would
might quaff the juice, and rejoice.
" This grave and serious-spirited man," was
regarded as one of the first preachers of his day.
One who knew him well has said ; — " He was
a person beyond exception and compare, for all
ministerial abilities." Increase Mather, who, in
his earlier life was the intimate Tti^nd of Mr.
Davenport's old age, gives him this testimony ;
~" * Ilu-°. Jieard some say, who knew him in
his youngeryears, that he was then very fer
vent and vehement, as to the manner of his
delivery. But, in his later times, he did very
much imitate Mr. Cotton ; whom, in the gravi
ty of his countenance, he did somewhat resem
ble." Venerable man! We can almost see him

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.

297

rising up in the antiquated pulpit of the First
Church ; the thinness of his frame, wasted by
hard study and disease, concealed by the gown
which the ministers of " the standing order "
then generally wore, when abroad, as a custom
ary article of dress. Being university-men,
they used it, rather as an academical, than a
clerical garb. We noticb-,^ the benevo]ent
visage, mild even to an expression aiii..,.( fo .
nine, were it not for the trim tufts of silvery
beard upon either lip. We see a few bleached
locks escaping from the confinement of the old
" Roundheads' close black cap." The broad
bands of " formal cut " smoothly cover his neck
and bosom. And we are caught by the radia
ting eyes, those windows of the soul, through
which is seen the inward burning, the quench
less life-fire, which age and sorrow cannot dim.
While he is pronouncing his text in measured
tones and slow, the congregation rises up from
the seats as a token of respect for the eternal
word of God. The audience is again seated, to
listen intently to strains of oratory, impassioned,
but well-controlled; such as is the child of entire
conviction, and the mother of full persuasion.
Says the historian, Hubbard, who knew him
well, speaking of him in his old age ; — "Yet

298 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
was he of that vivacity, that the strength of his
memory, profoundness of his judgment, and
floridness of his doctrine, were little, if at all
abated." This was John Davenport ;—" old when
young, such was his gravity of behavior; and
young when old, such wa&ib* quickness of his
endowment "
-— -^-icdi it be said, that this race of men is ex
tinct ? Is there no survivor to be found ? Nay : —
where is that father, or that venerated grand-
sire, — that conscientious, devout, Sabbath-keep
ing Puritan whom you knew in your best, your
youthful days ? Have you forgotten the gather
ing of the household to the morning and evening
sacrifice of the family altar ? Do you no longer
remember the godly man, who, ere he bowed in
prayer, recited a portion of Holy Writ " with
judicious care," with an altered voice, and an
intonation which bespoke his awful sense of the
majesty of the oracles of God, read as no other
book was read ? Does not every sight of the old
Family Bible, between whose Testaments is the
written record of your own birth and baptism,
bring up the patriarchal form to view ? And is it
in your heart to forsake your father's faith and
your father's God ? Will you seem to discredit

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 299
the wisdom and goodness of your parent by for
saking "the good old ways" he chose and
loved ? Will you turn aside to courses, which,
if he be yet living, must bow that reverend head
beneath the weight of sorrow ? Is there left in
your soul no cherished memory of that mother
in Israel, whose holy living looked so saintly
and heavenlike in your youthful days ? Do you
verily feel that the course she took conducted
her safely through the gloomy vale of death to
the city of God, the eternal home of the pure ?
0 follow on in that luminous track, that radiant
path to heaven's gate, which opened so brightly
at her coming.
But if ever there was danger, that the Pu
ritans might be forgotten, all such danger is now
rapidly passing away. If their offspring could
ever prove so degenerate as to forget them, their
memory will be devoutly blessed by others.
Never can the writer of these pages cease to
remember the emotions with which he once lis
tened to that immortal lay,—" The Landing of
the Fathers." It was in the unpuritanical, but
lovely clime of Florida. The accomplished
daughter of one of the old Spanish families, her
self a Romanist, and bred within convent-walls,
took her place at the instrument amid a brilliant

300 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
assembly gathered from many distant regions.
As her fingers ran along the keys, he thought he
could not be mistaken in the familiar symphony
and " soft prelusive strain." But when her rich'
full voice burst forth in the stirring words,
" The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast," —
he was lost in surprise and pleasure. The spell
was ended all too soon, as the last solemn notes
died away, —
" Aye, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod:
They have left unstained, what there they found,
Freedom to worship God ! "
Her gratified hearer could not refrain from ad
vancing to the side of this bright daughter of the
sunny South, and accosting her in the words of
Coleridge to a truly noble Duchess,
" O lady, nursed 'mid pomp and pleasure,
Whence learned you that heroic measure ? "
She turned upon him her intense dark eye,
which flashed with the humid fire peculiar to
the women of her race, and her countenance
kindling with enthusiasm; and replied, — " O
Sir, this is my favorite song. Where can you
find such sentiments combined with such mu
sic? " This incident, in a far-off region, among

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 301
people of other lineage, was felt as a pToud
tribute to our pilgrim-sires.
While engaged in these humble, but affec
tionate endeavors to keep alive the memory of
the good old Puritans of New England ; — and
while rehearsing the mighty deeds of some of
" the chief fathers " of the tribes of our Israel,
it has been like preaching their funeral sermons.
So vital and operative is their surviving influ
ence, that, though dead and silent in the tomb,
they " still speak in reason's ear." So active
are they yet among us, and so familiar to our
contemplations, that they seem almost like old
acquaintances, with whom we have held reverent
and endearing converse. Let us bless God for
the power of religion, so gloriously exemplified
in them ! Let us adore him for the grace which
made them what they were !
We have been wandering pensively " in the
place of graves," among the memorials of the
noble and pious dead. We have raised up the
sinking tablets, and retouched the time-worn
and moss-grown inscriptions. It has been a
labor of sweet, grateful love to twine the fresh
garlands of remembrance around the old sepul
chral urns. And now what does natural piety
and filial gratitude demand of us, who inherit
vol. n. 26

302 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.
the rich fruits of the wisdom, the prayers, and
the sufferings of our sires ? Can we do less than
maintain our stand upon their approved princi
ples and practices ? Can we do less than use,
and act upon, the customary petition of the
pious Deans, to be " delivered from right-hand
extremes, and from left-hand defections ? " Shall
we ever permit ourselves to relapse into that
hierarchal thraldom from which our fathers so
conscientiously fled ? Or to sink down into
hose heresies which they so religiously ab
horred ? May the God of our fathers forbid it !
We are told of the ancient Scythians, that when
forced to retreat in battle, if they chanced to
come to the graves of their ancestors, they
would give back no further. There they would
stand immovable : and either conquer, or die
upon the spot. Oh, let us take our stand where
our fathers sleep in God, and where their dust
is resting in hope. Let us be steadfast to their
faith and order in the gospel ; and be firm, in
cherishing, like them, the life and power of
godliness. So shall we either win the day, or
achieve a death more glorious than victory
itself.

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 303

The following list of Mr. Davenport's printed works, to which,
after very careful research, but little in addition could be found,
is mostly taken from Rev. Dr. Bacon's Historical Researches.
A Royal Edict for Military Exercises, published in a Sermon
preached to the captains and gentlemen that exercise arms in the
Artillery Garden, at their general meeting in Saint Andrews Under-
shaft in London. Lond. 1629. There is a copy in the Atheneum
Library, Boston.
A Letter to the Dutch, containing a Just Complaint against an TJn
just Doer : Wherein is declared the miserable Slavery and Bondage
that the English Church of Amsterdam is now in, by reason of th
Tyrannical Government and Corrupt Doctrine of Mr. John Paget,
their present Minister. By John Davenport.— Anist, 1634. 4to.
Certain Instructions delivered to the Elders of the English Church
deputed, which are to be propounded to the pastors of the Dutch
Church in Amsterdam, 1634. Wood, (Athenee Oxonienses,) calls it
a quarto paper.
1. A Report of some passages or proceedings about his calling to
the English Church in Amsterdam, against John Paget. 2. Allega
tions of Scripture against the baptizing of some kind of infants.
3. Protestation about the publishing of his writings. These three
"liule scripts," as "Wood calls them, were all printed in quarto at
Amsterdam, in 1634. Mr. Paget replied in a book of 156 pages
quarto, entitled, " An Answer to the Unjust Complaints, &c." To
this book Mr. Davenport made a rejoinder in the following article.
An Apologetical Reply to a book called " An Answer to the Unjust
Complaint of W[illiam] B[est,] &c." quarto. Rotterdam, 1636. A
copy of this is among the books deposited by the Old South Church
in the Library of the Mass. Historical Society,
Profession of Faith made publicly before the Congregation at his
admission into one of the Churches of New England; containing
twenty several heads. ]. Concerning the Scriptures, Sec. Lond.
1642. One sheet, quarto.
The Messiah is already come. A Sermon on Acts 2: 36. Lond.
1653. Quarto.

304 LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT.

The Knowledge of Christ, &c, wherein the types, prophecies,
genealogies, miracles, humiliation, &c, of Christ are opened and ap
plied. Quarto, printed 1658 or before.
Catechism containing the chief heads of the Christian Religion.
Lond. 1659, octavo. Published at the desire and for the use of the
Church of Christ in New Haven.
The Saints' Anchor-hold, in all storms and tempests, preached in
sundry sermons, and published for the support and comfort of God's
people in all times of trial. Lond. 1661. 12mo.
Another Essay for investigation of the truth, in answer to two
questions, &c. Cambridge, 1663. Quarto. There is a copy in the
possession of Rev. Thomas Robbins, D. D., of Hartford, Conn.
Election Sermon, at Boston, 1669.
God's Call to his People to turn unto him, &c, in two sermons on
two public fasting days in New England. Lond. 1670. Quarto
The Power of Congregational Churches Asserted and Vindicated ;
In answer to a Treatise of Mr. J. Paget, Intituled, "The Defence of
Church Government, exercised in Classes and Synods." By John
Davenport, B. D., and Pastor to the Church in New Haven in New
England. — Isai. 1 : 26.— Lond. Printed in the year 1672. 16mo. pp.
179. There is a copy in the Library of Harvard University. It was
not published till twenty-seven years after it was first wiitten ; the
original draft being lost at sea on its way to the press. See a good
abstract in the second volume of Hanbury's Memorials.
A Discourse about Civil Government in a New Plantation whose
design is Religion. Cambridge, 1673. Quarto. This is the Tract
erroneously bearing the name of John Cotton on the title-page-
He also published a Latin epistle to John Dury on the Union of
Protestant Churches.
He wrote several Introductories to other men's works : among
^'which his epistle before Scudder's Daily Walk is mentioned as worthy
to be reckoned itself a hook.
His Exposition of the Canticles was just going into the press at
London, when the death of the undertaker of the publication stopped
it. This is to be lamented, because it was prefaced by a life of the

LIFE OF JOHN DAVENPORT. 305
author, drawn up by Increase Mather, which is now lost. Mr. Dav
enport also wrote an unprinted life of John Cotton, which was once
in Governor Hutchinson's hands; but is now lost. Several of his
manuscripts relative to the Synodalian controversy are in the Library
of the American Antiquarian Society at Worcester, Mass.

VOL. II.

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