The Hidden Balance: Religion and the Social Theories of Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew

The hidden balance

The hidden balance Religion and the social theories of Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew

JOHN CORRIGAN University of Virginia

The right of the University of Cambridge to print and sell all manner of books was granted by Henry VIII in 1534. The University has printed and published continuously since 1584.

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS Cambridge New York

New Rochelle Melbourne Sydney

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, Sao Paulo Cambridge University Press The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 2RU, UK Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York www. c ambridge. org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521327770 © Cambridge University Press 1987 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 1987 This digitally printed first paperback version 2006 A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data Corrigan, John, 1952The hidden balance Bibliography: p. 1. Sociology, Christian - Massachusetts - History of doctrines - 18th century. 2. Chauncy, Charles, 1705-1787. 3. Mayhew, Jonathan, 1720-1766. 4. Puritans Massachusetts - History - 18th century. 5. Massachusetts Church history. I. Title. BT738.C694 1987 261'.092'2 86-33386 ISBN-13 978-0-521-32777-0 hardback ISBN-10 0-521-32777-6 hardback ISBN-13 978-0-521 -02671 -0 paperback ISBN-10 0-521-02671-7 paperback

For My Father and My Mother

Contents

Preface Acknowledgments

page ix xiii

Introduction

i

1

The hidden whole

9

2

Religion: a balance of public and private, reason and the affections

20

3 Government: liberty balanced with deference

59

4

86

Society: a balance of stasis and movement

Conclusion: the hidden balance

108

Appendix: status of members of First Church and West Church

114

Notes Bibliography Index

126 151 159

Preface

In 1781, the Tory Peter Oliver indicted the clergy of Massachusetts on the charge of bad manners: The clergy of this Province were, in general, a Set of very weak Men; & it could not be expected that they should be otherwise, as many of them were just relieved, many from the Burthen of the Satchel; and others from hard Labor; & by a Transition from those Occupations to mounting a Desk, from whence they could overlook a principal Part of their Congregations, they, by that mean acquired a supreme Self Importance; which was too apparent in their manners.1 Oliver named Charles Chauncy (1705-87), pastor of First Church in Boston, and Jonathan May hew (1720-66), former pastor of Boston's West Church, as two of the worst offenders. Chauncy "was of a very resentfull, unforgiving Temper; & when he was in the Excess of his Passion, a Bystander would naturally judge that he had been educated in the Purlieus of Bedlam." Mayhew "had too great a Share of Pride for an humble Disciple of so divine a Master, & looked with too contemptuous an Eye on all around him." Such impropriety, claimed Oliver, spilled over into matters of religion: Chauncy made statements that "bordered too near upon Blasphemy," and Mayhew, "in his extempore Pulpit Effusions," proposed ideas "so unharmonious and discordant, that they always grated upon the Ears of his Auditors."2 But even more serious than the charge of bad manners, or of theological incompetence, and most disconcerting to Oliver, was the perception that the two ministers "distinguished theirselves in encouraging Seditions and Riots, until those lesser Offences were absorbed in Rebellion."3 Pride, blasphemy and sedition, the three bones of Oliver's criticism of

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Chauncy and Mayhew, are the themes that have guided subsequent investigations into the lives of the two men. In the nearly century and a half of scholarly interest in Chauncy and Mayhew, three main schools of interpretation have evolved. One group of scholars has focused primarily on the political writings of Chauncy and Mayhew, and has argued that certain sermons of the two men were major contributions toward the formation of the rhetoric of the American Revolution. As Alice Baldwin argued, Chauncy and Mayhew took the ideas of English Whig writers "out of the field of abstraction" and connected them with "the protection of home, church and country."4 Other scholars have opposed this interpretation, claiming that Chauncy and Mayhew were more interested in preserving the status quo than in fomenting rebellion. The most ambitious statement of this position has come from Alan Heimert, who argues that Chauncy and Mayhew were essentially "individualists" who adhered to "a profoundly elitist and conservative ideology" and were committed to a social system based on inequality. According to Heimert, Chauncy and Mayhew preached a political theory "deliberately contrived as justification for restraining the people. "5 A third group of scholars has been concerned with the theological ideas of Chauncy and Mayhew, pointing out that the two ministers were leaders in the move toward "rational religion" in America in the eighteenth century. Most scholars in this group agree with Joseph Haroutunian that Chauncy and Mayhew were not pietists but were moralists, who emphasized the "head" rather than the "heart" in religion.6 Work from all three of these groups has suffered from a shortcoming: Scholars have concentrated either on the sociopolitical theories of the two men or on their theological ideas. No serious effort has been made to consider both aspects of the thinking of Chauncy and Mayhew as interrelated parts of a single vision. Moreover, historians and biographers have made little effort to relate the overall thinking of Chauncy and Mayhew to the complexities of social and political life in Boston in the mid eighteenth century. Surely, scholars have pointed to biographical details as well as to specific historical events as crucial influences in the shaping of Chauncy's and Mayhew's ideas. However, no attempt has been made to analyze the sociopolitical context in such a way as to shed light on the character and direction of each man's thinking as a whole.7 Finally, it seems to me that the best approach to studying Chauncy and Mayhew is to consider the intellectual achievements of these men side by side. Historians traditionally have linked Chauncy and Mayhew because of the agreement in the thinking of the two men on specific points of theology or politics or social theory. Such agreement, however, itself

PREFACE

xi

bespeaks a shared intellectual and social background that in a more profound way connected the lives of these two men. Chauncy wrote that he and Mayhew were "intimate companions."8 Such companionship began as a shared interest in the ideas of Newton and his interpreters. In their studies at Harvard, Chauncy (B.A. 1721, M.A. 1724) and Mayhew (B.A. 1744, M.A. 1747) encountered the philosophical and scientific empiricisms of the emergent Enlightenment, and became hooked, not upon strict empiricism, but upon the project of reconciling the theories of Enlightenment writers with the Puritan world of ideas. Chauncy studied with Thomas Robie, a scientifically minded tutor who was elected a fellow of the Royal Society in 1725. Perry Miller remarked that it was Robie who began in the colonies "the study of modern science, in anything like the professional sense." Having made use of a telescope that Harvard had recently acquired, Robie in 1719 published a scientific report on astronomical phenomena that played down the theological significance of astronomical events and emphasized instead natural explanations.9 Over the years, as Chauncy's theological writing grew more precise and subtle, this scientific perspective ripened in his mind. The marriage of Chauncy's stepdaughter Rebecca Townsend to Hollis Professor John Winthrop in 1746 created for Chauncy further opportunity to cultivate his scientific learning. One direct result of Winthrop's influence upon Chauncy was Earthquakes a Token of the Righteous Anger of God (1755), a

sermon that essentially upheld Winthrop's argument for the natural causes of earthquakes while still connecting such causes to the hand of God. Mayhew also was influenced by Winthrop, both as a student at Harvard and through a lifelong friendship with the professor. Though Mayhew was familiar with Locke and Newton, he was particularly interested in works that blended arguments for Newtonian order with the perspective of religious faith. Such works included Samuel Parker's A Demonstration of the Divine Authority of the Law of Nature, John Ray's The Wisdom of God Manifested in the Works of Creation, and John Woodward's

Natural History of the Earth. In one of Mayhew's commonplace books are long passages copied from Thomas Burnet's Sacred Theory of the Earth, as well as excerpts from Boyle and from the dean of English "supernatural rationalism," Archbishop John Tillotson.10 Reading of this sort was no doubt encouraged by Edward Wigglesworth, a Harvard professor with heretical leanings, from whom Mayhew and Chauncy acquired their graduate training. Wigglesworth, who, above all, had a reputation for intellectual honesty and fairness, was drawn to the religious rationalism of Tillotson, Samuel Clarke, and Daniel Whitby, and his influence upon the direction of both Chauncy's

xii

PREFACE

and Mayhew's thought is apparent. Long after Wigglesworth's passing Chauncy remembered "the extraordinary talent of reasoning" possessed by this "truly great and excellent man," who was "one of the most candid men you ever saw; far removed from bigotry, no ways rigid in his attachment to any scheme, yet steady to his own principles."11 The connections between Chauncy and Mayhew, which began as a similarity of educational background and theological outlook, developed rapidly after Mayhew's graduation from Harvard and his call to West Church in 1747. It is likely that Chauncy engineered his friend's candidacy for the prestigious post, which paid a salary higher than that of any other Boston church. Since Chauncy's own First Church congregation included many of the wealthiest members of Boston society, Mayhew's appointment to West Church ensured that the two men would now move together in the social circles of the Boston elite. Such common experience no doubt contributed substantially to the similarities in their developing views on religion and society. It also apparently helped to connect them in the minds of their eventual detractors and supporters. When one was accused of heresy, the other was usually named a coconspirator, and when one was honored, it was usually not long before the other was given similar recognition. Such was the case not only in Boston, but in England as well: Chauncy was awarded an honorary Doctor of Divinity degree by the faculty of Edinburgh University in 1742, and Mayhew, though he had only just begun to publish his theological views, was awarded the same degree by Aberdeen in 1750. The only other Congregational ministers in the Boston area who held such degrees were Joseph Sewall and, not surprisingly, Edward Wigglesworth. All of these factors that connect Chauncy and Mayhew - education, professional status, public perception, and their personal friendship - do not of themselves justify the plan for this study. However, when Chauncy's and Mayhew's ideas are examined and seen to be so much alike in points of detail as well as in overall character, then such factors become significant, linking the two men together in ways that are more than merely coincidental. Chauncy and Mayhew were neither strict conservatives, as Heimert has claimed, nor as radical thinkers in politics and religion as Baldwin and Haroutunian have claimed. Chauncy and Mayhew occupy a pivotal place in American intellectual life not because they proposed a sterile rationalism born of reaction to the Great Awakening, but because they affirmed the mystery and sacrality of the cosmos in new ways. They emphasized the complexity of social life and the necessity for both head and heart in religion, at a time when most of their contemporaries had all but abandoned the responsibility for such an endeavor.12

Acknowledgments

Reader beware! I have not aimed in this book at uncovering the "origins" - social or intellectual — of the American Revolution. This is a book about religion in its broadest sense, about the expression of a perceived "order of things" that referenced eighteenth-century colonial thinking about God, the cosmos, sin, society, government, and, ironically, the unexplainable. If I have been at all successful in opening a window into the thought of Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew, it is in part because I have drawn considerable benefit and advantage from the written works of numerous other historians, and from the criticisms of teachers and friends. Among previous studies of Chauncy and Mayhew, three books that have been of particular help are the biographies by Charles W. Akers (Mayhew), Edward M. Griffin (Chauncy), and Charles H. Lippy (Chauncy). To my "doctor-father," Jerald C. Brauer, I am indebted for his encouragement at the beginning of this project, his guidance throughout, and his keen editor's eye at the end, and for the continuing support and prodding that only an unusually gifted teacher can provide. I thank Martin E. Marty, Edward M. Cook, Jr., John M. Kloos, and James F. Childress for their reading of the manuscript and for the thoughtful suggestions they made. Myrtis Meyer and the late Victor W. Turner, who helped me to clarify my thinking on several points of analysis, have saved me from some of my more obvious and embarrassing mistakes. To the staffs of the following libraries I am particularly grateful: Henry E. Huntington Library, San Marino, Calif; Houghton Library, Harvard; Mugar Library, Boston University; Newberry Library, Chicago; New York Public Library; Regenstein Library, University of Chicago; Alderman Library, University of Virginia.

xiv

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am grateful to Jane Van Tassel for her fine editing of the manuscript. Gail Moore, Dan Smith and Chris Cherry typed the manuscript with care and cheer. My best critic, Sheila Curran, many times has rescued this prose from opacity and its author from the frustrations, large and small, that come with writing a book. CharlottesvMe, Virginia

JC

Introduction

In the middle of the eighteenth century, Americans reinvented the porch. Sometime between 1745 and 1755, they focused their attention on the doorways of their homes and businesses and began to ornament and enlarge them.1 Doorways were framed with delicate woodworking and elaborate, time-consuming carpentry. Doorway facades became works of art. Low-relief columns, pilasters, moldings, festoons, and richly ornamented transoms appeared over and around the threshold. Classical columns, extended roofs, wooden railings of every sort, and smooth stone steps were added to building entrances. Colonial builders, in fact, spent a disproportionate amount of time crafting the doorway. Architecture critic Joseph Jackson, commenting on the sudden and intense interest in doorways in New England, wrote: "Here again, proportion seems to have been forgotten, for many of the doorways and doors are excellent in themselves, but they are appended to houses that are unfitted for them by design and general character."2 Colonists were suddenly fascinated with the threshold of a building. The porch that drew attention to this threshold was not inside the house, nor could it properly be said to stand outside the house. It was, in a sense, "in-between."3 Moreover, it may have been precisely the expression of this in-betweenness that appealed to colonial builders of this period, for the world in which they lived at mid century was itself a world in between. In religious, political, and socioeconomic aspects of colonial life, new ideas and events were challenging the old ways and traditions. For many Americans, traditional ways of understanding their place in the cosmos were no longer satisfying. Moreover, new understandings that were emerging were sometimes too radical a replacement. Gordon Wood has described America at mid century as "a society in conflict with itself."4 Michael Kammen has stressed "the bifarious nature

2

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

of colonial society" and pointed to the many "contradictory tendencies" in colonial America.5 In this society, which was "so contradictory in its nature that it left contemporaries puzzled and later historians divided," some persons were caught in the middle, trying both to retain the old and to accept the new.6 Like the porch that is neither inside nor outside the house, these persons were neither strict traditionalists nor bold prophets. They were, simply, in between. In religion, the Great Awakening suddenly burst over the lives of Americans and demonstrated the power of religious enthusiasm. Beginning in the middle colonies under the leadership of Theodore Frelinghuysen in the 1720s, the revival arrived in earnest with the preaching of George Whitefield and the theology of Jonathan Edwards in the late 173 os and early 1740s. In place of the carefully developed Puritan sermon that moved from a text to its explanation to an application, revivalist preachers addressed their crowds in desperately emotional language. In place of the Puritan "lesson," evangelists such as Whitefield, Gilbert Tennent, and James Davenport stressed, in clear and simple terms, the sinful condition of humanity and the necessity for regeneration and, especially, the importance of a person's "inner experience." With the new emphasis on a sudden conversion experience as the primary point of reference for one's salvation, the concepts of a holy commonwealth and covenantal community were diminished in importance.7 But these concepts were not entirely overthrown by the new emphasis on the individual. Indeed, in many ways the revival was intensely communitarian. Jonathan Edwards, the most articulate spokesman for the revival, wrote at length about the new order that would blossom as more people were converted. It will be a time of excellent order in the church of Christ. The true government and discipline of the church will then be settled and put into practice. All the world shall then be as one church, one orderly, regular, beautiful society. And as the body shall be one, so the members shall be in beautiful proportion to each other.8 But neither Edwards nor his revivalist brethren were able to explain the practical manner in which the new order of the regenerate was to function. They instead proposed that Christian virtue, faithfully practiced by converted individuals, would almost mystically lead to a social order that was family-like in character. In short, supporters of the revival, in their thinking about the relationship between the individual and the Christian society, found themselves stressing both the essential primacy of individual experience and the indistinguishability of the individual from the social body. Like the revivalists, the opponents of the Awakening were caught

INTRODUCTION

3

between two seemingly irreconcilable understandings about the place of the individual in society. But they differed considerably from the revivalists in that they adopted reason as a key component of their religion. Works of Enlightenment writers had been standard fare at Harvard from the early eighteenth century, and some colonial ministers had been leaning toward "rational religion" for almost as long. In the years leading up to the Awakening the notion of the perfectibility of the individual through the cultivation of implanted faculties (chiefly reason) - began to make its way into colonial theological discourse. By the 1740-50s some of the nonrevivalist clergy were consequently stressing the legitimacy and authority of personal experience, though, obviously, for somewhat different reasons than their revivalist opponents. But it became clear during the Great Awakening that the opponents of the revival were also the effective heirs of what remained of the seventeenth-century Puritan vision of the holy commonwealth. In particular, they held to the idea that an elite, educated clergy was responsible for presenting to church congregations a clear understanding of the gospel, and for explaining how the moral individual ought to conduct himself or herself in social life. They were particularly concerned with the moral action of the individual in society as a key ingredient for salvation. Liberals such as Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew, then, were left to explain, first, how reason was related to the affections, and, secondly, how "private judgment" was to coexist with a society guided by elite authority. In mid-eighteenth-century political ideology, a body of ideas that had developed around the concepts of liberty and authority evidenced antagonisms similar to those found in religion between personal piety and morality. Even before the Awakening, colonists were beginning to perceive in English radical Whig theories of government an appropriate commentary on their own predicament in America. Especially in the wake of Locke's treatises on social contract and natural rights, a keen critical interest arose about the nature of the relationship between the ruler and the ruled. In their own letters and essays, Americans cited Shaftesbury and Locke, Bolingbroke, Montesquieu, and Beccaria. And perhaps most widely read of all were the libertarian, less dense, more readable writings ofJohn Trenchard and Thomas Gordon, who together edited the Independent Whig, a London weekly in the early eighteenth century, and later penned Cato's Letters, a work deeply critical of English politics and society. Broadly considered, the political commentary to which colonists were attracted belonged to the Opposition tradition, or English country ideology.9 At its center was a loyalty to and trust in the English constitution, but this was offset by a deep pessimism about the possibilities for trans-

4

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

lating English constitutional principles into actual social policies. The "country" intellectuals - those persons alienated from the center of English political power - believed that the system of checks and balances in parliament between Crown, peers, and Commons had been corrupted by propertied interests and that parliament no longer functioned homeostatically to guard against tyranny. Generally speaking, Whigs believed that the Crown - by devious plottings, bargainings and conspiracies had undermined the free and open debate that was considered essential to the spirit of the constitution. Influenced by Opposition writers who stressed the importance of individual liberty, but still conditioned in their thinking to a deferential response to status and power, colonists faced difficult decisions in the face of tax and trade controversies with England.10 From the late 1750s through the early 1770s, Americans found themselves stuck between two horns of a political dilemma, between the perceived necessity for social authority and the desire for individual liberty. More specifically, Americans proclaimed their allegiance to the principles of the English constitution, but rejected certain of the policies of an English government that claimed to be founded on constitutional principles.11 Ultimately, ideological as well as socioeconomic concerns would provide logic and spark for the American Revolution. But in the 1760s a clear sense of direction, and even a solid grasp of the problem, was lacking for most Americans. Indeed, John Shy has suggested that a majority of the colonial population remained confused and indecisive about governmental powers and limits until the war actually entered their towns, or their homes.12 Conflicts that complicated thinking about liberty and authority, and about the individual and society, emerged in connection with socioeconomic aspects of colonial life as well. One issue that proved particularly problematic was the matter of the nature of the relation between social status and vertical mobility. Social status in the colonies was established on a variety of contributing factors, but public officeholding and property ownership were especially important considerations. The link betweeen status and property brought with it a set of problems that were not easily settled. Jackson Turner Main has written: "Among all the factors which created social distinctions, property was the most important."13 Since there were times between 1750 and 1770 when economic conditions in the colonies provided opportunity for making a quick profit and acquiring valuable property, many persons in the mid eighteenth century did, indeed, raise their status considerably. Main points out that of the sixty richest men on the 1771 Massachusetts tax roll, between 40 and 50 per-

INTRODUCTION

5

cent were nouveaux riches and one-third were self-made men.14 It is clear, however, that in a system that correlated wealth with high social status, this high rate of entry into the elite tended to bring into question the legitimacy and substantiality of the status order of society. Most historians point out that Americans at mid century had internalized a deferential attitude toward property.15 But deference was based on the assumption of a static social order, whereas mobility, of course, demonstrated motion in the system. The latter fact was impressed upon Bostonians, in particular, in the turbulent years between 1750 and 1770, when fortunes were made and lost often in a matter of only a few years. Edward Pessen has commented: "Social mobility involves two elements: motion and position. Werner Heisenberg suggested in studying the electron that perfect knowledge of one is irreconcilable with exact knowledge of the other."16 In colonial Boston, rich and poor alike were faced with the problem of conceptualizing how persons could be of a certain fixed status level (position), but nevertheless be moving from level to level at the same time (motion). That is, they believed that there was an established social order made up of distinct superiors and inferiors, but that there was a general equality of opportunity for advancement as well, and that persons were advancing (or, in some cases, plummeting). Reconciling these beliefs was tricky business, especially for the nouveaux riches. It was hard to justify one's social superiority and at the same time affirm that a kind of general equality had made that superiority possible in the first place. These tensions in three areas of colonial life in this period - in religion, political ideology, and the socioeconomic order - were, generally, quite similar in nature, and can be organized by theme into three categories. First, the period is characterized by the challenge of new ideas to traditional ways of life. The most important traditions were (1) in religion, the role and authority of an elite clergy; (2) in politics, the practice of deference; and (3) in the social order, acceptance of a fixed hierarchy of classes. New ideas and forces took the forms of rationalism/affectional religion, egalitarianism, and mobility, respectively. Secondly, the nature of the conflicts in all cases began with an upgraded view of the place and function of the individual in relation to society. Private judgment, selfgovernment, and personal economic advancement challenged the social institutions of church and government and the socioeconomic order as a whole. Thirdly, in all three areas, concern for virtue or "merit" formed a predominant theme. Outside of the Awakening, a major concern of the religious literature centered on the theme of the ability or inability of persons to reach perfection by virtue faithfully practiced. Political discussion was organized around the matter of the connection of merit with

6

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

political office. In the economy of colonial America, hard work and perseverance were explicitly connected with movement into the higher ranks of society. In summary, colonial life at this time might be pictured in general as a contest between (i) new ideas about and evidences of personal virtue and effort and (2) traditional social institutions grounded in an essentially elitist view of society, skeptical of human capability. In the years between the Awakening and the Revolution, Chauncy and Mayhew struggled to fashion elements drawn from each side of the conflict into coherent statements about God, man, and the world. Such statements were often imaginative and bold. Though conservative in many of their ideas, neither Chauncy nor Mayhew was a narrowminded conformist. Events of their personal lives, as well as their writings, suggest a streak of experimentalism mixed in with their generally more sober casts of character. Chauncy, for example, was fined and demoted in rank at Harvard for card playing and other offenses, and later, at the ripe age of eighty-one, he proposed marriage to a widow of forty, to whom he had been "paying his addresses."17 Chauncy's friends were amused and delighted, but the woman refused him. Though from a family "respectable in all its stages," Mayhew likewise ran aground in college: As an undergraduate, he was regularly fined for a variety of offenses, including illegal drinking. In 1744 he was degraded in class rank for the tone of disrespect he took in defending the actions of some of his fellow seniors: "In a very imprudent manner [he] made an impertinent recrimination upon some of the immediate Governors of the House they all being present."18 Of course, by the 1750s both Chauncy and Mayhew had earned themselves reputations as theological heretics in England and America. Mayhew preached supernatural rationalism and individualism, and to these Chauncy added universalism. Both men were accused of Arminianism, Arianism, blasphemy, and a host of other offenses, both real and imagined. In addition to their theological boldness, the two pastors emerged as political figures in Boston in the years leading up to the American Revolution. Robert Treat Paine, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, called Mayhew "the father of civil and religious liberty in Massachusetts and America."19John Adams, who wrote that twelve volumes could be written on Mayhew's "transcendent genius," gave the following advice: "If the orators on the fourth ofJuly really wish to investigate the principles and feelings which produced the Revolution, they ought to study . . . Dr. Mayhew's sermon on passive obedience and nonresistance."20 Charles Chauncy was equally well known in Boston as a "fomenter of

INTRODUCTION

7

prejudice" against the Crown. Adams considered him, along with Mayhew, to be one of the "illustrious agents" of the Revolution.21 An advertisement in the Boston Evening Post (September 19, 1774) addressed to "The Officers and Soldiers of His Majesty's Troops in Boston" included Chauncy in the company of prominent Boston rebels. It being more than probable that the King's standard will soon be erected, from rebellion breaking out in this province, it is proper that you soldiers should be acquainted with the authors' thereof and of all the Misfortunes brought upon the province, the following is a list of them, viz. Mess Samuel Adams, James Bowdoin, Dr. Thomas Young, Dr. Benjamin Church, Capt. John Bradford, Josiah Quincy, Major Nathaniel Barber, William Mollineaux, John Hancock, Wm. Cooper, Dr. Chauncy, Dr. Cooper, Thomas Cushing, Joseph Greenleaf, and William Downing - the friends of your King and Country, and of America, hope and expect it from you soldiers, the instant rebellion happens, that you will put the above persons immediately to the sword, destroy their houses, plunder their effects; it is just that they should be the first victims to the mischiefs they have br't upon us. A letter to Gr. Brit. & America N.B. Don't forget those trumpeters of sedition, the printers Edes and Gill, and Thomas. Chauncy and Mayhew were neither radically progressive nor strictly conservative. Like the society around them that was in between, so also was their thinking in between. Their understanding of the cosmos was based on two key principles: wholeness and balance. Such an understanding was drawn in part from their experience of the forces that made mid-eighteenth-century America a society in transition. But such an understanding was rooted as well in the fact that Chauncy and Mayhew were religious thinkers and pastors, actively engaged in the project of articulating to their congregations a coherent religious vision of the cosmos. Their writings accord an important place to human intuition, to that part of a person's makeup that, as Henri Bergson claimed, "may enable us to grasp what it is that intelligence fails to give us, and indicate the means for supplementing it."22 A fundamental component of the religious worldview, intuition plays a key role in the integration of ideas.23 Chauncy and Mayhew endeavored to provide to their congregations a coherent picture of the cosmos, to present, as clearly as possible, an understanding of the divine creation, of the nature and function of society as part of that creation, and of the role of the individual as a spiritual

8

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

and social creature. Their thinking about society did not exist apart from their thinking about the cosmos as a whole. Their social theory was not simply an expression of the desire to protect class interests, nor was it strictly devotion to abstract Enlightenment principles of government and social order. It was but one aspect of a religious standpoint which they were busy fashioning in the aftermath of the Great Awakening, and which they shaped by drawing on the theories of their Puritan forebears, on Enlightenment ideas, and on their own social experiences in colonial Boston.

Chapter 1

The hidden whole

In spite of the fact that life at mid century was filled with divisions and dichotomies, Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew believed that the harmony of all reality was the enduring plan of God, and they preached this message continuously from their pulpits. In a discourse occasioned by the earthquakes of 1755, Mayhew thus offered to his congregation the following dictum: "There is a harmony and uniformity of design visible in the works of nature and providence, which shows that all originally proceeds from, and is governed by, ONE."1 In Two Sermons on the Nature, Extent and Perfection of Divine Goodness (1763), he likewise applauded "the

structure, the admirable order and adjustment of the various parts, nothing superfluous, nothing wanting, from whence results the harmony and beauty of the whole. " 2 In another sermon, taking up the matter of the destruction of the world as predicted in The Revelation to John, Mayhew held that the interdependencies among all that exists dictated that the destruction of the earth would be accompanied by the destruction of all else: "It appears to me most probable that the apostle intends this whole system, inclusive of the sun and the planetary regions, as well as this habitable world, with all its furniture," to be destroyed.3 In many sermons written in the 1750s and 1760s, Mayhew expressed himself on the coherence and uniformity of nature. All creation was under "the Law of Nature, which cannot be repealed by God himself."4 There were no "accidents" in nature: God had created the cosmos according to definite rules of order and design.5 In this design, wrote Mayhew, "there is a subordination one thing to another; and a vast apparent variety among them; but there is also a connection and dependence of one with and upon, another; and all tend to the same point at last."6 Events occurred in the world for a reason, in accordance with natural

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laws: "Things come to pass according to the established course of nature, and the settled order of things."7 Even "storms, tempests, drought, pestilence, earthquakes, and some other phenomena in the natural world" are actually for the good. They "proceed from such general laws of nature, as are upon the whole most wise, good, excellent, and which could not, probably, be broken in upon, or suspended in their operations, without great detriment, perhaps destruction of the world." 8 Human apprehension of this great harmonious design (alongside revelation) points to the presence of a wise governing spirit behind it: "The light of nature shows the world to be under a moral government and Governor."9 This "supreme governor of the world" is the first cause behind all the "secondary causes" that are observable in nature. 10 Mayhew held that humans, animals, the earth, the stars, "all of these subordinate agents, in all their operations, are under the controul and dominion of the Almighty."11 The universe is a cohesive whole, but only one force can move the natural world: There are no powers in what we call natural, secondary causes, but what one, to say the least, originally derived from the first; and no real agency in any that are wholly material. Activity or agency, properly speaking, belongs only to the mind or spirit; and all those powers and operations which in common language are ascribed to natural bodies, are really effects and operations of the supreme original cause.12 Mayhew thus asks this rhetorical question about the sun and the moon: "Who makes them know their proper places and distances, so as not to jostle and wrack world on world? Whose hand constantly maintains their order?"13 Of course it is God who has made the heavenly bodies "know their proper places." What is important for Mayhew is that God, as first cause behind the operations of the natural world, has arranged all things so that they do not come into conflict with each other, so that planets do not "wrack world on world" and the lives of men and women are not left to chance. Mayhew told a Thanksgiving Day meeting that "this world is under the government, not of blind chance, or fate, or men, or good, or evil spirits; but that of the eternal, infinite, and omnipresent Spirit, to whom it owes its existence."14 All that happens in this world is according to the plan of God, and for his pleasure: It is God's world; He upholds, he rules, he controuls it, and in some way or another, perhaps inconceivable by us, actually orders and determines the events of it; and that with such precision that neither a "sparrow falls to the ground, nor a lot is cast into the lap" without him. All subordinate beings and agents, who are con-

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cerned in bringing about any events, any changes or revolutions in this lower world, whether prosperous or adverse to us, are his agents, his instruments, all "fulfilling his pleasure." He is therefore to be acknowledged as the supreme, infinite cause of all these events.15 For Mayhew, "God governs the world."16 Nothing happens that is not "ordered" by him.17 Because of the "universal government and providence of God," no "events come to pass contrary to, or beside his design, or without, and independently of him."18 Addressing his congregation after the great Boston fire of 1760, Mayhew claimed that the terrible losses were not arbitrary, but part of God's plan: "God is the author of all these calamities and sufferings, which at any time befall a city, or a community. They are not to be looked upon as the effect of chance, or accident; which are but empty names; but as proceeding ultimately from him, the supreme governor of the world."19 The fire was not to be understood as a random tragedy, but as a result of the active will of God. Mayhew pointed out that "the Scriptures do not speak of God as an unconcerned, or inactive spectatore, of any events; but as the author of them."20 In a discourse on a day of thanksgiving for the success of military operations in Canada, Mayhew similarly pointed out that success, like tragedy, always comes from God, that there is "no success in war, but what is ultimately to be resolved in the holy will, the active influence, or providential government of God."21 Good or bad, "all things and events," wrote Mayhew, whether natural or preternatural, are under one supreme, uniform DIRECTION unless there is either no God, or more than one. The consequence of which is, that even natural effects and events, are to be traced up to this supreme, original cause of all things, whose counsel and providence govern the world.22 The origin of all events in God's will, the purposefulness of nature, and the harmony and coherence of the universe are themes that in one form or another emerge in nearly all of Mayhew's writings. Mayhew was confident that there was an order and direction to creation, overseen by the "great Author, Upholder and Governor of the Universe," who "moves and directs this amazing and stupendous whole."23 But this confidence was not always based on simple observation. Just as the people of Boston must have wished for some visible proof that the great fire of 1760 was a part of God's plan and not a purposeless accident, so too did Mayhew sometimes allow that creation's design was invisible to human eyes. In fact, while affirming the plan and order of the universe, Mayhew generally conceded that such order is not fully comprehensible, but is hidden from human understanding. Mayhew thus

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states that God's works are so "marvellous" that "we cannot penetrate into, or fully comprehend, them, by reason of the narrowness of our faculties. . . . And it is but a little way that we can see into the nature and causes and reasons of things." 24 In The Expected Dissolution of All Things

(1755) Mayhew claimed that, in fact, human perception of God's design was an absurd expectation: "It were infinitely absurd to imagine, that creatures of such very limited capacities as mankind, should be able to fully comprehend the immense designs and works of an infinite being."25 But invisibility of parts of the divine plan did in no way detract from it. Mayhew's faith in the coherence of reality remained firm, and he argued in various discourses that just as natural science is often slow to work out the mechanics of motion or a general theory of earthquakes, so too are men and women at first often unable to see clearly the "cosmic" order as it unfolds in their lives. Mayhew wrote in 1755: There is indeed such a thing as natural philosophy, which is of good use both to the purposes of life and godliness; and which, therefore, well deserves to be cultivated. However, the whole of what goes by that name, seems to be no more than the observing of facts, their succession and order; and reducing them to a settled course and series of events, called the laws of nature, from their steadiness and constancy. . . . But after all the improvements that have been made herein, how many things are there in the natural world, which never have been, and perhaps never will be reduced to any such general analogy, or the common laws of nature. How many phaenomina are there, which we may call the irregulars, the anomalies, and heteroclites in the grammar . . . ?26

Mayhew asked if the "laws" of earthquakes, comets, tempests and other such natural phenomena were "ever plainly discovered? I mean so that they could be methodically calculated, foretold and accounted for" like tides and eclipses.27 Though no one has yet discovered such laws, wrote Mayhew, there can be no question that such laws exist, ordering these events just as the time of an eclipse can be calculated according to certain rules. The "irregulars" and "anomalies" are only events for which the governing laws have not yet been discovered, not events that have no order or reason. Undiscovered, the laws governing unusual circumstances in nature nevertheless exist in the harmonious system of things that is the universe. Mayhew concluded: "For there is doubtless an regular an order and connection of these facts and effects, in nature, whether actually seen or known by us or not. . . . But this connection and order is, as yet, too recondite and hidden for human penetration."28 Even if the whole spectrum of immediate causes of natural events were to be determined, there would still remain, argued Mayhew, the matter

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of "general" laws, which, though uniform and coherent, may themselves be ultimately impenetrable. If all the works of God "could be brought to a common analogy, and methodically arranged under certain known laws . . . our knowledge would still be very imperfect. . . . For it is to be remembered, that these general laws, by which we think to account for all other things, are themselves mysterious and inexplicable."29 An example of such a general law is the law of gravity. Though its effects are everywhere observable and predictable, "who, I say, can, without the utmost vanity and presumption pretend to a thorough understanding of this law? especially after a NEWTON has confessed his ignorance of it."30 Mayhew enlarged the lesson with a further example: "We can no more penetrate into the true reason why a spark of fire, rather than a drop of water, should cause an explosion when dropped on powder; than we can tell why a stone, left to itself in the air should fall, rather than ascend. "31 In matters such as this, as in so many aspects of life, the "real cause" is "quite hidden from mortal sight."32 The impenetrability of general laws, and the fact that certain secondary or tertiary laws have not yet been discovered, makes no difference in understanding the cosmos as a perfectly ordered system. The manner in which certain events come about, or various phenomena combine to produce a certain effect, or the circumstances of nations are altered in the course of history, whether fully understood or not, reflects for Mayhew both the harmony and the wonder of creation: "The whole world is one great wonder and mystery."33 The world is both "one" and "mysterious." One can be assured that what is not readily understandable is as much a part of the divine plan as those things that are plain to human sight, because all things are connected as if in a "golden chain." The "circumstances and events" of life "must be ascribed at last to that divine providence which superintends and overrules all things. It is, in short, like the fabulous golden chain of the poets, hung down from heaven to earth; the upper end whereof is far above mortal reach and sight, and there fastened to the throne of God."34 It should not be supposed that the golden chain that connects everything in creation represents only the interdependencies of phenomena in the natural, material world. For Mayhew, all aspects of creation fit together, and he is quick to point out that moral and civil government are as much a part of the ordered whole as the seasons, earthquakes, or gravity. Indeed, the interplay of natural, moral, and civil government is part of the divine plan. In another earthquake-inspired writing published in 1760, Mayhew observed: If we may judge by analogy, or reason, from what has heretofore been, to what shall be hereafter, we may probably conclude, that

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these great commotions in the natural world will usher in some great revolutions in the moral world, and in the state of those nations and countries where they happened. There usually has been, and probably will be, a kind of agreement, or some correspondence, between the natural, the civil, and the moral world; So that events in the former may, it is humbly conceived, without any tincture of superstition or enthusiasm, be considered as prognostications and forerunners of some commotions, equally uncommon and surprising in the latter.35 All three worlds - natural, moral, and civil - are under the same providential government of God. Therefore, they share a sort of common denominator of order, and share as well the "hiddenness" of certain aspects of their operations. In a discourse in 1759 Mayhew suggested that "the moral perfections which we usually ascribe to God, seem to have a connexion with those natural ones, which must necessarily belong to the original cause of all things."36 In his notes for another sermon he likewise affirmed that "even civil government is the appointment of God and Providence," and "human government . . . is plainly . . . a part or branch of his more general government over the world."37 All parts of God's government move in unison, in the same direction, toward the same ends: "As the natural and moral world are under one and the same common direction or government, so God's end in all things, however various and diverse, is really one and uniform."38 But, again, this uniformity of direction may be unclear to human witnesses. In a passage wherein the natural and moral worlds are compared, Mayhew admitted that "we cannot see into all the connections and dependencies of things and events in the moral world, so as to give a clear account and solution of them. Difficulties and objections will remain . . . after puzzled theology has done its best."39 In short, the order of the natural, moral, and civil worlds - the cosmos as a whole for Mayhew - is assuredly unchangeable and uniform. Events occur according to principles that God has established to order them. Nevertheless, sometimes persons cannot see God's order in events or circumstances of their lives. For Mayhew, this means only that the order is "hidden" in such cases. The human view, being narrow, cannot appreciate the complexities and dependencies of God's design. No matter how random an event might appear - fire loss, earthquake, or even startling military victory - its place in the cosmic scheme of things can never be denied. In some cases, the purpose of such an event may never be satisfactorily determined, but in other cases, a conscientious application of a reasonable method of investigation, guided by Enlightenment faith in the unity of creation, may provide clues about the operations of natural, moral, and civil government.

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Charles Chauncy, like Jonathan Mayhew, was no stranger to the circles in which Enlightenment ideas about order - heavenly and civil were becoming popular. Like Mayhew, Chauncy believed in the "order of nature,"40 and his writings are filled with references to the unity and uniformity that are to be observed in nature, to "the harmonies and fitnesses we see in the works of nature. "41 Beginning with his responses to the Great Awakening, Seasonable Thoughts on the State of Religion in New England (1743) and Enthusiasm Describ'd and Caution 'd Against (1742),

Chauncy set his arguments ever more solidly in a framework that assumed a coherence and uniformity in creation. As his thinking matured, his expression of this belief in "harmonies and fitnesses" became more explicit. By the time of Twelve Sermons (1765), his major statement on faith and justification, he was commonly referring to a "harmonious, wisely subordinated order" that was "unitedly operating."42 This "universal system of things"43 that Chauncy admired was, indeed, universal for him. Just as the events of the natural world - tides, earthquakes, the motion of the planets in the solar system - were governed by certain fixed principles, so was human life ordered. Persons "are brought into existence according to a settled uniform course of nature" and "their existence is upheld by stated laws."44 A crucial aspect of those laws was the "connections" they made between phenomena in the universe. All events contributed toward some plan, some single direction in which creation was moving. Chauncy could thus confidently refer to "the connection of the universe in its various parts, their mutual dependence on, and subordination to, each other."45 This notion of the arrangement of the parts of the universe into an order characterized by mutual dependence was the fundamental element of Chauncy's cosmology, just as it was of Mayhew's. Both men believed that there was a wholeness to creation, made possible by the perfect interrelation of all the component parts, as Chauncy noted: "This system could, in no other way, have been constituted so full and coherent a whole" Even phenomena seemingly opposed to one another ought, finally, to be "all considered as parts of some GREAT WHOLE, severally concurring to make one universal, gloriously connected system. "46 And in this system, the visible, human world was itself only a small part of the grand design of creation: "This world of ours ought to be considered as only a part of some great whole. " 47

Just as the human world was only a part of the interconnected whole of the universe, so was the natural world but one aspect of the whole. The moral world and the civil world were aspects of creation that fitted together with the natural world, under the same laws, in a system of dependencies that ensured order and common direction. There is "an analogy between the bodily, and mental faculty, of seeing," Chauncy wrote in 1765. In a later work he made the same explicit connection that

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his friend at West Church had made: "The analogy here, it may be worthy of notice, is very exact between the natural and the moral world."48 Just as God had provided for order in the natural world, so had he fashioned the moral world and the civil world49 as perfect systems. Religion, the guardian of morals, was a coherent body of truths. In An Unbridled Tongue (1741), Chauncy declared that "there is a glorious harmony between all the truths, and all the duties of religion. "50 Twentyfive years later, he was just as certain in this belief: "Perfect harmony subsists between all divinely revealed truths."51 There was a perfect relation between faith and grace, Chauncy wrote, "a most beautiful and harmonious agreement in their respective operations," and there was a perfect relation between faith and works, which, as Chauncy pointed out, was not "a meer Arbitrary thing, but plainly founded in the Wisdom of the divine Government. " 5 2

All things were founded in "the providential government of God." Chauncy stressed that God was "infinite in the perfections of his nature"53 and concluded that God's creation was thus also perfect. But, like Mayhew, Chauncy also held that God did not simply allow creation to unfold in a mechanical or impersonal manner, but that God had, somehow, an active role in events as well. In Marvellous Things (1745) Chauncy argued that God "presides over the Kingdoms of this lower world, governing all their Affairs," and that in certain situations "He will order such a concurrence of Circumstances" as to bring about certain events in the course of history.54 Indeed, in Trust in God (1770) Chauncy wrote: No devices of men, whether high or low, can take effect in contradiction of his alwise pleasure. . . . In short, all the wisdom and the power of heaven and earth, of all angels and all men, are under the government of God. . . . Yea, he could invert the course of nature, stop the sun in its course, commission the stars to sight, and interpose by stupendous signs in heaven, and wonders on earth. . . . He can with infinite ease, in opposition to earth and hell, defend and save those that make him their strength and hope.55 Divine interposition such as this in no way constituted an intrusion into the perfect order of creation, however. When God acts, "He does it ordinarily by the intervention of second Causes."56 To say that God could stop the sun in its course does not mean that God might subvert cosmic order. The perfect order of creation will endure behind all of the events and circumstances of life. When Chauncy writes that God might intervene in nature, he means that God's hand is active on the level of "second causes": "All nature is at his command, all second causes whether physical or moral."57 When Chauncy refers to God's actions, to "the govern-

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ing wisdom of that providence which extends over all human affairs," he is referring to the way in which God "brings creatures into existence, and makes them happy, by the intervention ofsecond causes, operating under his direction and influence, in a stated, regular, uniform manner."58

In Earthquakes a Token Chauncy made his strongest statement on the manner in which God intervenes through secondary causes while still in no way betraying the laws of nature and the order of creation. For the most part, "the great God makes use of second Causes in the production of earthquakes; exerting his power, not immediately, but by concurring with these Causes."59 God draws upon the interdependencies in creation to achieve his ends. An earthquake arises from a combination of second causes set in motion — according to certain regular laws - by the will of God, the "first cause": "We have no reason to think, but that it takes rise from sufficient second Causes, in common with other phaenomena of nature: Only these causes must always be considered as having the first Cause of all things for their director and Governor."60 In short, the active will of God is always in harmony with the uniformity of the universe, because it was God who created the universe. 'Twas he who first established the laws of nature, giving to all second causes their respective powers of operation, and assigning them to their several spheres of acting - Tis he who upholds them in all being and operation; for by him do all things consist - Tis he who concurs with them in their influence. . . . Tis he who directs and governs all their motions and springs of action.61 But Chauncy, for all of his determination to explain the relation of first cause to second causes, and to reconcile faith in the uniformity of creation with seemingly arbitrary natural catastrophes, concluded, as did Mayhew, that the connections between phenomena are often hidden from human understanding. Like Mayhew, Chauncy declared that the "irregularities" of the universe - those phenomena that did not seem to fit with the cosmic order were not irregularities at all. Certain things merely appeared irregular to the narrow, imperfect human mind. Chauncy explained that "we are too short-sighted to trace any irregularities, in the present state, through all their connections, either here or hereafter; and therefore cannot pretend to affirm, with any degree of probability, that they may not finally turn out as proof of the wisdom of creation "rather than an objection against it."62 Chauncy affirmed that the multitude of connections in nature "so clearly point out design, notwithstanding the obscurity in certain instances," that we should assume that harmonies exist even behind the obscurities of creation. Chauncy stated that "these harmonies and fit-

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nesses have never yet been certainly and precisely made out in all instances. In some, far from being made particularly and distinctly to appear, they are attended with difficulty; yea, with seeming incongruity."63 Nevertheless, all of creation is in harmony, even if none but God can appreciate it. Parts of creation may seem incongruous at times because of "the imperfections of our faculties, and incapacity therefrom, to view the works of God as connected with and dependent on, each other, in the divine plan of operation. No eye but God's can take in the whole scheme of creation and providence. "64 God can "take in connections and dependencies, vastly transcending the most enlarged conceptions of such imperfect creatures as we are. "65 The universe is perfectly ordered and coherent, even if that coherence can only be appreciated by "God, whose understanding is infinite, and who perfectly sees all possible connections of ideas."66 Finally, Chauncy advised his congregation to rest in the assurance that God had created an orderly universe, even if that was not always clear from everyday experience. Where "irregularities" seemed to suggest a universe based on chance, where worldly events undermined faith in the wisdom of creation - and perhaps, therefore, of creation's author persons should move beyond rational analysis of the natural world to a contemplation of God's perfection. Chauncy exhorted his congregation: "Seriously carry your thoughts beyond all second Causes, and fix your eye on God as the supreme author. "67 The lesson of Trust in God was that the seeming purposelessness of an event should not affect one's trust in God: "Let us make God the ultimate object of our dependence; looking above all second causes."68 In short, Chauncy proposed that the perfection of God ought never to be brought into question by human inability to see connections in creation. In times of confusion it is best to "keep more closely to the Scripture, and pay less regard to metaphysical niceties."69 Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew believed that there was a coherence and purpose to creation. This belief provided a framework for their statements about God, nature, morals, government, and social order. The two pastors consistently emphasized that a divine plan assured the interdependence and cooperation offerees and events in the universe, even if that plan was not always clear to human understanding. Most important, each of the infinitely numerous parts of the universe was "connected" to every other part, and together these parts formed a perfect whole. Sometimes the connections were obscure, and in such cases Chauncy and Mayhew urged their congregations to look beyond the "second causes" to the wisdom of God as revealed in scripture. Both men assumed that a consideration of God's attributes would help overcome the confusion one might feel when faced with the experience of seeming incompatibilities in nature.

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Sometimes, however, the connections could be made more clearly. Indeed, sometimes better articulation was necessary: The natures of the relationships between good and evil, between faith and works, between individual initiative and ministerial authority, and between reason and the affections were matters of critical importance in the years after the Awakening. Coherent statements on such matters were necessary, at the very least, as a response to certain extremist viewpoints, such as those of the itinerant evangelist James Davenport. In instructing the congregations of First Church and West Church on these issues, Chauncy and Mayhew settled on a form of theological statement that sought to bring together seemingly opposite elements in dialectical tension. In his way, each pastor safeguarded the concept of wholeness that lay at the core of his religious ideas, but clarified its meaning to allow for a more fruitful application to the theological issues of the day. "Unity" was the fundamental principle of the cosmic order, and dialectic, or "balance," was the process by which diverse phenomena were coherently interrelated in the whole.

Chapter 2

Religion: a balance of public and private, reason and the affections

Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew saw coherence and order in the "great whole" of the cosmos, and such vision guided their thinking when they set out to fashion statements on points of religious doctrine. By building on the notion of wholeness, by conceiving of it as the dialectical relation of seeming opposites, both men were able to apply it effectively in treating certain theological problems. This approach eventually produced a complex and sophisticated body of ideas, and it was Chauncy's and Mayhew's inventive use of language that helped to transmit these ideas to the congregations of their Boston churches. George Lakoff and Mark Johnson have recently argued that "our ordinary conceptual system, in which we both think and act, is fundamentally metaphorical in nature."1 Chauncy and Mayhew sought to show how events and forces in the universe "mutually confirmed" each other, and, by capitalizing on their feeling for metaphor and analogy, they injected nuances into the theological vocabulary of the day in order to make their point. It was Mayhew's ability to demonstrate the mutual dependence of seemingly contradictory concepts that Harrison Gray (a West Church member) may have had in mind when he called Mayhew "such a Brilliant Genius" and, in describing young Jonathan's Harvard years, stated that he was "esteemed by the Governors of the College as the phenix of the Age. " 2 Mayhew himself considered the ability to balance ideas, and to avoid extremes, as being among the most admirable qualities a person could have. In his funeral sermon for Stephen Sewall, Mayhew applauded the latter's conduct as a Harvard faculty member with the following words: It was in this capacity that his admirable spirit of government became manifest to all. It was in this capacity that his exquisite pru-

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dence and discretion became more apparent, by his manner of conducting towards the youth of that society in the happiest medium between too much austerity and rigor on one hand, and remissness or familiarity on the other.3 The seeds of Mayhew's notion that extremes were to be avoided and that mediums were to be embraced were nurtured at Harvard. In one of his commonplace books, Mayhew entered a note, drawn from Pascal's Pensees, that explicitly connected the middle rank of the human body in the hierarchy of being with the limitation of human knowledge to "the middle of things." Speaking of human understanding, Mayhew wrote: His understanding holds the same rank in the order of beings, as his Body in the material system: And all the Knowledge he can reach, is only to discern somewhat of the middle of things, under an eternal Despair of comprehending either their Beginning or their End. . . . This middle state and condition is common to all our Faculties. Our Senses can bear no extremes. Too much noise or too much light are equally fatal; and make us either deaf or blind: Too great Distance or too great nearness do alike hinder a Prospect and etc. - This is our real Estate; and tis this which fixeth and confines all our Attainments within certain limits we can never pass.4 At Harvard, Mayhew concentrated his notetaking on passages that offered general conclusions rather than complex proofs. As Charles W. Akers writes, Jonathan "copied passages that appealed to him because of their metaphorical qualities and common sense rationality."5 Mayhew, indeed, also tended to copy or to paraphrase passages from European writers that relied upon analogies or hypothetical examples to make their points. Mayhew's interest in such writings is, moreover, evidenced as well by his distaste for "metaphysical proofs," if, again, his choices in notetaking are used as a guide. From Pascal he drew the following thought. The Metaphysical Proofs of God are so very intricate, and so far removed from the common reasonings of Men, that they strike with little force; or, at best, the impression continues but for a short Space. . . . Again all of the arguments of this abstracted kind are able to lead us no farther than to a Speculative knowledge of God: and to know him only thus, is in effect not to know him at all.6 Suspicion of metaphysical proofs, coupled with the sense of human inability to comprehend anything outside of the "middle state" of things added up to the necessity for open-mindedness. For Mayhew, extreme points of view were to be avoided, because they closed the mind to

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further learning. From "Dr. Watts Supplement to his Logic"7 Mayhew copied advice against dogmatism in one's thinking: "Maintain a constant Watch at all Times against a Dogmatical Spirit. A dogmatical Spirit has many Inconveniences in it: as it shuts the Ear against all further reasoning upon that Subject, and shuts the Mind from all further Improvements of Knowledge."8 Advice such as this was well taken by the Harvard student and its impression evidenced by Mayhew's similar statement concerning impartiality in Seven Sermons (1749). Openness to all arguments relevant to a particular matter was crucial, and one ought especially take care to consider both sides of an issue. Mayhew wrote: "Free examination, weighing arguments for, and against, with impartiality, is the way to find the truth."9 Mayhew offered guidelines for "a man's judging for himself with freedom."10 For an individual to make a sound decision, wrote Mayhew, it is imperative "that he suspends his judgement entirely concerning the truth or falsehood of all doctrines; and the fitness or unfitness of all actions; till such time as he sees some reason to determine his judgement one way rather than the other."11 Most important, the mind must be allowed to rest "in aequilibrio," drawn neither one way nor the other, so that bias does not affect judgment: "He that desires to come to the knowledge of truth, puts himself in a state of indijferency with regard to the point to be judged of, so that his mind, being as it were, in aequilibrio, his judgement may be determined solely by reason and argument."12 With an open mind, one is then ready to consider the pros and cons of the matter in question, "weighing arguments and evidences that offer themselves to us."13 Finally, then, one gives assent to truth in "proportion" to "the nature and degree of the apparent evidence."14 Such an unbiased method of reasoning, Mayhew believed, would avoid the danger of the taking of an extreme position in one's judgment. Indeed, the purpose of putting the mind "in aequilibrio" was to ensure that a moderate judgment, one that did not attempt to overstep the bounds of the human "middle state," would be made. Comparing extremes on either side of the human middle to "scylla" and "carybdis," Mayhew affirmed that the middle way was the "safe way": "For the moral world, as well as the natural, has its rocks and whirlpools', its scylla and carybdis, and a thousand enchanting sirens. To know the middle and safe way, will not secure us, unless we keep to it, and avoid the danger on either hand."15 Judgment "in aequilibrio" that kept to the middle way led for Mayhew to the recognition of "mediums." An unbiased decision almost always consisted in the discernment of a ground upon which extremes dissolved into each other, into a "medium" that included aspects of each side of an argument or a situation. In Sermons on the Following Subjects

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(1755), Mayhew's lengthy statement on Christian piety, the model of Christian behavior is characterized as a medium between overzealous scrupulosity and thoughtless action: "But surely, if there is any such thing as religion, there is a medium betwixt a superstitious, sullen, or affected gravity at the public worship, and that tho'tless levity of behaviour. . . ."16 Charles Chauncy, like Mayhew, upheld the necessity for an "undogmatical spirit." As Edward M. Griffin comments in his biography of Chauncy, Edward Wigglesworth, Chauncy's teacher at Harvard, provided for the young Chauncy the model of an open mind. It was Wigglesworth's method of presenting both sides of an issue that impressed Chauncy, and it was this lack of rigidity in Wigglesworth that Chauncy praised decades later: He is highly deserving of being remembered with honor, not only on account of his character as a man of learning, piety, and usefulness in his day, strength of mind, largeness of understanding, and an extraordinary talent of reasoning with clearness and the most nervous cogency, but on account also of his catholic spirit and conduct, notwithstanding great temptations to the contrary. He was one of the most candid men you ever saw; far removed from bigotry, no ways rigid in his attachment to any scheme, yet steady to his own principles, but at the same time charitable to others, though they widely differed from him. He was, in one word, a truly great and excellent man.17 Even when he had reasoned to a certain theological position, Chauncy took care in expressing his opinion, waiting for the appropriate time and place so as not to appear "extreme." Characteristic of this caution was Chauncy's decision to postpone publication of several provocative treatises he had worked on in the decade of the 1750s. The Benevolence of the Deity (1784), Five Dissertations on the Scripture Account of the Fall (1785), and The Mystery Hid from Ages and Generations, Made Manifest by the Gospel Revelation: or, The Salvation of All Men (1784) were, as Grif-

fin notes, "substantially worked out before 1760," and The Benevolence of the Deity, in all likelihood, as early as 1756, but Chauncy delayed their publication for at least twenty-five years, because he was concerned that they would make him appear too revolutionary in his religious ideas.18 Indeed, ideas contained in these treatises were a departure from previous Puritan theology. Nevertheless, they should be understood not as amendments to or a revision of Chauncy's theology in the 1740s to 1760s but rather as an integral part of his thinking in those years, as a balance or complement to more conservative arguments in his published work. Although they were not published until the 1780s, these treatises

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were part of a vision that was already in place by the mid 1750s, and ought to be seen in connection with those writings of Chauncy's that bear a publication date in the earlier period. The concern for avoiding extremes that was characteristic of the thought of Chauncy and Mayhew was in accord with Puritan tradition, and particularly with the overall Puritan conception of religion itself as a middle ground, or balance, of personal and collective experience. As Perry Miller demonstrated in The New England Mind: The Seventeenth Century, the discourses on logic fashioned by the sixteenth-century Dutch philosopher Petrus Ramus deeply influenced the Puritan conception of the world. According to Ramist logic, the cosmos was structured in dichotomous relationships: Some of those relationships were "adverses," or total opposites, such as hot and cold, while others were "relatives" or things symbiotically related. "Relatives," said Ramus, were two elements that were the mutual cause and effect of each other. True religion, reasoned the earliest New Englanders, consisted generally of two relatives, the individual element and the collective element, which hung together out of their own mutual need.19 The common impression of the typical English Puritan as an introspective, diary-writing, morally conscientious individualist is probably accurate. It is also incomplete. To concern for the fate of his or her soul must be added the Puritan's sense of connectedness to others of the elect. No less a Puritan leader than William Perkins insisted that the "calling" through which one strove for sanctification was unmistakably social in character. Indeed, he declared: "And that common saying, Every man for himself, and God for us all, is wicked, and is directly against the end of every calling or honest kind of life. "20 William Ames, addressing the topic of "human society" in The Marrow of Sacred Divinity, taught that the "solitary life" was an offense against the will of God: Within this society men are to serve each other in the mutual duties of justice and love so that they may exercise and show forth the religion which they profess in the worship of God. The solitary life which some hermits have chosen as angelic and others embrace for different reasons is so far from perfection that it is wholly contrary to the law and will of God, unless dictated by some extraordinary reason (which can avail only for a time). Human society provides the foundation to all the offices of justice and love commanded in the second table of the law. Transgressions which lead directly to the disturbance, confusion, and overthrow of this society are more grievous sins than breaches of the individual commandments.21

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Thomas Goodwin used the term "diffusive" to describe the social orientation of the regenerate individual. The path by which such a "new creature" comes nearest to God, as the heathen Cicero said, is nothing more than doing good to others. Yea, we find in Scripture the new creature compared unto all things that are diffusive of themselves, as partaking with them in this, which is the common property. Thus, it is compared to fire; one coal that hath fire in it enkindles another.22 The New England Puritans were as concerned about the social body as Englishmen such as Perkins and Ames. The religious vision of William Bradford's Of Plymouth Plantation is unmistakably social, and John Winthrop's speech aboard the Arbella in 1630 stressed that "wee must be knitt together in this worke as one man. " 23 The "social" sense that such Puritans as Perkins, Ames and Winthrop demonstrated has been noted by historians of English and American Puritanism. For Alan Simpson, the essence of Puritanism was "an experience of conversion which separates the Puritan from the mass of mankind," but, nevertheless, regeneration and sanctification for the Puritan "were to be sought within tribal community."24 M. M. Knappen, in his classic study of Tudor Puritanism argued that personal piety was the distinguishing mark of Puritanism. But, noted Knappen, "almost equally important in the Puritan's makeup was the fine balance he maintained between individualism and the needs of the social order."25 Perry Miller, writing about Puritanism in seventeenth-century America, plainly stated the connection between the individual and society: "For the Puritan mind, it was not possible to segregate a man's spiritual life from his communal life." Miller continued: There was, it is true, a strong element of individualism in the Puritan creed; every man had to work out his own salvation, each soul had to face his maker alone. But at the same time, the Puritan philosophy demanded that in society all men, at least all regenerate men, be marshalled into one united array.26 Mayhew and Chauncy upheld the principle of balance that was present in earlier Puritanism, but the two men did not inherit the vision directly - that is, in an unbroken line of descent - from their intellectual forebears. It was necessary for Mayhew and Chauncy to "remember" for their generation that which one or two earlier generations had forgotten, namely, that religion was indeed a balance of individual and social elements. The "forgetting" of this early Puritan balance had come about in two ways: (1) It was the result of the transformation of the piety of the seventeenth century New England holy commonwealths (a transforma-

26

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

tion that led to social, "moralistic" religion) and (2) it took place as a part of the Great Awakening. As the New England towns grew, their founders discovered that religious piety was not as visible in their children as they had expected it to be. The second and third generations of New Englanders simply did not give the evidence of regeneration, as their parents had, that would allow them to take up their places as citizens with full civil rights in the holy commonwealth. The Halfway Covenant (1662) and Stoddardeanism compromise solutions designed to draw those unsure of their conversion more fully into church life - exemplify the Puritan realization that the connection between the "inner life" of the individual and his social life was changing. What Perry Miller called a period of religious "declension" in the latter part of the seventeenth and the early eighteenth century was, in fact, a rearrangement of the relationship of the regenerate individual to colonial society. Though the spiritual life of New Englanders became less visible - that is, more private or personal - it did not decline in quality. Norman Pettit has argued that Stoddardeanism in fact established conditions more conducive to spiritual growth than the circumstances of life in earlier New England society. By doing away with the necessity for public "proofs" of conversion, Stoddard reestablished the sanctity of the inner life: "This return to the sanctity of the inner life, immune from the probings of others, gave rise to a genuine sense of spiritual release."27 The inner life may have become less visible, but it remained a strong undercurrent in Puritan New England. This is not to say that social life - less connected to personal religious experience - then degenerated into immorality. On the contrary, Puritans analyzed it and monitored it more closely than ever. Though the theocratic designs of the first settlers were now outdated, there nevertheless remained a strong impulse for morality. In the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century we find what Miller calls "the socialization of piety," with Cotton Mather's Essays To Do Good (1710) as the prime example of the literature that characterized this stage of New England Puritanism. Rather than describing the trials and victories of the soul, as Sibbes, Goodwin, and Cotton had done, Mather focused instead on social life, and encouraged the performance of certain good works caring for widows, helping the poor — as the essential concern of the spiritual life. The primary concern of the church was to guide the individual along a path of "right" actions toward salvation. Regeneration was important, but everyday morality was more important.28 One way, then, in which the Puritan balance came undone was in the rise of "moral religion," which stressed social over individual aspects of religion. Another more sudden deterioration of balance in religion came with

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the revival of religion in the 1740s. Profound religious conversions were the hallmark of this revival. Ministers preached for conversions. Individuals sought their own conversions. Solemn church meetings were transformed into demonstrations of weeping, singing, clapping, and shouting. One's personal experience, rather than correct social behavior, became almost overnight the most important element of the Christian life. As Richard L. Bushman writes: "The truly revolutionary aspect of the Awakening was the dilution of the divine sanction in traditional institutions and the investiture of authority in some inward experience. Thereby the church lost power, and individuals gained it."29 Jonathan Edwards, recounting the first sign of the Awakening in New England in 1734, sensed from the beginning that "inward experience" posed a direct challenge to the "do-good" religion of that time. In the fall of that year I proposed it to the young people, that they should agree among themselves to spend the evenings after lectures in social religion, and to that end divide themselves into companies to meet in various parts of the town. And then it was, in the latter part of December that the Spirit of God began to extraordinarily set in, and wonderfully to work amongst us; and there were, very suddenly, one after another, five or six persons, who were to all appearances savingly converted, and some of them wrought upon in a very remarkable manner. [Persons] now seemed to follow their worldly business, more as a part of their duty, than from any disposition they had to it; the temptation now seemed to lie on that hand, to neglect worldly affairs too much, and to spend too much time in the immediate exercise of religion . . . reading and praying and such like religious exercises.30 Edwards nevertheless believed that the revival of religion in Northampton, and in the colonies in general in the Whitefield years of 1740-1, was a blessing, not a curse. More than any other minister at the time, Edwards took the responsibility for defending the revival against the accusations of Charles Chauncy and the Old Light (antirevival) clergy. Chauncy caricatured the revival as an excessive, self-indulgent display of emotionalism and self-righteousness that would, if left unchecked, end in the overthrow of the established clergy and the creation of ecclesiastical anarchy. Indeed, Chauncy and his party did have legitimate reason to worry. The physical and emotional displays at revival meetings were new to the New England churches. In contrast to the traditionally composed and ordered demeanor of church meetings, these displays could easily have been interpreted as signals of the coming anarchy.31 In published accounts of revivals, in letters describing them, and in

28

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

essays debating their worth, the usual behavior of the participants is often elaborately and nearly always colorfully described. Thomas Parsons, describing a revival meeting in Lyme, Connecticut, wrote of "bodily agitations" of the participants and noted that "persons may be thrown into Hysterisms, Faintings, Out-Cries, etc." George Griswold likewise noted that "outcries, faintings and fits were oft at meetings." Gilbert Tennent commented that "some have been carried out of the assembly (being overcome) as if dead." Jonathan Edwards mentioned the "tears, trembling, groans, loud out-cries, agonies of the body, or the failing of bodily strength." And Charles Chauncy disapproved of the "violent effects on the bodies of men; causing them to shriek out, fall down, and swoon away; and in brief, to have on them all the symptom of bodily distress and agony." And in a particularly poetic moment Chauncy referred to the "bodily agitations, Convulsions, Tremblings, Swoonings, . . . Groanings, Quakings, Foamings, and Faintings."32 But even more than these physical expressions of the "affections," the writings and sermons of revivalist preachers evidence the new concern for the individual that emerged with the revival. The emphases that revivalists laid upon the conversion experience and as well upon the internal assurance of one's own salvation were a radical departure from the social, outwardly oriented religion of the preceding decades. Jonathan Edwards occupied himself throughout the decade of the 1740s with psychological and historical analyses of the revival. In A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections (1746) he set forth his conclusion in

clear terms: "Upon the whole, I think it clearly and abundantly evident, that true religion lies very much in the affections." Edwards repeatedly stressed the importance of "internal evidence" of the gospel, as opposed to its intellectual persuasiveness. That is, Edwards claimed that an individual could fully perceive the "truth" of the gospel only after he had first gained a "spiritual understanding" of the glory of God. The sense of the spiritual excellence and beauty of divine things, also tends directly to convince the mind of the truth of the gospel. Very many of the most important things declared in the gospel are hid from the eyes of men, the truth of which in effect consists in this excellency, or so immediately depends upon it, and results from it, that in this excellency being seen, the truth of those things is seen.33 Edwards thus broke decisively with his immediate theological roots in New England, by focusing essentially upon the personal relationship between the individual and the Deity, and by arguing for the indispensability of a "spiritual understanding" through that relationship. For Edwards, the regenerate Christian life was no longer characterized essen-

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tially by correct moral action - though that was still important - but was understood instead to consist above all in a stirring of the religious affections to "spiritual conviction" within the individual. The itinerant evangelist George Whitefield, whose trip through the colonies in 1740-1 marked the high point of the revival, stressed, like Edwards, the "experimental knowledge" of God as indispensable to one's salvation: "None ever were, or ever will be received up into glory, but by an experimental application of his [Christ's] merits to their heart." Whitefield also self-consciously broke with the theological opinions of early eighteenth-century "moralists": The sum of the matter is this: Christianity includes morality, as grace does reason, but if we are only mere Moralists, if we are not inwardly wrought upon, and changed by the powerful operations of the Holy Spirit, and our moral actions proceed from a principle of a new nature . . . then we shall be found [unworthy] at the great day.34 Inwardness was what suddenly counted in salvation. Preaching from this point of view, Jonathan Parsons demonstrated an argumentative strategy common to almost all who encouraged the Awakening when he asked of critics of the Awakening: "I would put another Question to such Persons which may be as necessary to be resolved this Day as the former, and that is whether they ever experimentally knew what a Work of saving

Grace upon the soul was\"35 For Parsons and most of the Calvinist clergy, there was little point in engaging in discussion with opponents of the revival on the matter of "externals" until those opponents acknowledged the importance of the internal. Moreover, among those who encouraged the revival, the investigation of "inwardness" and the "religious affections" was carried on with the same intensity with which colonial clergy had calculated the variety of ways in which one could "do good." Edwards, of course, was the most perceptive and eloquent among those who attempted to explore the psychology of religious experience. But he was by no means alone. Jonathan Dickinson, in The Witness of the Spirit (1740), went so far as to set forth a six-point program designed to elicit one's "inner" experience of the Spirit. In language similar to that of modern self-help books, Dickinson described the path to "the witness of the Spirit." 1. Take it for granted that the witness of the Spirit is Attainable. Others have attained it, and why not may you, as well as others? 2. The diligent Hand maketh Rich. If you are doubtful and Remiss, you must expect to be dark and doubtful about your state. But up and be doing; and you may hope that the Lord will be with you.

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3. Be constant in self-examination. 4. Be very watchful. Watch over your Hearts, your Thoughts, and Affections. 5. Labor to evidence the Truth of Grace in your Hearts, by the present exercise of it. 6. Finally acknowledge the Evidences of your gracious State so far as you see them.36 In the 174OS-5OS, then, part of the clergy sided with the revival emphasis upon private "inner" experience, and another part of the clergy clung to the principles of social "moralistic" religion. Trying carefully to avoid an "extreme," Mayhew and Chauncy attempted to draw back together the individual and social aspects of religion. They accomplished this, first, by shaping a religious individualism that blended reason with the affections, and secondly, by balancing that individualism with an emphasis on the social elements in religion (morality and public, institutionalized means of grace). It is clear that Chauncy and Mayhew did not object to the revivalists' claims for the importance of the affections. As early as his Harvard days, and perhaps earlier, Mayhew had given the affections a central position in his understanding of religion. One of his notes on Pascal reads: "The Heart has its Arguments and motives, with which the Reason is not acquainted. We feel this in a thousand Instances. It is the Heart and not the Reason which has properly the perception of God. God, sensible to the Heart, is the most compendious Description of true and perfect faith. "37 About the time that he was taking this line from Pascal, he was writing to his brother about the revival. Having gone to York, Maine, "to get a right Understanding of Affairs there with Respect to Religion," he enthusiastically described what he saw: The Spirit seems to set the Word home in a very extraordinary Manner. . . . When I have seen and heard them blessing and praising the adored Jesus, I have frequently thought of the children crying out Hosanna to the Son of David, Hosanna in the Highest! . . . May our souls be more & more inflamed with the Love of Christ, and grow warmer and warmer in our devotions to him, till we arrive at the Regions of Immortal Glory, where we shall never know any coldness of Affection, and where Hosannas shall never languish on our Tongues.38 Mayhew's approval of the revival is clear beyond doubt from such language, and from his summary statement: "With my whole Soul bless God for it, that here is a Revival of Religion. "39

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The positive impression the revival made upon Mayhew as a young man is detectable in all of Mayhew's later thinking. In The Duty of

Religious Thankfulness Explainyd and Inculcated (1758) Mayhew wrote:

"For it may be asked, if a man is wholly sensible of the worth of those blessings which he enjoys . . . and therefore is rationally convinced that they flow from the divine grace and bounty, is he not truly thankful to God for them?"40 The answer, he declared, was no, because no opinion, no judgement which the mind, or rational faculty, forms concerning the goodness and mercy of God, however true and just, is itself religious thankfulness. That consists, as before observed, in certain operations of the heart, corresponding to these rational and just conceptions of the head, or intellectual faculty; in devout and warm affections, ascending to God like incense from the altar.41 Mayhew was emphatic that the affections were the "proper seat" of religious thankfulness: Religious thankfulness is distinguished, not only from the mere sensation ofjoy on account of the blessings received; but also from a mere speculative notion in the head, and all the operations of that which is peculiarly and strictly called, the intellectual or rational faculty in man; the heart or affections, as distinguished therefrom, being the proper seat of it.42 Just as Mayhew made no objection to a place for the "heart" in religion, he saw nothing wrong with passion in a more general sense. In Christian Sobriety he argued that "anger, or wrath, is a passion that is natural to mankind and born with us as our other passions are. " 43 What was "natural" was for Mayhew what was good and useful, and it was on these grounds that he likewise upheld the place of the passion of "mirth" as a "natural, comely, and useful passion."44 Passions were from God, and God had provided for their balanced exercise: "The infinitely wise and beneficent Author of nature, and of all the social passions, affections, and instincts in mankind, has, by his express laws and institutions, made provision for the regular, virtuous and honorable gratification of them."45 Chauncy, like Mayhew, upheld the place of the affections in religious life. Though Chauncy was the most outspoken critic of the revival, at battle with Jonathan Edwards over the merits of the revival throughout the 1740s, he in no way rejected the importance of the affections in the religious life. In Seasonable Thoughts, a criticism of the revival, Chauncy upheld the place of the passions: "There is, no doubt, a good Use to be

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made of the Passions - they were not in vain planted in our Nature - but because widely adapted to serve many purposes, in the religious as well as

the natural life." 46 In Ministers Cautioned against the Occasions of Contempt

(1744) the message was the same: The affections "have their Use in Religion, and it may serve a great many good purposes to excite and warm them."47 Chauncy and Mayhew did not unqualifiedly support the place of the affections in religion, however. They insisted that the affections be balanced with a more sober sort of "private" religion, one that allowed a place for reason. They were concerned, of course, that an emphasis upon only the affections might lead to an extreme, especially in the hands of such overstoked preachers as James Davenport and Gilbert Tennent.48 In explaining this, Chauncy used the exact metaphor that Edwards - himself a more sober defender of the revival than Davenport or Tennent had used to describe the relationship between the affections and understanding. Edwards, credited by Edwin Gaustad and other scholars with having considered religion as an "organic whole,"49 wrote: "Holy affections are not heat without light; but evermore arise from some information of the understanding, some spiritual instruction the mind receives, some light or actual knowledge."50 Chauncy used the same example in arguing that a balance was necessary: To be sure the Understanding ought not to be neglected. Light and Heat should always go together, and keep pace with each other. Nor unless there is a due Proportion of the former, will it turn to any good Account if there be ever so much of the latter: Nay, Heat in the Affections, without light in the Mind, will serve rather to make men wild, than religious.51 When the balance was upset, when passion and understanding no longer "kept pace with each other," disorder resulted. This was the crux of Chauncy's criticism of the revival: The affections had become important out of all proportion to understanding, with the result that persons were acting, as Chauncy accused the revivalist James Davenport of acting, "under no influence than that of an over-heated imagination."52 Mayhew generally used the term "restrained" to describe the role of reason in overseeing the affections, but he most commonly intended by that term to refer to a balance that was necessary between reason and passion. Indeed, reason and passion cooperated with each other in fostering love of God, preventing, by their mutual presence, gravitation to an extreme either of enthusiasm or mere speculation. "Love of God," Mayhew wrote, is indeed a passion, but a passion excited by reason presenting the proper object of it to the mind. Nor ought we be so solicitous

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about avoiding one extreme, as to fall into the contrary. We ought not to run so far from enthusiasm, as to lose sight of real devotion; we ought not to be so fond of a rational religion, as to suppose that religion consists wholly in cold, dry speculation, without having any concern with the affections.53 Where "rational conceptions" were combined with passion of the heart, faith was present: Right conceptions, I mean rational and truly scriptural ones, of God's adorable attributes, are the foundation of all true religion. And these conceptions, if, instead of floating in the brain, they sink into the heart, and are formed into a fixed principle there, called FAITH in the language of scripture; are really the substance of religion.54 Stress of the rational alongside the affections - the so-called supernatural rationalism of Mayhew and Chauncy - was drawn from the theological works the two men most often cite, namely, the writings of Tillotson, Locke, and Clarke.55 This supernatural rationalism included some of the moralistic emphasis of New Englanders such as Cotton Mather, but went beyond Mather in its claim for the capability of the individual, guided by reason, to make "private judgments" about the truth of religious ideas. John Tillotson (1630-94), Archbishop of Canterbury, was one of the most renowned preachers of his day, and his fame was partially a product of his ability to communicate new and difficult ideas in straightforward prose. In terms of its effects upon later English and American theologians, Tillotson's thinking may be distilled into a system of short propositions. First, religion is to be judged valuable because it establishes the legitimate grounds for morality. Secondly, the fact that there is a God who demands virtuous action on the part of persons, is given in natural religion. Thirdly, natural religion has not, however, functioned effectively, and to it must be added revelation. Tillotson described the relationship between natural and revealed religion as follows: "Natural religion is the foundation of all revealed religion, and revelation is designed simply to establish its duties."56 Fourthly, Christ, the Son of God, has provided the example of virtuous living that Christians ought to follow. In The Example of Jesus in Doing Good, Tillotson declared that "religion, indeed, did always consist in an imitation of God, and in our resemblance of those excellences which shine forth in the best and most perfect Being; but we imitate him now with much greater ease and advantage, since God was pleased to become man on purpose to shew us how many men may become like to God. "57 In general, Tillotson underlined the rational, commonsensical character of Christianity, and played down the impor-

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tance of the inwardness of religion, of the experience of a divine presence. John Locke (163 2-1704) set forth specific philosophical arguments on the topic of natural religion, and thus provided a good portion of the intellectual backbone for the sermons of preachers such as Tillotson. In An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690) Locke asserted that all

knowledge comes from experience, and none of it is innate in the world. The mind is like "white paper, devoid of all characters."58 Men thus have no innate idea of God, but can, through reason, reach the conclusion that God exists. Natural religion thus existed for Locke, but he made a distinction in his analysis of sensual knowledge and reason that left open the door for revelation. According to Locke, there is some knowledge that is "above reason." Not to be confused with propositions that are "contrary to reason," this knowledge does not provide the senses with sufficient data to make possible a judgment of its truth or probability. Locke goes on to the matter of revelation specifically: There being many things wherein we have very imperfect notions or none at all; and other things of whose past, present, or future existence by the natural use of our faculties we can have no knowledge at all; these, as being beyond the knowledge of our natural faculties and above reason are, when revealed the proper matter of faith. Thus, that part of the angels rebelled against, and thereby lost their first happy state; and that the dead shall rise and live again: these and the like being beyond the discovery of reason, are purely matters of faith with which reason has directly nothing to do.59 Locke thus attempted to infuse into his rational empiricism an element of supernaturalism. But, like Tillotson, he guarded the authority of that revelation by insisting that it was only through the evidence of miracles that a revelation could be considered divine. In his Discourse on Miracles (1706) he wrote that a miracle "is a sensible operation, which being above the comprehension of the spectatore and in his opinion contrary to the established course of nature, is taken by him to be divine. "60 The purpose of the miracle is "to witness his mission from God who delivers the revelation," and nothing else. In terms more precise than Tillotson, and perhaps less appealing than Tillotson's grand sermons because of that, Locke set out the terms on which natural religion could be defended in the philosophical discourse of the day. Anthony Collins and the Irishman John Toland were two writers who drew directly upon Locke to defend natural religion.61 Samuel Clarke (1675-1729) was an Anglican theologian and philosopher who advanced the case for supernatural rationalism as much as Locke or Tillotson, but from an entirely different angle. Clarke rejected the em-

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pirical philosophy of Locke and stressed instead the fundamental role of innate ideas. Clarke argued for the autonomy of morality, and for the discernment, through reason, of the relations or "fitnesses" which exist between things, and which constitute that morality. But, argued Clarke, human lusts and passions often prevent the discernment of "fitnesses," and thus persons might not recognize the obligation they are under, as rational creatures, to act in accordance with the rational, moral order of the cosmos. Thus, a system of rewards and punishments has been established by God, who has revealed them in the Christian religion. This revelation appeals to persons because of its plain rationality and its obvious excellence in bringing about happiness through virtuous living.62 In America, supernatural rationalism developed from the propositions that Tillotson, Locke, and Clarke were setting forth in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century. After the charter of 1691 had made Massachusetts a royal colony - an act that, among other things, removed the church-membership qualification that had been required of voters New Englanders were drawn into more active participation in English political and intellectual life. Perry Miller pointed out that "the magic word in the new mode was 'Reason.' As soon as the charter brought Boston closer to the orbit of London, New England heard that reason had become, as never before, the passport to respectability. . . . Sin is, suddenly, violence against the principles of reason. " 63 In the hands of such early-eighteenth-century interpreters as Cotton Mather, Benjamin Colman (God Deals with Us as Rational Creatures [1723]), and Jonathan's father, Experience Mayhew (A Discourse Shewing That God Deals with Us as Rational Creatures [1720]), these English ideas did not lead to an individualistic religion, but to social religion. It was assumed that conversation, argument, and, most important, classroom study of the rules of logic, etc. - all of which were distinctly social enterprises - provided the best nurture for reason. Reason and judgment were shaped by learning, and as the clergy as a whole were the best equipped to teach, the status of the minister as a learned spiritual guide rose, religion became increasingly social, and the cultivation of reason was advanced. Mather's Manuductio ad Ministerium: Directions for a Candidate for the Ministry (1726) reflects the attitude that the cultivation of reason and discernment was a matter of careful conversation and study: Rules of Behaviour . . . are best learnt by a Wise Observation of what you see passes in the conversation of Politer People. . . . The Truth is; the most exact and constant Rules of Behaviour, will be found Rules of Christianity: For which Cause it pleased our Glorious Redeemer more than once to give them. Every Christian as far

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as he keeps to his own Rules will be so far a gentleman. And for this Cause, I again advise you to a Careful Study of them.64 Toward the middle of the eighteenth century, faith in reason was enlarged, while at the same time it was loosened somewhat from its social context. American writers began to suggest that the kernel of reason implanted in each person might best develop in an environment that encouraged private, personal intellectual exploration as much as it did the mastery of "rules" and a specific curriculum. It is possible that the same impulses toward individualism that came to expression in the Awakening's stress upon "inferiority" and the affections influenced certain of the mid-eighteenth-century clergy toward this point of view. In any event, it is clear that in the wake of the revival, reverence for reason came to be more closely linked with faith in individual self-improvement. Jonathan Mayhew, Charles Chauncy, and their close friend at nearby Hingham, the Reverend Ebenezer Gay, were three of the leading proponents of this view. Mayhew's The Right and Duty of Private Judgement (1749) suggested the direction of this movement with the assertion: "Now if it be of any importance for us to be happy to ourselves, it is of importance to us to judge for ourselves also; for this is absolutely necessary in order to our finding the path that leads to happiness. "65 Chauncy, whose sermons were laced with references to "self-improvement," likewise stressed that the cultivation of reason was a form of personal improvement that led to personal rewards: This method of man's attaining to the perfection he was made for, affords not only the most natural occasion for the various exercise of his implanted powers, but constantly presents the most reasonable call for his exercise. . . . For these improvements, in all their degrees, in the present view of them, are at once the result of the due use of implanted powers and the reward of the use of them. 66 Ebenezer Gay, well known for his 1759 Dudleian lecture - an argument for the compatibility of reason and religion titled Natural Religion As Distinguish }d from Revealed - drew directly on Clarke for a considerably bolder statement: Man is not merely so much lumpish Matter, or a mechanical Engine, that moves only by the Direction of an impelling Force, but he hath a Principle of Action within himself, and is an Agent in the Strict and Proper Sense of the Word. The special Endowment of his Nature, which constitutes him such, is the Power of Self-Determination, or Freedom of Choice; his being possessed of which is as self-evident, as the Explanation of the Manner of its operating is difficult.67

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The religious individualism of Chauncy and Mayhew was a balance of faith in rationalist self-improvement and affectional "inner" experience. But Chauncy and Mayhew did not stress only the individual aspects of religion. In the wider context of their thought, their individualism was itself balanced by an emphasis upon the social elements in religion. This social emphasis was characterized by a devotion to ecclesiastical institutions - a devotion that Mayhew and Chauncy had inherited from Cotton Mather and other New England clerical forefathers. Moreover, the authority of the minister was, for them, the key to the survival of ecclesiastical institutions. As Bushman writes, the opponents of the revival, bound to conventional law and authority, still believed that ecclesiastical institutions were the "plain, revealed Will of Christ." Arguing that "the Validity of Administration depends not upon the Faith and Holiness of the Minister . . . but on a man's having Christ's Commission" received in a proper ordination, they foresaw chaos if men judged the validity of authority for themselves.68 The charge of "unfitness" that some revivalist preachers leveled against ministers who did not evidence an emotional conversion seemed to Chauncy to be potentially destructive of the entire religious order of New England. Such loss, Chauncy declared, could not possibly be divinely ordained: "The divine, ever-blessed SPIRIT is consistent with himself. He cannot be supposed to be the author of any private revelations that are contradictory to the public standing ones, which he has preserved in the world to this day."69 It was this matter of the relation of private to public that brought into focus for Chauncy all of the other problems of religion in the mid eighteenth century. For Chauncy, public worship was essential to the Christian life, and participation in the Lord's Supper as a "means of grace" was especially important. In 1739 Chauncy vigorously warned against neglecting the institutionalized means of grace: For there is Danger in neglecting the Sacrament, as well as in coming to it in an unprepared Manner; and the Danger of a total Neglect is certainly much greater, than a meer Defect in the Measure of Preparation, 'Tis a fault to come to the Sacrament, unless we are in some good measure prepared: 'Tis a Fault likewise, and a greater fault, totally to abstain.70 Pleading that his reason for the frequent use of the "means of grace" be considered, Chauncy concluded his sermon with the words: "O be persuaded by the Arguments wherein you have been compelled! And let it by your speedy Care to come to the Sacrament. "71 Like Mayhew, Chauncy believed that the presentation of "reason and

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argument" was the duty of a minister. The "only compulsion" a minister was allowed in guiding his congregation to holiness was "sound Reasoning, good Argument."72 Rationality was the bridge between private judgment and ministerial authority. Chauncy first emphasized human rationality: "As Men are rational,freeagents, they can't be religious but by thtfree Consent of their Wills, and this can be gain'd in no Way, but Reason and Persuasion. " 73 Added to this was an instruction to ministers in how to "compel" but yet not undermine free consent. Ministers should "apply to their Reason and Conscience; inform their Understanding; convince their Judgements; make Use of those Persuasions, lay before them those Motives and Arguments, which will leave them inexcusable, if they are not wri't upon."74 Straightforward advice such as this masks the complexity of the issue, however. Chauncy often attributed substantially more authority to a minister than such a statement would suggest. He likewise at times so pointedly emphasized the freedom of individuals that pressure of any sort on the direction of one's spiritual life might be considered interference. For Chauncy, the minister held an office that clearly separated him from other persons: "There should be officers in the church, an order of men to whom it should belong as their proper, stated work, to exhort and teach, that cannot be the business of others."75 Moreover, a minister "ought certainly to be a Man above the common level for natural Capacities."76 Chauncy pointed out that Paul, in his instructions to Titus, "is very particular in minding him of the necessary Qualifications for the sacred Office, that he might put none into it, who were not fit for so important a Trust."77 So rigid were the qualifications, and so important was the office, that one ought to censor the attempts o£"private Christians in quitting their own proper station, to act in that which belongs to another. Such a practice as this naturally tends to destroy that order, God has constituted in the church."78 Even in the "body mystical" it was wrong for all except the distinguished few to serve in the ministerial office: "There is in the body of CHRIST, the Church, a distinction of members. Some intended for one use, others for another; and that it would bring confusion into the body mystical, for one member to be employed in that service which is adapted to another, and is its proper business."79 The duty of ministers was to impress upon their congregations the truth of certain doctrines. It was assumed that the minister could detect the truth, and in this rested his authority. His extensive "natural capacities," and his special qualifications - which probably ought to include a Harvard diploma80 - gave him that authority. His learning and discernment enabled him to see the truth of scripture. He was paid a salary to transmit it.

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But there was a legitimacy to private judgment that challenged the authority of the clergy. Chauncy believed that humans were "endowed with rational and moral powers."81 Of the ability to tell good from evil, Chauncy wrote: "What a noble implantation is this power of our nature?"82 But Chauncy was particularly interested in what he called the power of "self-determination," which "gives rise to our volitions, and subsequent actions, and is, in true propriety, the cause of them."83 Indeed, this power occupied a preeminent place among all of the endowed powers: "The plain truth is, such a power in men as will make them causes, of their volitions, and the effects consequent upon them, is the grand supporting pillar of the world, considered as moral. Take this away and it at once falls into defolation and ruin. "84 Persons are capable of functioning as moral agents only by virtue of their ability to be the causes of their own actions: "Had not this power been implanted in us, we should have been passive instruments, not moral agents."85 Indeed, unless self-determination "be first supposed, to talk of moral agency is a contradiction to common sense, and in itself a gross absurdity."86 But yet, the way in which this power operates so that persons are "free agents" is itself not understood: "The power in our nature that constitutes us free agents is an amazing contrivance of infinite wisdom. The modus of its existence is too great a deep for us to fathom. "8? Chauncy was certain, however, that free will was critical to human happiness. Individual choice plays a fundamental role in human happiness because God does not "open or enlarge our implanted faculties, or fill them with the good that is suited to them, but with the consequence of ourselves."88 Chauncy explained further that this principle of active participation in choosing good and experiencing happiness was a "general principle." According to Chauncy, "the good we are originally formed for is put very much into our own power, in so much that we are more or less happy, in consequence of our own conduct. This is one of the general laws, according to which the Deity operates in the communication of good."89 It was only a step further for Chauncy to make self-improvement a general law: A greater part of mankind do not arrive to that extent, either of perfection or happiness, their original capacities would have allowed of, and they might have attained to, had they more wisely fallen in with the tendency of that general law, which makes their perfection and happiness so much dependent on themselves.90

By carefully cultivating one's implanted powers, one both fulfills one's moral obligation and advances toward perfection and happiness. Chauncy explained that "this method of man's attaining to the perfection he was made for, affords not only the most natural occasion for the various

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exercise of his implanted powers, but constantly presents the most reasonable call for this exercise."91 Persons were ultimately capable of "resembling the Deity in knowledge, holiness, and happiness" by "the right use of their implanted powers."92 Indeed, by diligently cultivating one's potential, it was possible to advance to ever more blissful existence. If "self-improvement" was for Chauncy a "general principle," then "advancement" or "progress" on a cosmic scale was a corollary concept equally important: It is in consequence of this progressive capacity, that we suppose and I do think, upon just and solid grounds, that all intelligent moral beings, in all worlds, are continually going on, while they suitably employ and improve their original faculties, from one degree of attainment to another; and hereupon from one degree of happiness to another, without end.93 The doctrine of self-improvement did not mix easily with Chauncy's ideas about the authority and leadership of the clergy. Indeed, Chauncy himself warned that ministers were fallible and that their teachings should not be accepted uncritically. "To be sure," wrote Chauncy in 1766, ministers "should not deliver their interpretations of scripture as 'infallible' instructors, and give them out as oracles not to be disputed, or examined, or implicitly believed. They should rather own themselves fallible men, of'like passions with others,' and in danger of mistakes and errors."94 Ministerial authority bordering on infallibility would, of course, render insignificant the individual's active role in reaching perfection, by undercutting his free will and moral agency. Chauncy therefore affirmed that "the best qualified ministers are but Men; men of like Passions with yourselves: And of this they too often give Proof by the Errors they run into, in Principle as well as Practice. They may not therefore be depended on, as though you could not be misguided by them."95 Authority ultimately rested in scripture, not in the interpretations ministers put upon it. In spite of the abilities of ministers, their superior qualifications, their learning, and their discernment, Chauncy stated that one "must not believe upon their Authority. No, but you must bring what they say, with an unprejudiced Mind, to the HOLY BIBLE; closing with it, or rejecting it, as you find it upon trial to agree or disagree with that one only Test of all religious Truth. "96 In establishing these grounds for proof of a doctrine, Chauncy differed with Mayhew. Where Mayhew appealed to reason as the test of truth, Chauncy appealed to scripture. But in spite of this difference, Chauncy had much in common with Mayhew if the function of such an appeal is considered. Mayhew's confidence in the possibility of the cooperation of

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private judgment and ministerial authority under the canopy of reason was equaled by Chauncy's certainty that a reciprocal relationship between ministerial authority and the legitimacy of self-improvement would be evidenced by appeal to scripture. In this sense, Mayhew's appeal to reason was identical to Chauncy's advice to consider scripture with an "unprejudiced Mind." Of course Chauncy realized that a passage could be found in scripture to support almost any doctrine. But he believed that an unbiased reading of scripture would vindicate both minister and lay person because scripture validated both personal judgment and ministerial authority, and scripture was always consistent.97 It is appropriate in this instance, then, to assume that "scripture," like reason, referred to a process. It was in a sense a mnemonic for the dialectical relationship between two seemingly opposite elements, rather than a practical solution to a specific problem. Dialectic, or, as Kenneth Burke writes, "the discovery of truth by the give and take of converse and redefinition," was something Chauncy understood.98 In one of his earliest sermons, published in 1731, he declared that the continual movement back and forth between prosperity and adversity actually brought out the best in persons: "It is therefore a Wise disposal of Providence, that our present State is variable, that we are sometimes in one condition and sometimes in another; sometimes in Adversity and Prosperity. Such a mixt, inconstant State is best suited to the present Frame of our Minds."99 Underlying this assertion was an explanation that clearly evidenced Chauncy's dislike of extremes and his belief in the necessity to consider both sides of every matter: If, on the one hand, we were bless'd with a constant Run of Prosperity; for a long time together enjoying our Health and Friends and all the Comforts and good things of Life: ten to one but that it would be the Means of our being ruined forever. We could not bear such an uninterrupted Series of Worldly Happiness; we should be apt to grow proud and insolent. . . . And on the other hand, if we were frown'd upon in Providence, and kept under poor, difficult, and afflictive Circumstances; and this was to be our condition invariable; it would sink our Spirits.100 Chauncy's choice of texts upon which to make this point is also instructive. Preaching on James 4:14, wherein human life is compared to "even a vapour" that passes away, Chauncy declared that this was "a true and lively representation of the State of Man's Life upon Earth!"101 For Chauncy, a "vapour" suggested life "constantly passing under innumerable changes," uncertain in its length and "unsettled" in its character: "The Metaphor in the Text, signifies to us, the inconstant, unsettled State of the present Life." 102 A "vapour," observed Chauncy, "sometimes con-

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tinues a longer, and sometimes a shorter Time," and "one while it extends itself far and wide, anon it dwindles away into nothing."103 It was a variable, unclassifiable phenomenon, and was therefore like life: "And it is in a sort necessary, the present State of Man's Life should be thus variable."***

Just as the course of a life on earth was for Chauncy an "unsettled" condition, so was human life in any one moment a dialectic between body and soul. Like Mayhew, Chauncy thought in terms of "system." Religion was a system, regeneration was a system, the affections and understanding formed a system, and society was perhaps the most complex system of all. In his sermon at Mayhew's funeral, Chauncy explained how each person was a "system": The human system is a most curious piece of divine workmanship. It consists of two essentially different parts, a "body" that is wonderfully put together, and rendered capable, by means of its various purposes, and a "soul" that is furnished with powers of a more noble and excellent nature, such as thinking, reasoning, reflecting, and perceiving both pleasure and pain, with admirable variety, in kind and degree, almost without end. Between these two, though quite different from each other, there is "so intimate relation as to constitute one person, or living agent, and such is their mutual dependence, that the 'mind' perceives for the whole body, cares for all its members, and directs all its motions: And, on the other hand, the 'corporeal organs' convey to the mind the knowledge of external objects, and are the fit instruments of its active powers." This is our frame, and thus we live in the world. In consequence of these wonderfully formed "bodies" and "souls" and the close union there is between them, we become capable of all those employments and enjoyments, whether bodily or mental, secular or religious, wherein consists the benefit of life.105 Like Chauncy, Mayhew believed that both the passions and speculative knowledge were fundamental to religion, and that individual judgment in religious matters should be balanced with public worship and the spiritual guidance of a minister. "Religious thankfulness" was a matter involving the heart, but true religion involved public worship as well: "Though the heart is what is primarily and chiefly regarded, our gratitude ought, in some cases at least, to be expressed in outward exercises of piety; in extolling the name of God and singing his praises; and this in a public, social manner."106 It was important for Christians to gather to "hear the word": "It is manifestly the duty of all Christians in common to hear the word; particularly, to hear it in the public assembly of the Saints, upon the stated times for such religious exercises."107 Indeed, participa-

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tion in religious rituals in general was a part of the Christian duty, because Christian obedience respects the morals of the gospel, and positive institutions of it. A true disciple of Christ esteems himself bound to conform to the instituted worship, and the ritual or ceremonial part of Christ's religion, as well as that part of it which we distinguish therefrom by the name of moral.108 Mayhew pointed out that everyone, especially "dumb" persons, needed instruction from the pulpit, from the minister who was a "spiritual guide."109 It was the duty of this guide to explain and apply scripture, and Mayhew left aside all modesty in describing the character of such a person: "A man of superior knowledge and integrity may be of great advantage in a Christian society, by helping his brethren and neighbors to a right understanding of the scriptures."110 While he was affirming the importance of conformity to church traditions, and emphasizing the key role of the minister as an authoritative teacher, he was at the same time upholding the "right and duty of private judgement." "Our intellectual faculties were given to us to improve," wrote Mayhew, and that improvement included, perhaps more than anything else, making private judgments in religious matters: "It is the duty of Christians to assert their right of private judgement in religious matters."111 Those who would seek to limit the exercise of private judgment were "encroachers upon liberty": All who in any way discourage freedom of inquiry and judgement in religious matters, are, so far as they are guilty of this, encroachers upon the natural rights of mankind . . . because it is the natural right and priviledge of every man to make the best use he can of his faculties.112 Mayhew, of course, sensed an antagonism between private judgment and ministerial authority, but denied that the two actually need conflict: "A man's being authorized (if you please, a divinely authorized) instructor in religious matters, is no ways inconsistent with the right of private judgement in others."113 Indeed, the two actually cooperated. To the objection that "freedom of inquiry will naturally bring our spiritual guides into contempt, and weaken their authority," Mayhew answered: "To this I reply that it cannot possibly be of any disadvantage to the sober and rational part of the clergy, but has a tendency to make them more esteemed."114 Just as congregations ought to seek a medium in their behavior, so also ought preachers take care to avoid extremes in their profession. A minister had a certain amount of authority in spiritual matters, but discern-

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ment of the degree of that authority was a delicate matter. The duty of the office demanded that a minister urge upon his congregation a certain view of the Christian life, based on scripture. The minister did not, however, have the authority to command his congregation to accept that view unquestioningly. The correct ground of authority was for Mayhew a "medium." In Christian Sobriety (1763), Mayhew addressed this problem in considering the meaning of the word "exhortation" in ministerial duties: The manner of address expressed by the word exhortation, is a medium betwixt commanding and simply desiring a thing: the former of which supposeth such an authority as no minister of the gospel has, and the latter of which supplies nothing more than what a child might do as well as an apostle.115 Private judgment and ministerial authority supported and strengthened each other. Ministerial authority is strengthened because private judgment will reject nonrational doctrines, and thereby weed out those who teach them. Christians should "not blindly follow their spiritual guides in anything."116 "We are," declared Mahyew, "in reason obliged to examine all that they say, and to either receive or reject it, as evidence of its truth does or does not appear."117 The minister, by the same token, informs persons with "reason and argument" so that their judgments are more likely to be correct. In this way, the church contributes to the authority of private judgment. The key to this reciprocal relationship lies in Mayhew's invocation of reason as the criterion of truth in such matters. A religious doctrine will be accepted or rejected by individuals and ministers alike on the basis of its rationality. Kenneth Burke, who has proposed that we understand language as a dialectical structure, has pointed out that we ought, in particular, "to consider all rationalism as essentially dialectical."118 "Rationalism" is "stress upon method." "Reason" and "rationality" are terms that refer to a dialectical process. By way of example, Burke observes: And so the three great exponents of modern rationalism, Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibniz, offered, respectively, a Discourse on Method, an Ethics presented more geometrico after the analogy of Euclidean demonstration, and "the idea of a universal logic and language" which should be to philosophy what calculus was to physics. And whereas these early rationalists said that the world is rational, Hegel went as much farther in that direction as is possible by saying that the world is Reason.119 Mayhew, in addressing one of the most urgent problems of the day, explained that "rationality" was the basis on which ministers and con-

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gregations could agree about religious doctrines. The meaning conveyed by such an appeal to rationality, however, was this: Church authority and private judgment were dialectically related, each conditioning and supporting the other. "Rational" identified the relationship between two elements, the method but not the ends of the action. An appeal to "rationality" is in this instance a way of pointing to the dialectic between private judgment and ministerial authority. In explaining other matters of religious doctrine Chauncy and Mayhew also relied upon the principle of dialectic, or balance. This principle appears clearly in Mayhew's discussion of the relationship between faith and works. Using the terms "saved by grace" and "obedience to the gospel" to identify faith and works, respectively, Mayhew argued that no antagonism whatsoever existed between these principles. In fact, there was no reason why both understandings of the way to salvation might not be true: "For if there be no real repugnancy between these principles, they may both be equally true, nor can the falsehood of one be inferred from the truth of the other."120 Mayhew set out to show how grace and works cooperated in a person's salvation. Unwilling to make justification contingent upon human merit, but equally unwilling to omit obedience to the gospel from the formula for salvation, Mayhew stressed that both obedience and God's grace were necessary: "My business is to show that there is no inconsistency betwixt these doctrines, that tho' we are saved by grace, yet we are saved in the way of obedience."121 As Conrad Wright has pointed out, Mayhew retained the traditional Calvinist expression that justification is by faith, so that "in words, at least, the Arminians were loyal to the principles of the Reformation."122 But Mayhew widened the meaning of "justification by faith" to include acts of repentance and obedience that an individual performed as faith grew. According to Mayhew, the "doctrine of the gospel undoubtedly is, that we are justified by faith; but it is a great mistake to infer from hence, that we are accepted to the divine favour, and entitled to eternal life, without unfeigned repentance, and new obedience."123 Such an understanding qualified Mayhew for inclusion in that group of ministers who, as Wright notes, "broke down the sharp contrast which the Calvinists had long made and which the Hopkinsians stressed particularly, between works, which are abominable, and faith, which is gracious."124 Mayhew did more than simply break down the contrast between grace and obedience: He brought them together in a mutually dependent relationship so that, as he put it, "the necessity of the former arises only from the necessity of the latter."125 Indeed, Mayhew realized that he could not retain the traditional vo-

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cabulary of "faith and works" in discussing this matter and expect to clearly transmit to his congregation his intent. He therefore introduced several expressions into his explanation that softened the contrast between faith and works. While always insisting on the necessity for faith, Mayhew substituted the expression "to become the object of God's love" for the works side of the equation. To become the objects of God's love, we must, said Mayhew, "forsake our sins and obey the gospel."126 Mayhew then reconnected justification by faith with the new language for works: "Whatsoever is necessary, in order to our being at peace with God, and becoming the objects of his peculiar love and complacency, is necessary in order to our justification."127 The new, subtler terminology allowed more easily for an appreciation of the bond between faith and works. In a statement that concisely reflects the fundamental principle of his thought as a whole, Mayhew explicitly restated it: The ideas are coincident and mutually imply each other; so that whatever is justified, is at peace with God, and the object of his complacency; and whosoever is thus at peace with God is justified of him. Now these ideas (or these things) being thus coincident, thus inseparable, and thus mutually inferring and implying each other, it is a contradiction to suppose that any-thing should be requisite in order to one, which is not equally requisite in order to the other.128 Having redefined works to demonstrate the symbiosis between works and faith, Mayhew then argued that faith should be likewise understood in a more "comprehensive" sense as "uprightness of heart." To have "uprightness of heart" did not mean that one was suddenly perfected, forever justified. It meant, rather, freedom from habitual sinning. In this way Mayhew legislated out the understanding that faith was the final, ultimate means of justification. According to Mayhew, one should understand Faith, in that comprehensive way in which the word is often used in scripture; i.e., as including uprightness of heart towards God, which every man is either possessed of, or not. So that every man either wholly keeps, or wholly breaks the covenant of grace. This uprightness, or sincerity towards God, is opposed to perfection on the one hand, and both to refined hypocrisy, and presumptuous on the

other. It is the medium betwixt them. No sincere Christian is perfect; no one is an habitual transgressor at any one point.129 Similarly, in the matter of the relation of faith to works, Chauncy sought to invalidate the common distinction. Chauncy began by draw-

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ing a clear line between salvation by faith ("gospel") and salvation by the merits of one's endeavors ("law"). He wrote: "The obtainment of life by law, and the obtainment of it by grace, are absolutely incompatible with each other."130 Chauncy then began to shift his ground to frame an argument exactly opposed to this. If scripture says that salvation is to be had by obedience to the law, but also says that it may be had by faith, that is clearly a contradiction, because "two opposite and inconsistent dispensations would be in force at the same time."131 Such a conflict clearly could not be the intent of scripture: The plain truth is, sinners for whom a Savior has been provided, and a method contrived and revealed conformably to which they are within the possibility of obtaining life, can't be supposed to be under a dispensation of meer law, or in such circumstances as "they must die if they sin," and can't live but by "their perfect righteousness" in obedience to the law. This would be to suppose it both possible, and impossible, for them to be saved. It would be to place them under dispensations quite opposite to, yea, absolutely subversive of each other.132 The way to make sense of this, according to Chauncy, was to understand that the intent of scripture is not always clearly expressed in the language of scripture: "It is an undisputed maxim, that in explaining the scripture, regard is always to be had to the MEANING of words, and not their meer sound."133 If one looks beyond the simple vocabulary of justification, it will be obvious that faith and works are not in conflict at all, but that each supports the other: "The plain truth is, 'law' and 'gospel' mutually illustrate each other."134 To prove this point Chauncy considered the New Testament writings of Paul and James on justification. Noting that Paul seemed to emphasize faith and James to emphasize works, Chauncy observed that "this seeming contradiction has strangely puzzled expositors."135 But an expositor need only look beyond words to the ideas that they truly express to realize that there is not "any contradiction between them here, unless we attend only to the sound of their words, and not the ideas conveyed by them."136 Displaying his faith in the wholeness of creation, Chauncy declared that "it does not appear to me to require any great degree of attention, to perceive that these apostles were perfectly of the same mind, and spoke precisely the same thing, however it may look at the first glance."137 Chauncy argued that by emphasizing human endeavor, James was merely explaining that faith must not be a "dead faith," but must bring with it good works. The starting point for any teaching on justification was, for James, faith. The language about works in James was, argued

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Chauncy, only a further description of the nature of that faith, as one that engendered good works. "This explanation of the apostle James," offered Chauncy, "makes out a connection, and a consistency, in his whole discourse, upon this head of faith and justification."138 For Chauncy there was no question that scripture was consistent. It was only a matter of discerning the "connection" that was not clear from the "words." The doctrine ofjustification according to James was identical to that set forth by Paul: Far from contradicting what he [Paul] says, he really means the same thing; Nor can his words be understood, so as to oppose the apostle Paul, unless they are interpreted in a sense that will destroy the coherency of his discourse and make him a loose, weak, and unconnected writer; which would be far from reflecting honor on him.139 For Chauncy, it was another case of seemingly opposite elements being proven to be utterly consistent: "There is no contradiction, not the least inconsistency, between the apostles, Paul and James, wherein they may seem to oppose each other, with respect to the affair of justification."140 Having made a connection between faith and works in his discussion of Paul and James, Chauncy returned to his more general treatment of the matter and concluded: "Instead of denying faith to be a work, I avow it to be one."141 To downplay the polarity of meaning which, traditionally, the words "faith" and "works" implied, Chauncy offered a new term, "duty," which expressed the close relationship between the two. Faith was a duty, and was therefore a work as well: Whenever we believe, if therein we have our eye to God (as we must have, or our faith will be of no value) we pay religious honor to him, by doing a duty he has required of us; by thus doing a duty, we do that which is a work, and may, with as much propriety, be so called, as any other act of obedience that we perform.142 Faith and works were never exactly the same for Chauncy. Though each could be called a duty and for that reason was very much like the other, an element of tension nevertheless remained in their relationship. They did not connote exactly the same idea, but they "mutually illustrated each other," each functioning to help disclose the meaning of the other. Twenty-five years before this statement on faith and works, Chauncy had reasoned to the same conclusion by different means. In The New Creature (1741), Chauncy concerned himself with the effect of grace on the individual, and the difficulty he encountered in explaining this

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phenomenon centered on the question of the immediacy of the results of the bestowal of grace. It is illustrative of Chauncy's way of thinking about such matters in 1741, as well as in the decades that followed, that he chose a "metaphorical" text to explain the effects of grace: "In the text, 'tis spoken of under the metaphor of a new creature."143 The first part of the sermon Chauncy devoted to a lengthy description of the extent of change wrought in an individual by grace. He emphasized repeatedly that the change was complete. He who receives grace has "a great change wrought in him; And this so great that he is a quite different sort of man; so unlike to what he was, that he is not unfitly stil'd a new creature."144 Chauncy wrote that this change "'tis indeed a universal change. Their whole inner man is altered. . . . There is a change in their affections. And 'tis an entire one." 145 There is "a thorow change affected in the purposes of their heart." 146 Chauncy emphasized that the whole person was transformed: Such a change now as this, so great and universal, extending to the whole inner man, is effected in men when they are made true Christians: And is it any wonder, on this account, they are spoken of, in the text, as new creatures. . . . And the change in their lives is as great as the change in their hearts. Their manner of behaviour is so unlike what it was, so new and different, that they don't appear the same persons, and one would scarce take them to be the 147 same. Chauncy stressed that these transformed persons "will not now, upon any terms, commit those follies they were once free to indulge themselves in," and he added that it was a change "not only from sin, but to holiness. Those who are created anew not only amend their ways and their doings; but obey the voice of the LORD. They not only deny ungodliness and worldly lusts; but live soberly, righteously and godly in the world. " 148 Most important, this change was not a change of degree, from one level to one slightly higher, but a total, qualitative change: It does not mean a meer change in the outward behaviour; much less a change from these or those particular sins, arising only from a change in age or condition in life; it does not hereby mean going over from one opinion to another. . . . I say, the scripture, by the new creature does not mean such things as these. It hereby means that glorious change whereby men are turned from darkness to light149 In the second part of the sermon, having explained that the change in the "new creature" was complete, from sinfulness to godliness and light, Chauncy began to argue instead for a much more moderate understanding of the effects of grace. He suggested that "Grace imitateth nature, in

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beginning usually, with small degrees, and growing up to maturity by leisurely proceeding."150 Chauncy explicitly warned that one must not "over-value" one's "first grace and knowledge."151 The new creature, changed by grace from darkness to light, was now spoken of with considerably less enthusiasm: "Look about you, and observe, whether those that are men of knowledge, did obtain it by infusion in a moment? Or whether they did not obtain it by diligent study, by slow degrees?"152 Having accentuated in the first part of the sermon the extent of change in the new creature, he now downgraded it: "And Think not the measure of your first endowments to be greater than it is; but remember that you are yet in your infancy, and must expect growth and ripeness as a consequence of time and diligence."153 Certainly, Chauncy's purpose here was to distinguish his position from that of the revival preachers, most of whom considered conversion the ultimate Christian experience. In 1741 the revival was peaking, and the excesses Chauncy described in Seasonable Thoughts (1743), and especially the accusations against "unconverted" ministers, were becoming apparent. Chauncy found himself in the position of having to acknowledge the transforming effects of grace while at the same time denying that the final measurement of a Christian life was conversion. Though he accepted conversion as an "entire, universal" change in a person, he still insisted that a Christian advanced only "by degrees" toward perfection. For persons accustomed to the cleaner "either/or" conversion-centered theology of the revival, such a position was not easy to understand. Chauncy's choice of a text upon which to preach his understanding of the regenerate life was appropriate to his task. The metaphor of "new creature" was an image that connected the newness that came with conversion to the creatureliness of the human condition which yet remained, and which necessitated further striving. In The Out-pouring of the Holy Ghost (1742) Chauncy argued again for the importance of improvement after conversion. In the year since he had preached on the "new creature" he had perhaps realized that even this "metaphor" did not fully express his understanding of the regenerate life. He thus reemphasized that even after the infusion of grace, "men remained men," conditioned as always by the circumstances of their existence and the nature of the powers with which they were endowed. This much we know in general, that in new making men, the Divine SPIRIT acts in, and upon them, in a way suited to their nature as Men, in a way that agrees with their character as moral agents. He so manages the matter, as that they are changed into new men, in a manner perfectly harmonizing with their several powers.154 Chauncy was certain that the infusion of divine grace, though it brought about a new person, did not negate the necessity of striving

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toward moral perfection. Exactly how this process worked, how grace "made men new" but yet harmonized perfectly with their nature as persons so as not to undermine the necessity for their conscious judgments as "moral agents," could not be known. Persons were both completely changed and yet unchanged. Somehow it happened, but the details of this process were a mystery: But to say precisely how the HOLY GHOST enlightens the mind, and then captivates the will, and then preserves the affections and passions in due harmony, and conducts the life in the way of holiness; these things, I say, are difficulties in the dispensation of grace: And as they are such, the less we puzzle ourselves or others about them, the better.155 It should be pointed out that Mayhew was, like Chauncy, aware of the range and purposes of rhetorical devices in argument, and especially of their uses in scripture. He wrote about "allegory" and "double meaning" in the psalms.156 Confronted with a scriptural passage that seemed "contradictory," he claimed that it "must not be understood literally, but figuratively."157 In his sermon on Luke 13:24 ("Strive to enter in at the strait gate") he set out to show "to what our Saviour alludes in the text, and why he uses this metaphor."158 Unable to give more than a very general explanation of the passage, Mayhew emphasized the role of metaphors in scripture to suggest its meaning, pointing out that "Our Saviour, who certainly knew everything relating to this affair, enjoins us to 'strive.' . . . And there are divers metaphors used in scripture, relative to this matter, which naturally suggest the same thing to us: Particularly those of'wrestling,' 'running,' and 'fighting.'"159 For Mayhew, life was sometimes more than metaphor and dialectic: It was drama.160 In one argument he refers to "the great drama of the world," and in another to "this great theatre of the universe."161 Drama was, however, always balanced by "systematic" order, and Mayhew in various writings refers in particular to the "system of religion."162 In a world of differences, Mayhew sensed coherence. It should not be supposed, however, that Mayhew sought only to mediate contrary ideas into tame compromise (though occasionally this may have happened). Mayhew occasionally argues that there is "no medium" in a particular problem or situation. His purpose in so doing is to make clear that no matter how close two ideas may come to each other they will retain their own separate identities and properties.163 Mayhew's discussion of good and evil more clearly illustrates this symbiotical character of his thought. In Seven Sermons, Mayhew organized his thought into three parts, and explained these in the beginning of the volume as follows:

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I. That there is a natural difference between truth and falsehood, right and wrong. II. That men are naturally endowed with faculties proper to the discerning of those differences. III. and lastly, That men are under the obligation to exert these faculties; and to judge for themselves in matters of a religious concern.164 At the foundation of his argument, then, was the proposition that right and wrong, good and evil, were utterly distinct. Moreover, Mayhew insisted that this distinction was a crucial foreword to any discussion of morality. Good and evil were as different as black and white, and this difference formed the only basis upon which any consideration of right and wrong in human action could be made. But in spite of the fact that all persons were endowed with faculties to detect this difference, they do not always appear to do so. May hew therefore asked why, if right and wrong were so clearly opposed to one another, do people sometimes choose to do wrong. He replied that the answer lay in considering "the difficulty there is, in some cases, to determine the boundaries of right and wrong."165 He pointed to "the variety of opinions that have prevailed in the world concerning questions of right, especially in political affairs; and the different, yea, contrary laws, enacted by wise men in different ages, and countries, and all equally under the notion of their being right and equitable."166 In order to demonstrate the complexity of the issue, Mayhew borrowed a metaphorical statement of the problem from Samuel Clarke, explaining how "extremes" sometimes "run one into the other," while all the while remaining utterly different from each other. But (to use the words of a learned writer) as in painting, two very different colours, by diluting each other very slowly and gradually, may, from the highest intenseness, in either extreme, terminate in the midst insensibly; and so run one into the other, that it shall not be possible even for a skillful eye to determine exactly where one ends and the other begins and yet the colours differ as much as can be, not in degree only, but intirely in kind, as red and blue, or white and black, so though perhaps it may be difficult in some nice and perplext cases (which yet are very far from occurring frequently) to define exactly the bounds of right and wrong, just and unjust, and there may be some latitude in the judgement of different Men, and the laws of divers nations; yet right and wrong are nevertheless totally and essentially different; even altogether as much as white and black, light and darkness.167 On this basis, Mayhew concluded that certain actual questions of morals are "so intricate and complicated, that it is difficult, or even imposs-

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ible, to determine them."168 But for humankind, whose cosmic domain was "the middle of things," this should not be surprising; and it should likewise be understood that just as good and evil, right and wrong, are often not clearly separated in the human mind, so too is their appearance on a larger scale often a kind of "mixture." In a thanksgiving sermon for the military victories in Canada in 1759, Mayhew observed: "But alas! there is never any great good in this present evil world without some mixture of evil, at least of what seems to us to be so."169 Chauncy agreed with Mayhew that in some instances good and evil cannot be clearly discerned by the human mind, but Chauncy added that these cases in which good and evil seemed to be mixed might be support for the view that good and evil are only "appearances" of opposition in a universe that is in fact utterly coherent. Chauncy's understanding of the matter thus differed from his friend's in that where Mayhew emphasized the difference between good and evil and accepted the fact of their "mixture" in appearance, Chauncy chose to stress that good and evil often appeared to be distinct but were in fact not. For example, in The Benevolence of the Deity Chauncy denied that good and evil were "two independent opposite principles in the universe; the one good, from whom is derived everything that is good; the other evil, from whom is derived everything that is evil, whether natural or moral." Chauncy argued that belief in opposite principles of good and evil "is an opinion so far from being founded on solid proof, that it cannot be supported by solid argument."170 The appearance of evil in the cosmos was only a problem of human inability to see all of the connections: "Shall it then be counted an objection of any weight against the goodness of God's works that we are not able, in every instance, to see wherein they are connected with good?"171 Chauncy argued that the appearance of evil only "surpasses our ability particularly to trace the ways wherein it may tend to good.1*172 God's works were perfectly connected, so that "the defect lies, not in the tendency of God's works, but in our incapacity to connect them together, and view them in reference they have to each other."173 Above all, Chauncy believed that there was a coherence and consistency in the universe, and a "meer" appearance of evil ought to be questioned: What I mean is, that no appearance in nature, capable of being alleged, ought to be looked upon as conclusively arguing an inconsistency with goodness MEERLY or ONLY because we may not be able particularly and fully to point out their consistency with each other. I say meerly or only for this reason, because there is an evident difference between our not particularly discerning wherein the consistency of two things lies, and clearly perceiving that there is a real inconsistency between them.174

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Though Chauncy and Mayhew sought to explain how the principle of balance operated in a coherent universe - how faith and works, reason and the affections, ministerial authority and private judgment were dialectically related pairs - it should not be supposed that they were the only persons to describe the necessity for balance. Even some persons associated with the revival organized at least some of their ideas according to the principle of balance. Though excitement over inwardness and personal spiritual growth was blossoming throughout the colonies, congregations still looked to their pastors for guidance in their day-to-day lives. Moralism was not always replaced by individualism. Sometimes it was tempered and informed by it. Ebenezer Frothingham, who became in the years following the Great Awakening a leading separatist in New England, spoke for the revival clergy as a whole when he tied the personal knowledge of God to the law of God: "The Life of Religion consists in the Knowledge of God, as he reveals himself by his Spirit in his Work, and Conformity to God in the inward Man, which necessarily produces an external conformity to the Holy Laws of God."175 The life of the regenerate individual in society was still a serious matter, and one addressed repeatedly by Edwards, Whitefield, and others. Drawing on the same scriptural passage as had Perkins a century and a half earlier, Whitefield made clear his corporate-mindedness: Society then, we see is absolutely necessary in respect to our personal and bodily wants. If we carry our view farther and consider mankind as divided into different cities, countries and nations, the necessity of it will appear more evident. For how can communities be kept up, or commerce carried on, without society? Certainly none at all, since providence seems wisely to have assigned a particular product to almost each particular country, on purpose, as it were, to oblige us to be social, and hath admirably mingled the parts of the whole body of mankind together, "that the eye cannot say to the hand, I have no need of thee; nor again, the hand to the foot, I have no need of thee."176 Edwards, in The History of the Work of Redemption, evidenced that he

was by no means concerned solely with the individual spirit. For Edwards the kingdom of heaven on earth was to be a markedly social phenomenon. Then all the world shall be united in one amiable society. All nations, in all parts of the world, on every side of the globe, shall then be knit together in sweet harmony. All parts of God's church shall assist and promote the spiritual good of one another. A communication shall then be upheld between all parts of the world to that end; and the art of navigation, which is now applied so much

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to favour men's covetousness and pride, and is used so much by wicked, debauched men, shall then be consecrated to God, and applied to holy uses.177 In An Humble Attempt to Promote Explicit Agreement and Visible Union of

God's People (Boston, 1747) Edwards again suggested that a harmonious Christian society was a much-desired result of religion: How conducent, how beautiful and of good tendency would it be, for multitudes of Christians in various parts of the world, by explicit agreement, to unite in such prayer as is proposed to us. Union is one of the most amiable things that pertains to human society; yea, it is one of the most beautiful and happy things on earth, which indeed makes earth most like heaven.178 Along the same lines, Gilbert Tennent, best known for his inflammatory On the Danger of an Unconvert'd Ministry, in which he proposed that the authority of an unconverted minister was invalid, declared in 1743 that "Love is the Sinew of Society." Five years later Tennent affirmed that capital punishment was necessary as a defense of social union, lest "all order and government must cease, and the wildest anarchy ensue." Tennent declared: "Union is the Glory of Society, its Safety, and its Strength! . . . without which it soon crumbles into a Chaos of Ruin, dissipates and expires!"179 Tennent's apparent willingness to defend society for the good of society per se suggests the problem that most Calvinists in the mid eighteenth century had to face. The Awakening had arrived suddenly upon them, bringing back with it the current of "experimental" religion that had faded gradually into the background of Puritan theological discourse over the course of the preceding century. Confronted with the phenomenon of sudden, emotional conversion experiences, they struggled to place "experimental" religion back into Christian life. But the balance that the early seventeenth-century Puritans had struck between individualism and communality had been the result of years of gradual transformation and development. As William Haller pointed out, the system whereby the individual and society were brought together in Puritanism had evolved slowly through several generations of Reformation preaching and scholarship. He argued that Puritanism, as a religious and social phenomenon, was less a "revolution" than a "gradual transformation": We do not detract from the honor due them when we suggest that perhaps they were less the authors than the symptoms of a disturbance that at its own pace under the impulsion of more patient men, aided by circumstance, was slowly but surely breaking up the ancient pattern of English life. The force of revolutionary

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movements most truly shows itself in the gradual transformation of the imaginative ideals, of the habits of thought and expression, of the moral outlook and modes of expression of whole classes of people. Puritanism was such a movement.180 The balance that Puritans believed they had attained between the individual and society came about in stages as they responded to changing historical circumstances by refining their theories. New Englanders did not have the luxury of time to fashion new theories. Faithful in their commitment to the importance of the social order, as Puritans, for the most part, had always been, but forced to reestablish in a drastic way the importance of the individual within that social order, New England pastors were confounded. They affirmed the importance of both the individual and society, but they had great difficulty connecting the two in a way that would not give priority to either. Perhaps the most effective attempts were those that understood moral "external" behavior as proceeding from regenerate "internal" status. But most often, any commentary beyond that evolved rapidly into a nearmystical explanation of how regenerate Christians "naturally" perform morally in specific social situations. Edwards's Nature of True Virtue exemplifies this pattern of thought. In this highly sophisticated and often confusing work, Edwards proposed that there was a moral order, based on "Beauty," as evident in the universe as there were physical "laws of nature." Because of the "consent of things to other things," the person who had experimental knowledge of God's glory, and thus was in intimate contact with "Beauty," was inclined to consent to "Beauty" in the rest of his experience, be it personal or social.181 Aside from the matter of its adequacy, such a theory was no doubt communicated only with considerable effort. Not surprisingly, preachers thus generally chose not to tackle the problem directly, but used metaphorical expressions to describe the role of the regenerate individual in society. Typical is Whitefield's reliance on the phrase "loose from the world" to describe the manner in which individual pursuit of salvation had to be balanced with social life. No, the religion of Jesus is a social religion. But though Jesus Christ does not call us to go out of this world, shut up our shops, and leave our children to be provided for by miracles; yet this must be said to the honour of Christianity, if we are really converted, we shall be loose from the world.182 In general, social theories that New Lights proposed in the several decades after the Awakening might themselves be considered "loose" as far as concerned their ability to make sense of colonial social relations. This is not to say that there was no social theory, but rather that it was by

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necessity expressed through metaphor and association of ideas, rather than in a straightforward and systematic way. Richard L. Bushman, calling the 1750s and 1760s "a period of experimentation in social theory," comments that the theories born in this era were projections of personal methods for dealing with life and without strict correspondence to party lines. . . . Important centers of feeling and thought can be identified, but few pronouncements on social theory were pure expressions of a single conception.183 Realization of the profound social disruptions that the Awakening brought generated a new respect for the complexity and the fragility of the social order, and most persons felt qualified to suggest only in the vaguest terms how it functioned. Most New Lights would have agreed with Samuel Davies when he wrote in 1761: "Civil society is so complicated a system, and includes so many remote, as well as intimate connections, References, and Dependencies, that the least Irregularity or Defect, in the minutest Spring, may disorder and weaken the whole machine."184 Though many of the ideas of Chauncy and Mayhew (and other leading liberals) were the product of the gradual shift toward rationality within New England Puritanism, this shift was still in its early stages at the time of the Great Awakening in the 1740s. Accordingly, in responding to the religious and social crises that came with the Awakening, Chauncy and Mayhew were forced to articulate a theological standpoint that was not as precise as some persons may have wished. It may be that liberal thinking as a whole missed a step or two in its evolution toward an articulate, systematic statement of the relationship between the personal and social components of human life. Alan Heimert has criticized liberals repeatedly for their "evasiveness" and imprecision, complaining that "curiously enough, American rationalism seems not to have been given to logical or semantic precision."185 But, like the revivalists, liberals were forced to confront issues that appeared suddenly in the course of the Awakening. In responding to those issues, neither evangelicals nor rationalists had the time to bring together the loose ends of their theories in such a way as to give "logical or semantic precision" to their statements. In the thinking of both Calvinists and liberals in mid-century America, there is thus a tension between the individual and society. Individualism, be it rooted in rationalism or experimental piety, or both, collided with the necessity for social order. Liberals, though accused of evasiveness and imprecision, managed to construct a theory of social order that took seriously both the individual and the collective. The tension remained, but the theory was coherent. For Chauncy and Mayhew, a "medium" or a "middle way" was the

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correct path between two "extremes." This middle way corresponded with a sense of the dialectical, even symbiotic, workings of the universe and, as Mayhew wrote, included "a firm belief of God's being and perfections, his moral government and universal providence, agreeably to the light of nature, or natural reason, and to the express doctrine of holy scripture; for these do not contradict, but mutually confirm and illustrate each other."186 Religion in mid-eighteenth-century America was in a state of flux. Reason, the affections, morality, authority, the individual, the collective: All of these terms describe phenomena that crashed together in the aftermath of the Awakening. Indeed, religion in the American colonies, and especially in New England, in the period between the Great Awakening and the Revolution, is best characterized as being in a state of in-betweenness. Like the porch that is both inside and outside the house, the religious predicament of Americans was one of suspension between very different sets of ideas. This "bifarious nature" of American life in the mid eighteenth century was by no means limited to religion. Political thought, as well, was in a state of flux, straining under the pressure of two seemingly contradictory theories. Like religion, colonial thinking about government was in general characterized by an uncertainty about the relation of the individual to the collective. Problems in political thought thus dovetailed with those in religion, and compounded the quality of in-betweenness in the life of Americans.

Chapter 3

Government: liberty balanced with deference

In religion, the mid-eighteenth-century New England mind focused on personal religious experience/private judgment as related to morality/ church leadership. In colonial political thought, the relation of liberty to authority was seen as the critical issue. The Independent Reflector addressed the matter thus in 1753: For by admitting the Rationality of Man, you necessarily suppose him a free Agent. And as no political Institutions can deprive him of his Reason, they cannot by any Means destroy his native Privilege of acting freely. It may perhaps be asked, how Mankind in this View, can possibly be bound by the Laws of Society?1 Indeed, it might be asked how Americans, overwhelmed by a mass of unsorted political ideas, might even have begun to answer the question posed by the Reflector. Pulled one way in their thinking by a deepening mistrust of power, and pulled another way by their longstanding habit of deference to the "better Sort," colonists generally shifted uneasily from one position to the other. Typical is the case of the Independent Reflector. The essay for the week of January 25, 1753, declared: "It is impossible for a Man devoid of Merit, to be elevated to an eminent Post; or, for superior Worth to languish in Obscurity and Indigence." Commenting in particular on British politics, the Reflector continued: It affects me with singular Pleasure, to reflect, by Way of Illation, that all our Officers are Men of Skill and Capacity, and that none of them have been guilty of this political Simony, of purchasing their Posts; because that would suppose our Superiors to have acted contrary to Law; which would be the height of Absurdity, and a most ill-mannerly Reflection.2 59

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But such trust in one's social "superiors" was undermined by the essay of September 20, 1753, entitled "The Vanity of Birth and Titles; with the Absurdity of Claiming Respect without Merit." Here, the Reflector maintained that "Honours are seldom dispensed according to Merit. Sometimes the Caprice of a Prince raises a Man to the highest Offices in the State." Noting that "the Way of Eminence is not always open to personal Worth," the Reflector outright challenged the status of "Birth" and "Station": "Again, were Men only respected in proportion to the real Dignity of their Characters, greater would be the number of those who had Merit. But when every worthless Wretch is reverenc'd on account of his Birth or Station, what Wonder is it, to find real Desert so great a Rarity."3 As Richard L. Bushman has argued, the Great Awakening and the social dislocations associated with it contributed significantly to the reappraisal of traditional forms of authority in the colonies.4 But even before the Awakening, Americans had gradually been reorienting themselves toward the idea of civil authority, and a part of that was owing to their readings of English Whig political writers. The message of these writers, and the premise fundamental to all Whig political thought, was that "power encroaches." An example of such writing is Cato's Letters, a collection of letters from the pens of John Trenchard and Thomas Gordon.5 Published in The London Journal between 1720 and 1723, "Cato" continually warned of the aggressive and greedy tendencies in the nature of power. A letter entitled "Cautions against the Natural Encroachments of Power" stated that "it is natural for Power to be striving to enlarge itself, and to be encroaching on those who have none." Cato warned that "human Society had often no enemies so great as their own Magistrates; who, where ever they were trusted with too much power, always abused it." Another letter, affirming that "it is the Nature of Power to be ever encroaching," gave the following bleak history lesson: "We know, by Infinite Examples and Experience, that Men possessed of Power, rather than part with it, will do anything, even the worst and the blackest, to keep it."6 In American hands, this notion of power was expressed in even more graphic terms. In 1735, in his defense of Peter Zenger against the charge of libel, Andrew Hamilton addressed the New York court as follows: Power may be justly compared to a great river, while kept within its bounds, is both beautiful and useful; but when it overflows its banks, it is then too impetuous to be stemmed, it bears down all before it and brings destruction and desolation wherever it comes. If then this is the nature of power, let us at least do our duty, and like wise men (who value freedom) use our utmost care to support

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liberty, the only bulwark against lawless power, which in all ages has sacrificed to its wild lust and boundless ambition the blood of the best men that ever lived.7 As Caroline Robbins, J. G. A. Pocock, Bernard Bailyn, and others have shown, a critical attitude toward power was woven throughout into Whig designs for government.8 Popular works such as Cato's Letters pointed out the dangers of the abuses of power, both theoretical and actual, and functioned as gadflies, of sorts, in alerting Britons on both sides of the Atlantic to the corrupted state of the English government. But a large body of Whig writings was devoted to constructive commentary - "the science of politics," as some were starting to call it - that analyzed English society and politics and proposed the means whereby the rights guaranteed in the constitution would be protected from a tyrant's absolutist wishes. These theories illustrate the extent to which mistrust of power permeated Whig thought, and fill out the nuances of the political vision that colonists were absorbing. In 1766 Jonathan Mayhew wrote that he had been "initiated, in youth, into the doctrines of civil liberty, as they were taught by such men . . . as Sidney and Milton, Locke and Hoadly."9 To these may be added Robert Molesworth, Henry St. John Viscount Bolingbroke, Henry Neville, James Harrington, and Trenchard and Gordon as the primary Whig influences on colonial political thinking.10 Influenced by these writers, Mayhew became outspoken in his condemnation of unbridled power and in his criticism of the machinery of English government. Mayhew pointed out that power, by its encroaching nature, tended to an extreme situation in which individual rights and liberties were destroyed. In a sermon preached just after the repeal of the Stamp Act, Mayhew stated: Power is of a grasping, encroaching nature, in all beings, except in Him, to whom it emphatically "belongeth"; . . . Power aims at extending itself, and operating according to mere will, where-ever it meets with no ballance, check, controul, or opposition of any kind. For which reason it will always be necessary, as was said before, for those who would preserve and perpetuate their liberties, to guard them with a wakeful attention; and in all righteous, just, and prudent ways, to oppose the first encroachments on them.11 As Bernard Bailyn has demonstrated, fear of an English program to establish an American bishopric was closely related to the fear of political tyranny.12 Many colonists, including Mayhew, vowed resistance to "any illegal encroachments or usurpations, whether as to things spiritual or temporal."13 In Popish Idolatry, Mayhew emphasized in particular the need to guard against religious "slavery" with

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a defense of our laws, liberties, and civil rights as men, in opposition to the proud claims and encroachments of ecclesiastical persons, who under the pretext of religion and saving men's souls, would engross all power and property to themselves, and reduce us to the most abject slavery.14 Because power encroached, it was necessary that persons be vigilant in defending their rights. In The Snare Broken Mayhew declared: "History, one may presume to say, affords no example of any nation, country, or people long free, who did not take some care of themselves: and endeavour to guard and secure their own liberties."15 In his Discourse on Unlimited Submission Mayhew had already supplied the historical example, pointing out that resistance to Charles I was "a most righteous and glorious stand, made in defence of the natural and legal rights of the people, against the unnatural and illegal encroachments of arbitrary power."16 In 1766, he was applying the lesson to the colonies: "To go on then, the colonies are better than ever apprized of their own weight and consequence, when united in a legal opposition to any unconstitutional, hard and grievous treatment."17 The outline of this argument Mayhew had set forth a year earlier, in the summer of 1765. Mayhew first distinguished among six kinds of liberty. The first five he listed as follows: 1. Philosophical liberty 2. Gracious liberty, given in regeneration 3. What is commonly called religious liberty, or that natural right which every man has to worship God as he pleases, provided his principles and practices are not prejudicial to others 4. liberty, or freedom from the ceremonial law, which law is considered in Scripture as a yoke and burthen to those who were under it. 5. that liberty which every man has, in what is commonly called a state of nature, or antecedent to the consideration of his being a member of civil society; consisting in a right to act as he pleases, in opposition to being bound by any human laws; always provided, that he violates no laws of God, nature, or right reason, which no man is at liberty to do.18 Civil liberty, the sixth kind, Mayhew explained in greater detail. Mayhew claimed that natural liberty was antagonistic to civil liberty: "They who continue in that, which is usually termed a state of nature, can with no propriety be said to enjoy civil liberty."19 The reason for this is that without the "restraint of laws," the exercise of natural liberty leads to extremes of self-interest, "one extreme leading to another," down to the

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final result of "slavery itself," a condition "seemingly the most opposite thereto."20 Mayhew claimed that "people do not enjoy civil liberty, where each individual does what is right in his own eyes, without any regard to others. This is a state of anarchy and confusion."21 It was thus necessary that persons give up some of their natural rights, so that a balance could be established between "the liberty which every man has" and civil liberty: "Men, for the sake of the common good, and mutual security, give up part of their natural liberty."22 This statement is extremely important for understanding Mayhew's political vision. Mayhew despised Hobbes and Filmer as "betrayers of the rights and liberties of their country," and explicitly acknowledged his debt to Locke, so it is reasonable to assume that he drew on Locke for his ideas about liberty and especially the social contract.23 The theory of social contract, as proposed by Locke, rested on the premise that persons forgo their natural rights so that the good of society as a whole may be legislated. Locke added, however, that the purpose of this was, in fact, to ensure that each person's own property was safeguarded and preserved: But though men when they enter in society give up the equality, liberty and executive power they had in the state of Nature into the hands of society, to be so far disposed of by the legislative as the good of society shall require, yet it being only with an intention in every one to better preserve himself, his liberty and property . . ,24 Locke thus left the door open for an understanding of government in which self-interest could still play a part. Mayhew's statement suggests just such an understanding. Mayhew was careful to add "and mutual security" to the first part of the statement, thereby implying that such a reason for giving up one's natural liberty was at least a shade different from the other reason, "for the sake of the common good." In the second part of the statement, Mayhew wrote that it was only necessary that one give up "part" of one's natural liberty, a proposition significantly different from Locke's idea of political society as one in which "every one of the members hath quitted the natural power."25 For Locke, a person did not give up just a "part" of his natural liberty, but all of it. Mayhew's use of "part" and his inclusion of the phrase "and mutual security" indicate that he left a place for individual interest in his theory of government. Indeed, in The Snare Broken this side of the theory was boldly stated: "Self-preservation being a great and primary law of nature, and to be considered as antecedent to all civil laws and institutions, which are subordinate and subservient to the other."26 Though Charles Chauncy was not as outspoken as his friend at West Church, he was certainly a forward-looking thinker. Alice Baldwin referred to Chauncy as "the friend of Samuel and John Adams and of other

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Revolutionary leaders, one of the most ardent and influential in the American cause,"27 and Martha L. Counts considers Chauncy's 1747 election sermon on the ruler as the protector of civil rights to be the clearest statement of such a theme in eighteenth-century Massachusetts.28 Indeed, Civil Magistrates Must Be Just (1747) was criticized so heavily by the General Court that there was some question over whether its publication would be permitted.29 Chauncy's sermon began - as did many seventeenth- and eighteenthcentury political writings - with a discussion of anarchy in the "state of nature." Chauncy argued that laws were necessary to control inevitable conflicts of interest: "Was there no civil rule among men, but that every one might do which was right in his own eyes, without restraint from human laws, there would not be safety anywhere on the earth."30 The grave danger to individuals and to their property in a state of nature was underscored by Chauncy's claim that such conflicts originated in sin: "Government is rendered a matter of necessity by the introduction of sin into the world."31 Because of sin, "mutual defence" was necessary, and this involved giving up a portion of one's liberties and then centralizing power as much as was necessary to protect the liberties that remained: The present circumstances of the human race are therefore such, by means of sin, that 'tis necessary they should, for their mutual defence and safety, combine together in distinct societies, lodging as much power in the hands of a few, as may be sufficient to restrain the irregularities of the rest, and keep them within the bounds of a just decorunie32 Accordingly, government was for Chauncy more than "a mere human institution. " 33 Because it is an aspect of God's order for the universe, "order and rule in society, or, what means the same thing, civil government," are of divine origin.34 Chauncy was careful to point out, however, that civil government was not to be understood simplistically, as absolute authority founded upon real differences among men. Civil government reflects the principles of balance and wholeness upon which the cosmos itself is ordered, that is, "it originates in the reason of things, their mutual relations to and dependencies on each other, as if he [God] uttered his voice from the excellent glory, and in this way, primarily, he declares his will respecting a civil subordination among men. "35 "Mutual dependency" was the key to Chauncy's vision of government. Although government demanded a degree of subordination to "superiors," it also allowed for the exercise of a certain amount of self-interest (e.g. private ownership of property), and it made possible the promotion of a common good. Chauncy wrote that the end of civil government was "the general good of mankind; . . . to guard men's lives; to secure their rights;

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to defend their properties and liberties; to make their way to justice easy; . . . and, in general, to promote public welfare. "36 Government operated for "the general welfare and prosperity of the people."37 Rulers were to have a "regard to the community, to which they are related; whose welfare is so dependent hereon."38 They must "be instrumental in doing good service to the public. " 39 In short, government could require deference to superiors, but it must balance this with respect for the good of society as a whole, and the recognition of individual liberties and property. Only in this way - through a balance between power and purposes - could the encroachment of power be resisted. Fear of the encroachment of power and trust in the capability of a "balanced" government to care for the common good as well as to allow for individual interest form the core of what Pocock calls the "Country" vision of English politics. Writers of this school - which included Sidney, Hoadly, Locke, and Bolingbroke, among others - were the chief influences upon the formation of American theories of government in the eighteenth century. The political ideas of Mayhew and Chauncy, if they are to be fully appreciated, must be considered against this background of thought provided by the Country writers. With "all power corrupts" as its motto, the Country ideology consisted essentially in the defense of independent property against the power of the court. Pocock summarizes the main points: Society is made up of court and country; government, of court and Parliament; Parliament, of court and country members. The court is the administration. The country consists of men of independent property. . . . The business of Parliament is to preserve the independence of property, on which is founded all human liberty. . . . The business of administration is to govern, and this is a legitimate activity; but to govern is to wield power, and power has a natural tendency to encroach. It is more important to supervise government than support it.40 Supervision of the government, for James Harrington (1611-77) and for all Whigs who came after him, meant, at the very least, balancing power with property. In The Commonwealth ofOceana (1656) Harrington proposed that there were three kinds of government: rule by the one, the few, or the many. When these forms of government "rule with a view to the commonweal," they are, respectively, kingship, aristocracy, and polity. When they "look to the advantage of one section only," they are called tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy.41 Harrington was concerned, essentially, with explaining how the form of government was related to property ownership in a society. Specifically, he argued that the distribu-

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tion of property ownership - whether it be land, money, or goods - was related to the form of government, and that changes in ownership were directly related to changes in form of government, whether those involved, for example, a change from kingship to tyranny or from kingship to polity or aristocracy. In a stable government, wrote Harrington, the distribution of property ownership correlated with the location of political power. Thus, "if one man be sole landlord of a territory, or overbalance the people, for example, three parts in four," that man has the power to dominate and is the king. If the few, "or a nobility, or a nobility with the clergy be landlords, or overbalance the people to the like proportion," the government is an aristocracy. And if "the whole people be landlords, or hold the land so divided among them that no man, or number of men, within the few or the aristocracy overbalance them," such an arrangement is called a polity, or commonwealth. If a change in the distribution of property was not accompanied by a corresponding adjustment in the form of political rule, instability would come about. In such a case, the old rule must eventually be overthrown by those who own the greatest share of property.42 Finally, stressed Harrington, it was critical that the ruling element hold a preponderance of the property for a balance to be maintained. If the king should hold only half the property, and the people the other half, such a distribution was not sufficiently decisive for stable government. As each side attempted to overpower the other, the government would become "a very shambles."43 As Pocock has shown, Harrington's equation for political stability that political power must rest with the preponderance of property in order that a "balance" be sustained - set the terms on which all later Whig thought would revolve.44 Henry Neville (1620-94) began with the Harringtonian maxim of the relation of property to power, and interpreted it to explain the specific shortcomings of English government in the period before the Glorious Revolution. In Plato Redivivus (1681) Neville proposed that troubles England was experiencing were directly related to the decline and disappearance of the large estates. The king and his court, though possessed of the political power in England, no longer owned a preponderance of the property, and were therefore not independent. That is, the people no longer depended upon the court as servants must depend upon their masters for food and other necessities. Neville wrote: I will not trouble myself nor you, to search into the particular causes of this change, which has been made in the possessions here in England; but it is visible that the fortieth part of the lands which

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were in the beginning in the hands of the Peers and Church, is not there now; besides that not only all Villanage is long since abolished, but the other Tenures are so altered and qualified, that they signify nothing towards making the Yeomantry depend on the Lords. The consequence is, that the natural part of our Government which is Power, is by means of Property in the hands of the People, whilest the artificial part, or the Parchment, in which the Form of Government is written, remains the same.45 Neville appealed to the "ancient" English constitution under which the civil rights of Englishmen were affirmed. He suggested that legislation be enacted that would protect those rights from the encroaching power of the court and ensure that the interests of the people were properly represented.46 Harrington and Neville provided for their time a sense of how power and property were related in government, and what the proper form of government ought to be, given a particular distribution of property. If it is true, as Pocock suggests, that "the central idea of the Harringtonian balance is that power must not be so distributed that it encroaches on the independence of property," then it should be clear as well that mistrust of power lay at the center of the thinking of Harrington and Neville.47 Neville suggested that measures could be taken to restore the liberties associated with the English constitution, but that this would involve voluntary concessions of power from the court.48 John Milton (1609-78) and Algernon Sidney (1622-83) harbored a considerably deeper mistrust of power than either Harrington or Neville, and were accordingly exceedingly pessimistic about the possibilities of the court voluntarily surrendering any power to the propertied majority of the "country." Milton and Sidney, in addressing specifically the matter of what constituted correct, ethical action when the liberties of the common folk were threatened by a ruler, began by analyzing the relationship between the ruler and the ruled. Along with John Locke (1632-1704), they began by rejecting the notion of the divine right of kings, and argued instead for a conception of government by convention, or "social contract."49 Also, Milton and Sidney concluded that when monarchy became tyranny, rebellion, including execution of the tyrant, was the patriot's duty. In The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates (1649), written shortly after the execution of Charles I, Milton set forth his theory that the people owed nothing to the king, but, in fact, that the king was only the repository of the power entrusted to him by the people. The power of kings and magistrates is nothing else but what is the only derivative, transferred and committed to them in trust from the people to the common good of them all, in whom yet power

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remains fundamentally, and cannot be taken from them without a violation of their natural birthright.50 It followed from this tenet that "since the king or magistrate holds his authority of the people, both originally and naturally for their good in the first place, and not his own, then may the people, as oft as they shall judge it for their best, either choose him or reject him, retain him or depose him."51 The king who misuses the trust of the people ought to be considered a rebel against the laws of the country and executed as such. Quoting Seneca, Milton wrote: "There can be slain / No Sacrifice to God more acceptable / Than an unjust and wicked King."52 Sidney's Discourses on Government (1698) combined notions of contractual government and the corrupting nature of power to argue for the necessity of forcefully removing a tyrant. Writing about the king, Sidney declared that "the power with which he was entrusted" was rooted "in the laws of the land and the customs of England," which predated the Magna Carta.53 Because of these "ancient laws" Englishmen may be sure "that no man has a power over us, which is not given or regulated by them; nor that anything but a new law made by our selves can exempt our kings from the obligation of performing their oaths taken."54 But, noted Sidney, rulers nevertheless attempt to escape their obligations, and, greedy for power beyond that which the law confers, seek to consolidate their position by corrupting public servants with the promise of riches. Discussing the power of kings, Sidney observed: Men are naturally propense to corruption; and if he whose will and interest it is to corrupt them, be furnished with the means, he will never fail to do it. Power, honours, riches and the pleasures that attend them, are the baits by which men are drawn to prefer a personal interest before the public good; and the number of those who covet them is so great, that he who abounds in them will be able to gain so many to his service as shall be sufficient to subdue the rest.55 Like Neville, Sidney believed that "the antient nobility of England," which by virtue of its property had previously balanced the interests of the court, finally had "neither the interests nor the estates" to oppose the Crown. Therefore, they who by corrupting, changing, enervating and annihilating the nobility, which was the principle support of the antient regular monarchy, have driven those who are truly noblemen into the same interest and name with the commons . . . are to answer for the consequences; and if they perish, their destruction is from themselves.56

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Sidney, who was executed in 1683 for alleged complicity in the Rye House Plot, was revered in England and America as a martyr to the cause of liberty. His deep mistrust of power led him, ultimately, to encourage violent rebellion against it. Eighteenth-century radical Whigs enlarged in their writings on the major themes of the seventeenth-century Whigs. 57 Robert Molesworth, in An Account of Denmark (1694), attempted to show how constitutionalism in Denmark had been replaced by an absolute monarchy. The work was intended to be a "case study," of sorts, of the progress of illnesses within a society that eventually lead to a loss of liberty. Linking liberty with health, Molesworth prefaced An Account as follows: Health and Liberty are without dispute the greatest natural blessings mankind is capable of enjoying. . . . Want of Liberty is a Disease in any Society or Body Politick, like want of Health in a particular Person; and as the best way to understand the nature of any Distemper aright, is to consider it in several patients, since the same disease may proceed from different causes, so the Disorders in Society are best perceived by Observing the Nature and Effects of them in our severall Neighbors. 58 Molesworth demonstrated how the loss of balance in government led to the establishment of an absolutist monarchy in Denmark in 1660. The Danish nobles exploited their privilege and strayed from a concern for the common good that was expected of them. The clergy and the common folk then allied with the monarchy against the nobles, offering the king a hereditary (rather than elective) title. When the king consequently overpowered the nobles, and thus removed the only remaining element in Denmark that could balance his power, absolutism began. Molesworth derived many lessons from the history of Denmark, including the long-term dangers to liberty of a poor educational system, but for his readers in England and America the importance of An Account lay overwhelmingly in its example of how balanced government was the only hope against the loss of liberty that an absolutist rule engendered. As Molesworth wrote, "The doctrine of a blind Obedience . . . is the Destruction of the Liberty . . . of any Nation. " 59 Molesworth's Principles of a Real Whig (1711) set forth more systematically the credo of a "Real Whig." First, he was committed to a mixed constitution of the three estates making up the legislature, with the executive power in the hands of the monarch. Secondly, a Real Whig, or "commonwealthman," held to the necessity for the frequent renewal of parliament - every three years or even every year was better than every seven years - so as to keep it independent of the court, which exerted its influence on members by bestowing offices and pensions.

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Thirdly, and especially, in the light of Molesworth's analysis of the Danish downfall from constitutionalism, the real Whig was opposed to a standing army under the control of the Crown. A trained militia was preferable.60 The Anglican bishop Benjamin Hoadly (1675-1761) helped to popularize the notion of government by consent, and, like Milton and Sidney, stressed the right and necessity of deposing a ruler who departed from the limits of the constitution. In The Original and Institution of Civil Government Discuss'd (1710) Hoadly provided an argument based upon biblical evidence that the "patriarchal scheme of government" - the notion that the titles of rulers were sacred because of their connection to Adam and his successors - was faulty and a "pernicious influence . . . upon the present State of the World, and of this Kingdom, in particular, to which we belong."61 Hoadly attempted to prove, in fact, that the origin of civil government was to be located in the concept of consent. Drawing on appropriate passages from the Old Testament, Hoadly invested government by consent with an almost sacred character by suggesting its ancient origins and its legitimation by "the voice of God." Rejecting the notion that God would invest the monarch with "such unlimited power, as destroy the very Ends of all Civil Government," Hoadly wrote: If some Persons take the Liberty of making a long possession, tho' obtained by force, or Fraud, to be the Voice of God; one would think it need not be scandalous for others to make the voluntary agreement of a Community of Men, for their common good, the Voice of God, who approves and confirms everything that is just and reasonable.62 Hoadly summarized the contractual scheme of government as follows: The Beginning and Original of any Society of lesser importance amongst Men, is often a Voluntary Compact, and Agreement: by which Voluntary Compact and Agreement some Powers are frequently devolv'd upon the particular Persons in this Society, for the answering the Ends of it. But still this Compact and Agreement, designed only for the answering the Ends proposed, is Superior to the Will of those Persons; and is the Rule and Direction of their Actions: By which Rule the whole Society still have a right to judge the behaviour of those Persons; and to take care that the Ends of their entring into that Society be answer'd.63 In the writings of Bolingbroke, especially in the essays in The Craftsman in the 1720s and 1730s, the concerns of the whole line of Opposition writers, from Harrington through Trenchard and Gordon, are brought

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together. Pocock, calling Bolingbroke "the last and most spectacular of the neo-Harringtonians," comments that "in his writings of the Craftsman period . . . may be found a full-dress interpretation of English politics and history."64 The essays of this period were published in 1748 in London under the title A Collection of Political Tracts by the Author of the Dissertation upon Parties and, indeed, serve as a review of the preceding seventy-five years of Opposition thinking.65 In "On Bribery and Corruption" Bolingbroke stated the virtues of balanced government: Our Constitution, as now established, is founded on a most excellent Model. We have all the advantages of a brisk Execution from the monarchical Part. From the aristocratical, all the conveniences, which are to be found in that Form of Government; and the Mischiefs which usually attend it, where it is absolute and unconfined, are in a great Measure blunted by the Power of the Commons. This is the Democratical Part of our Constitution. Their share in the Balance is vastly great, as it must be in all good establishments; and thus we partake of all the Benefits and Securities to Liberty, which result from these different Kinds of Government.66 But Bolingbroke was keenly aware of the tendency of the government to drift from the spirit of the constitution. Even the best design for balance in government was liable to prove inadequate against the schemes of those who would corrupt it. In "On the Power of the Prince and the Freedom of the People," Bolingbroke paraphrased Machiavelli on the matter: It is the Nature of all Government to deteriorate. As it grows older, it gradually deviates and flies farther from its first Intention, which is singly the Advantage of Society; till at last it attains such a Degree of Corruption, that its Order becomes entirely inverted; and that Institution, by which the Prince was first only the Servant of the Publick, obliges the Publick to be Slaves to the Prince.67

The particulars by which such a process of corruption came about were explained in "The Freeholder's Catechism." In discussing the check upon the power of the king that the House of Commons provides, it is observed that even that part of the government might be corrupted, and the question is then asked: "Q. How is a Bastard House of Commons Produced?" A. When the People by Terror, Corruption, or other Indirect Means,

chuse such as they otherwise would not chuse; when such as are fairly chosen are not returned; when such as are returned are turned

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out by partial Votes in controverted Elections, and others not fairly chosen set in their Places. Q. How may a House of Commons become Dependent? A. When the Freedom of voting is destroyed by Threatenings, Promises, Punishments, and Rewards; by the open Force of the Government, or the Insults of the Populace; but above all by private Influence; for they, who armed with the Power of the Crown, have many ways of gratifying such as are subservient to their Designs, and many Ways of oppressing such as oppose them, both within the Bounds of the Law.68 In the writings of Bolingbroke the Opposition story of government, from beginning to end, found expression: Government was founded on a contract between ruler and ruled. The best government was a balanced government. Even balanced government degenerated into tyranny of one sort or another. The means by which this occurred was "corruption," the purchase of influence by the Crown. Bolingbroke, like Molesworth, preferred to see a return "to the primitive Purity of the Constitution" through the adoption of specific measures that would limit the encroachment of power in parliament. Specifically, Bolingbroke favored triennial parliaments and "instruction" to representatives by their voting constituencies. But Bolingbroke left open the possibility of outright resistance to the Crown: "We know that we are to defend the Crown with our Lives and our Fortunes, as long as the Crown protects us, and keeps strictly to the Bounds, within which we have confined it. We likewise know that we are to do it no longer."69 But just as there is to be found in Bolingbroke a culmination of the ideas associated with the Real Whig mistrust of power, there is also to be found an altogether different body of ideas, commonly held throughout the Anglo-American world in the early eighteenth century, that centered on the notion of trust in one's "superiors." In this view, rulers were understood to be superior to the ruled not because of the power vested in them by the collective, but because of real differences that set them above the rest of humanity. Accordingly Bolingbroke claimed that the social world consisted of ranks of people arranged into various "stations" with attendant duties and obligations. Thus, social order was characterized by "the multitudes designed to obey, and . . . the few designed to govern." Leaders, "men of more genius than the common herd," emerged to run the government because, according to the principle of the Great Chain of Being, "some men are designed to take care of that government." These persons "are they who engross almost the whole reason of the species; who are born to instruct, to guide and to preserve; who are designed to be the tutors and the guardians of mankind." These persons "were born

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for something better," and must accept their obligation to fill positions of authority. Just as the lower ranks of society must not step out of their places and attempt to leave their subordinate ranks in society, so must the educated and well born not shirk their duties to lead, for "the whole order and system . . . would be disordered and spoiled if any alteration was made in either. "70 Though colonists held a keenly critical view of power and believed that checks upon power were absolutely necessary to ensure liberty, they, like Bolingbroke, could not give up their reverence for the "better sort." They therefore often rather uncritically entrusted the civil government into the hands of "superiors." Of course, this is not to say that a person of good family or of property automatically became a town selectman. But colonists so consistently chose the wealthy for their leaders that historians have commonly used the word "deference" to describe the character of colonial political society. The English historian J. R. Pole comments that the colonial period was pervaded by a belief in and a sense of the propriety of the social order guided and strengthened by principles of dignity on the one hand, and deference on the other. It was, to use the term coined by Walter Bagehot in his account of Victorian England, a deferential society.71 John B. Kirby points out that the colonists' view of politics included the "belief that those who held the largest 'stake in society' should be deferred to by the rest of the population because of their obvious virtues."72 For one reason or another, colonists often overlooked the warnings of Harrington, Molesworth, and others that the collective, property-based power of the common folk not be given over to the "aristocracy," or those persons, much fewer in number, who also collectively held a large portion of the wealth. Elective representation was no remedy for this tendency. As Richard Buel, Jr., argues, deference in colonial politics is evidenced in part by the fact that a delegate of the people was "representative" more in theory than in actual practice: Far from being the humble servant of his constituents, eighteenth century thinkers tended to regard the representative as a quasimagistrate to whose commands constituents owed presumptive obedience. Though rhetorically representation involved a delegation by the people of their powers to the representative, once the representatives had made laws for the people, the people were expected to obey the decisions of their "delegates." Right down until the crisis of independence the New England clergy proceeded to preach obedience to one's political superiors, and representatives

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were as much within the category of "political superiors" as were governors and councilors. 73 Clearly, Bolingbroke's views on society were in sharp contrast to his pronouncements on egalitarian social relations, as Isaac Kramnick observes: "A world with social relations determined by contract had no place for assigned rank; a view of the world that valued individualism and social mobility achieved by acquisition did not accord with Bolingbroke's emphasis on the static and functional ordering of men in society. " 7 4 Americans, like Bolingbroke, held to two seemingly irreconcilable positions. On the one hand, as Bailyn stresses, "the colonists had no doubt about what power was, and about its central, dynamic role in any political system. . . . Tower' to them meant the domination of some men over others, the human control of human life: ultimately, force, compulsion." 75 According to Bailyn, when colonists talked about power, they talked about the reasons to mistrust it: "Most commonly the discussion of power centered on its essential characteristic of aggressiveness: its endless propulsive tendency to expand itself beyond legitimate boundaries. . . . This central thought . . . explained more . . . to them than any other single consideration." 76 But on the other hand, we find in the writings of colonists, as in Bolingbroke's works, strong belief in fixed social rank alongside mistrust of power. Chauncy, for all of his theorizing about personal liberties and the common good, was convinced as well that persons were "variously endowed with capacities, some superior, some inferior," and claimed that "nor could they otherwise have been fitted to fill the place assigned to them in the chain of being."77 Jonathan Mayhew was such an admirer of Hoadly that he plagiarized portions of Hoadly's The Measures of Submission to the Civil Magistrate Considered (1705) to build his own argument for disobeying a tyrant in A Discourse Concerning Unlimited Submission (1750).78 And although Mayhew has frequently been cast as an "apostle of liberty" in the colonies, he nevertheless accepted a hierarchical notion of society: "Consider mankind in general, the main body of the species as they rise. They have always been, now are, and always must be, poor and low in the world." 79 The political theories of Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew are similar to those of Bolingbroke in that they combine two seemingly opposite sets of ideas, namely, the defense of the tradition of deference to one's superiors and insistence upon individual liberty. In Civil Magistrates Must Be Just (1747) Chauncy brought these themes together in a way consistent with his understanding of how God acted in history. It is clear

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that Chauncy believed that God acted through "secondary causes": Earthquakes, for example, were brought about by secondary causes that "concurred" with God's will.80 For the bones of this idea Chauncy was indebted to Newton, and especially to Robert Boyle, who had accepted much of the scientific method based on an atomistic understanding of the cosmos, but yet had not given up belief in final causes, or Divine Providence.81 Chauncy's conception of evil took shape within a framework that connected divine will with "efficient causes" (to use the popular terminology), but in a way oftentimes hidden from human understanding. Chauncy argued that certain events, though seemingly evil, could actually be for good: The effect of the efficient cause may be the damage done by an earthquake, but the result will be beneficial, because God has ordered the universe for good. Conrad Wright thus described Chauncy's scheme as one in which "natural evils are the effect of established laws, whose purpose and tendency are beneficial."82 Such a scheme of secondary cause and divine will was, then, essentially of a dialectical nature, one in which cosmic order emerged in the meeting between worldly evil and eternal good, and one which would be echoed in the next century in Hegel's explicitly dialectical understanding of history as the meeting between spirit and concrete events.83 In explaining his political theory, then, Chauncy used the same sort of reasoning in claiming that "it must be remembered here, a distinction must always be made between government in its general notion, and particular form and Manner ofadministration."84 Just as there was a difference between efficient and material causes in nature, there was for Chauncy a critical difference between the idea of government and its administration: "'Tis easy to distinguish between government in its abstracted notion, and the faithful advantageous administration of it. "85 The significance of such a theory lay in its capacity to allow for a distinction of ends of government, but yet to claim that government was a "whole" always consistent in its ends. Chauncy thus argued that God had ordained superiority in some persons so as to ensure the protection of individuals and their separate interests. However, "it cannot be affirmed, that this or that particular form of government is made necessary by the will of God and reason of things."86 The people in general shall determine which mode of government will best allow for the public good: "The mode of civil rule may in consistency with the public good, admit of variety, and it has, in fact, been various in different nations: Nor has it always continued the same, in the same nation."87 The peculiar circumstances of each community must be considered in deciding what "mode" of government will be most appropriate: "As long as the general ends of society are provided for and secured, the determination may be various, according to the

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circumstances, policies, tempers, and interests of different communities. " 88 Just as the choice of mode of government was left up to the people, "the same may be said of the manner of vesting particular persons with civil power. " 8 9 Chauncy explained that persons are entrusted with power so that they can promote the common good: "The design of that power some are entrusted with . . . is for the general good." The rights of the people in general, not just the concerns of some propertied individuals, were important, so that rulers "must take all proper care to preserve entire the civil rights of a people." The authority of government, ultimately, was ordained by God: "For Kings, and princes and nobles, and all the judges of the earth, are here represented as reigning and ruling by God: Yea, they are stiled the ministers of God; and the powers that be are declared to be ordained of God."90 But, as the purpose of government was to promote the common good, as well as to protect individual property, it was clear to Chauncy that the manner in which a ruler was vested with civil power should make clear the limits of his God-given authority. Most important, it should set forth the boundaries of his authority in such a way as to prevent him from taking advantage of the people in general in order to advance the interests of his own circle. Chauncy affirmed that whatever power they are vested with, 'tis delegated them according to some civil constitution. And this, so long as it remains the constitution, they are bound in justice to conform themselves to: To be sure, they ought not to act in violation of any of its main and essential rights. 91 Chauncy used the example of the British constitution, with its balance of power among three interest groups in society, to clarify this point: The constitution is branched into several parts, and the power originally lodged in it, is divided, in certain measures, to each part, in order to preserve, a balance in the whole. Rulers, in this case, in either branch of the government, are bounded by the constitution, and obliged to keep within the proper limits assigned them; never clashing in the exercise of power, never encroaching upon the rights of each other. . . . As in the British constitution, which devolves the power of the state, in certain proportions, on Kings, Lords, and Commons, they have neither of them a right to invade the province of others, but are required, by the rule of righteousness, to keep severally within their own boundaries, acting in union among themselves, and consistency with the constitution. 92 It was understood that the king, the Lords, and the Commons each had their own interests, but it was assumed that they would act "in

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union" with each other while still remaining within their own bounds. In such a way, no single interest would take precedence over the public good, because "a balance in the whole" would be maintained. Structurally, this explanation of constitutional government coincided with Chauncy's theory of government on a more general level, as a meeting between the "abstract notion" that property was to be protected and the "manner of administration" that would promote the common good. These ends, as Chauncy described them, were essentially different but, like the three estates, were expected to cooperate in bringing about a "whole" government. Mayhew, like Chauncy, upheld the tradition of respect for one's "superiors." While a student at Harvard, Mayhew copied into his notes the following observation drawn from a book in a series entitled Lady's Library: "It is impossible for any Company of People to Subsist any while together, without a Subordination of one to the other." There must be "some kind of Superiority" in order for people to "govern themselves."93 Two decades later, just before the passage of the Sugar Act, Mayhew made a point of passing on the same advice to a new generation of students: "But I must not omit to remind you of the honor and obedience which you owe to your civil superiours."94 But Mayhew did not believe that subordination was the sole organizing principle of political order. In Mayhew's theory of government, private interest was held in tension with the common good. Concern for the security of individual property was balanced by recognition of the importance and necessity of the public welfare. In Mayhew's interpretation of Locke's social-contract theory, this tension is evident. In Mayhew's notes for a sermon preached in March 1759, the "mutual subservience" of the principles of private interest and common good are again evident, this time in a comparison he made between the government of the kingdom of God and civil government. Mayhew began by defining the end of civil government, stressing the "private property" side of the theory: "It will not, I conclude, be denied by any, that the primary and principal End of civil Society, of all government merely human, is the Security of Men's lives and properties, and their mutual Benefit, considered as inhabitants of this Earth. "95 Mayhew's stress on "mutual" again suggests a reciprocal concern among individuals, rather than an abstract "common good." The government of the kingdom of God, on the other hand, aims at "spiritual and eternal good" and is concerned with "morals" and "virtue."96 Having made this distinction, Mayhew stressed repeatedly, in several different ways, that the two governments fit perfectly together. Distinguishing each from its dangerous extreme, he noted the harmony between them: "And the true kingdom of Christ, and civil government, as distinguished from mere tyranny and usurpation, are all the time in

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perfect Harmony."97 Again, qualifying his statement by ruling out extremes, Mayhew pressed the point of the "mutual subservience" of the "worldly and temporal" government and the "moral and eternal" government: It is to be further observed here, that the kingdom of Christ and civil government, as distinguished from the abuses and perversions thereof, do not only not counteract one another, but are subservient to the true interests of each other, mutually affording Aid and Assistance to the accomplishment of their respective Ends; one the worldly and temporal, the other the moral, spiritual, and eternal good of Mankind.98 Mayhew argued that the kingdom of Christ "coincides with the design" of civil government.99 The ends of Christ's laws "perfectly coincide" with the ends of civil laws, although "the means by which these ends are pursued and attained are also different."100 Again, Mayhew claimed that the two modes of government "do not by any means obstruct or oppose each other, but are mutually subservient to each other in attaining their respective ends."101 It is therefore a fact, though it may seem a "paradox," that civil government, whose ends are worldly and temporal, engenders morality in people: The most fundamental Principles of all civil government, tho' you will at first think this a Paradox, are right and moral in their nature; yea, which may seem a greater Paradox still, the laws of civil society in general are such, as tend to . . . actually produce in some measure this moral Effect.102 Mayhew concluded that "almost all civil governments" therefore actually encourage "Virtuous Practice, as a means of strengthening the Body of Society." As Mayhew preached in another sermon, the civil ruler, as the embodiment of the twofold purpose of government, was thus, when one considered the "virtue" and "public good" end of government, similar to a minister: "All civil rulers, as such, are the ordinance and ministers of God; and they are all, by the nature of their office . . . bound to consult the public welfare."103 The civil ruler was also similar to God in that both were "parents." Just as God was the head of a "family of children," so also was the civil ruler a parent. 104 In Two Sermons on the Nature of the Divine Goodness,

Mayhew explained the role of the parent in detail, and in his analogy of that role to the civil ruler, Mayhew emphasized that certain individuals in society must sometimes be punished by the ruler so that the general good may be preserved. Though Mayhew's example explicitly pitted personal

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interest against the common good, his analysis ofjustice in society made it utterly "co-incident" with goodness. Mayhew began by explaining "that in a wise and good earthly parent, there is really no such distinction . . . betwixt goodness and justice, not even in punishing; but the former includes the latter."105 A parent must sometimes discipline a child, but this is always "with a view to the benefit of his other children, or those of the household. . . . In this case, inflicting adequate punishment, or such as is adapted to the good ends proposed, is plainly goodness."106 Mayhew added that in such a case punishment "is so far from being either opposite to, or any thing really distinct from kindness or goodness, that the parent would be less kind and good than he is, if he did not punish."107 Mayhew concluded the discussion of the parental action by stating that "in a good parent . . . there is no such quality as justice, really distinct from goodness; not even in punishing: For it is goodness itself that gives the blow."108 This role of the parent is analogous to the role of the civil ruler: "The same is the case in civil government."109 With the good of his subjects always in mind, the ruler does not "inflict any punishments, but what he considers needful for the support of the government; - if not for the particular good of those that suffer, as in capital cases, yet for the good of the people in general."110 The "particular good" must sometimes suffer for the general good, but such a situation is in no way a conflict of principles in government, because "the justice in the sovereign is no real quality in him, distinct from goodness. It is goodness, or a regard to the common good, that takes off the head of the traitor."111 The reconciliation of seemingly opposite ends was intelligible because such ends were the product of principles that were compatible. As Mayhew explained in applying them further to God, "Goodness and justice in him, therefore, are not to be considered as opposites: They may, in all cases without exception, be coincident."112 Goodness and justice, like virtue and worldly concerns, and like common good and private interest, were dialectically related in Mayhew's theory of government. Given this rather abstract understanding of the nature and function of government - and in spite of the fact that the two men were considered by their contemporaries to be leaders of revolutionary politics - it is not surprising that Chauncy and Mayhew sometimes lacked the confidence necessary to apply those principles fully to the problems of everyday life. Mayhew informed his audience on one occasion that the application of political theory could be a "thorny" matter: "I will not meddle with the thorny question whether, or how far, it might be justifiable for private men, at certain extraordinary conjectures, to take the administration of government into their own hands."113

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But it is clear that Mayhew upheld the right to remove a tyrant. He declared, first of all, that "civil liberty also supposeth, that those laws, by which a nation is governed, are made by common consent and choice."114 He then proposed further that civil liberty was contingent upon the free selection of a ruler and the delegation of the powers of the state to that person by the people: "People may enjoy civil liberty, though governed by a single person, provided it is by their own choice, and they delegate the powers of government to him."115 This was legitimated by a claim of historical origins, "authority's being originally a trust, committed by the people, to those who are vested with it."116 A ruler has no authority except that which is entrusted to him by the people, and if he betrays the common good, he can be removed from office. In Unlimited Submission Mayhew asked: "What unprejudiced man can think, that God made ALL to be thus subservient to the lawless pleasure and phrenzy of ONE?"117 He stated the principle in less rhetorical fashion in his notes, writing that people reserve "to themselves a right to judge, whether he [the ruler] discharges his trust well or ill, to discard him, and appoint another in his stead."118 Resistance to civil authority was thus, in theory, legitimate, but Mayhew stopped short of giving more specific guidelines for civil disobedience, noting only that too much disobedience (like too much authority, one supposes) was an extreme that brought the worst consequences: But then, if unlimited and passive obedience to the higher powers, in all possible cases, be not a duty, it will be asked, "How far are we obliged to submit? If we may innocently disobey and resist in some cases, why not in all? Where shall we stop? What is the measure of our duty?" This doctrine tends to the total dissolution of civil government; and to introduce such scenes of wild anarchy and confusion, as are more fatal to society than the worst of tyranny.119 Chauncy was likewise nervous about government becoming unbalanced in the direction of either tyranny or anarchy. When a government went out of balance, the people were justified, in the interest of the common good, in removing the ruler. Chauncy wrote that rulers who "abuse their power; applying it to the purposes of tyranny and oppression, rather than to serve the good ends of government, it ought to be taken out of their hands."120 However, a government could become unbalanced in the other direction: "A people's liberties may be in danger from others, besides those in the highest rank of government."121 Anarchy as well as tyranny was a danger: The men who strike with the popular cry of liberty and privele&ge, working themselves, by an artful application to the fears and jeal-

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ousies of the people, into their good opinion of them as lovers of their country, if not the only stanch friends to its interest, may, all the while, be only aiming at power to carry everything according to their own sovereign pleasure: And they are, in most cases, the most dangerous enemies to the community.122 All of this made the choice of leaders, at least in a New England town or community, a tricky matter. Because of the tradition of deference, political office was still generally tied to wealth. Political power and wealth, as Bailyn notes, "had a natural affinity for each other": Americans of 1760 continued to assume, as had their predecessors a generation before, that a healthy society was a hierarchical society, in which it was natural for some to be rich and some poor, some honored and some obscure, some powerful and some weak. And it was believed that superiority was unitary, that the attributes of the favored - wealth, wisdom, power - had a natural affinity to each other, and hence that political leadership would naturally rest in the hands of the social leaders.123 Indeed, as late as the 1780s, John Adams observed that wealth, even more than birth, bestowed status: Nay, farther, it will not be denied, that among the wisest people that live, there is a degree of admiration, abstracted from all dependence, obligation, expectation, or even acquaintance, which accompanies splendid wealth, insures some respect and bestows some influence. . . . Fortune, it is true, has more influence than birth. A rich man of ordinary family and common decorum of conduct may have far greater weight than any family member commonly confers without it.124 Edward M. Cook's analysis bears out further the connection between wealth and political office. Taking the towns of Bolton, Connecticut, and Murray field, Massachusetts, as explicit examples of seating procedures in town meetings of the eighteenth century, Cook concludes that wealth, age, and public service were the three most important criteria used in determining whether an individual sat in the front, the middle, or the back of the meeting house.125 Though Chauncy and Mayhew believed that some distinctions of "inferior/superior" could be made among citizens, both men rejected wealth as the sole criterion for political officeholding. Beyond this, however, neither man was able to explain exactly which qualities and character traits ought to be present in a ruler. Chauncy wrote: "Meerly their being

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men of birth and fortune, is not a sufficient recommendation."126 An overeagerness for "honor or profit" was likewise a sign of unfitness. Men of small accomplishment were "unmeet to be exalted to places of important trust." The most important factor in choosing a leader was "suitability": "The main thing to be lookt at in the choice of persons for this service, is their suitableness to it."127 For Chauncy, this most likely meant someone like Edward Wigglesworth, who was "in no ways rigid in his attachment to any scheme, yet steady to his own principles."128 Mayhew understood that it was one thing to write about the necessity for avoiding extremes, for preserving the coincidence of seemingly opposite principles: The writer was able, by his single-minded study, to provide some degree of coherence to his theory. The politician, however, required a different sort of skill. In his notes on Pascal, Mayhew included a section on the difference between a person who is "disposed for a deep and vigourous penetration into the Consequence of principles" and a person who has a great "capacity" for principles because "his mind rather feels them than sees them."129 Those who hold public office are of the latter sort, and have little use for "the way of Definitions." Rather, Mayhew wrote, "Politick Heads . . . judge of things by Way of Intuition."130 Indeed, it may only have been by "intuition" that anyone, political officeholder or private citizen, was able to make decisions in such a complex political society as the one Mayhew described. In government, what was dangerous was what was "extreme," and that which was beneficial was that which "coincided." True religion balanced private judgment and ministerial authority, and a legitimate government balanced private interest with the common good, deference with equality. Such a government was a moral government. A ruler was like a minister in that he promoted and protected the national morality. Morality was, in essence, itself a balance of self-love and benevolence. Chauncy wrote of "the existence of an infinitely perfect principle of benevolence," and described it as "that quality, in the human mind, without which we could not be the objects of one another's esteem."131 Chauncy claimed that benevolence "'tis natural to us, one of the principles implanted in our original frame, and what we all partake of."132 Mayhew agreed that "the benevolent uses and ends of almost all parts of the visible creation: are very obvious," and argued that the practice of moral virtue coincided with God's benevolent design: "We are under obligation to practice what is usually called moral virtue; for by this we imitate God: and fall in with his benevolent design."133 Benevolence is a "simple, uniform principle" that "Naturally and necessarily leads to this; i.e., to the practice of every virtue without exception."134 But benevolence as the principle upon which "the good order and happiness of the world depends"135 was of little use without its comple-

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ment, wisdom, to guide it. In explaining that benevolence must be balanced with wisdom, Mayhew asked: "How often do very kind parents destroy their children, even by their kindness itself, for want of reason and discretion proportioned thereto."136 Benevolence out of proportion to wisdom could cause "prodigious mischiefs" in nations and empires, and in the universe as a whole as well: From hence we may in some measure conjecture, if we are not afraid even to think what might be the consequence even of boundless power, tho' accompanied with universal benevolence, but no adequate wisdom, exerting itself at once thro'out the universe. The very tho't is sufficient to fill One with dread and terror!137 For benevolence to be more than a "blind impulse or instinct . . . supposes, that benevolence is always under the direction of reason," which directs it into "the channels in which it is to flow."138 Mayhew stated that simple benevolence not directed by knowledge, would be only a loving, kind, sort of phrenzy or distraction, which it is probable might

do as much hurt as good. . . . But he that is wise as well as benevolent, will observe those methods of acting, which are the most conducive to happiness.139

Chauncy agreed that benevolence "though infinite in its source, or principle, must yet be limited, restrained, and governed in all its manifestations, by wisdom, equity, and justice, or it may, in the final result of its operations, do more hurt than good."140 If left unbalanced, benevolence would tend toward an extreme that would "counteract" its nature: "Benevolence, though of infinite propelling force, if not guided in its operations by wisdom and intelligence, instead of producing nothing but good, might, by blindly counteracting itself, produce upon the whole, as the final result of its exertions, infinite confusion and disorder."141

Benevolence governed by wisdom was essentially equivalent to a mixture of benevolence and self-love. Mayhew took up the matter directly in asking, "What is intended by our loving our neighbour as ourselves?' Mayhew first suggested that "it may be reasonably questioned whether it is possible for mankind in this world, or perhaps in any other, to be so benevolent, as not to have a peculiar feeling for themselves."142 Thinking such benevolence to be unlikely, Mayhew suggested that the precept may require that persons simply "have a real concern, in some degree, for the welfare of others." Mayhew dismissed this understanding as well: "But this interpretation seems to be as much too low and jejune, as the above mentioned was too sublime and elevated."143 A third, and acceptable, interpretation explicitly balanced benevolence with self-love:

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It seems necessary therefore, that we pitch upon some third way of interpreting the matter before us. And perhaps the sense of it may be this - that we should not barely love our neighbour, but that our love to him bear some certain proportions to our self-love; that we love him to such a degree, as shall prevent us from doing any injury to him for the sake of private interest; that in all our intercourse with him, we should do to him, as we would that he should to do us.144

True benevolence balanced private interest with concern for the common good. This "balanced" sort of benevolence was what Mayhew referred to as a "mutual benevolence," and its action in society was compared to the "mutual gravitation" of planets that keeps them from getting either too close to or too far from each other: "The constitution of the world is such, that plenty, peace, and happiness can prevail no farther than a foundation is laid for them in mutual benevolence . . . just as the regular motions and harmony of the heavenly bodies depend upon their mutual gravitation towards each other."145 Chauncy, like Mayhew, pointed out that "we suppose social as well as private affection to have been 'implanted'" in persons.146 There are, he explained, "two grand principles in human nature, self-love and benevolence, the former determining us to private, the latter to public good."147 The proper application of benevolence resulted in actions that "fitted" private good to public good: "It is easy to understand the meaning of fitness, when predicated of benevolent actions, and how it is eternally reasonable, from thefitnessof the thing itself, for a being so constituted, to seek the welfare of others as his own."148 Self-love, the advancement of one's own happiness, was a principle that cooperated with benevolence in bringing about good. True benevolence was not a "blind" kindness, but a foundation for "mutual" trust. Public happiness was not an abstraction, but the concrete result of the cooperation of private and public interest. By "tempering our other qualities," benevolence "constitutes us worthy objects of each other's love, and lays the foundation for that mutual trust between man and man, without which there could be no such thing as public happiness."149 In the mid eighteenth century, an atmosphere of tension was present in political thought as well as in religion. Chauncy and Mayhew, in responding to this tension, outlined a theory of government that blended self-interest with the common good and deference with equality. Just as the Great Awakening had forced them (as it had the revivalists themselves) to respond hurriedly to new currents of religious life and thought, so too did the tax and trade controversies with England that began at mid century provoke them into statements about government. These statements were often rather rough-hewn. Indeed, in specifying only "suita-

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bleness" or "intuition" as qualities required of an officeholder, Mayhew and Chauncy were hardly performing a practical service to their fellow Americans. However, when their writings on government are taken together and viewed against the background of English thought and the conditions of political life in America, it is clear that the ideas found in those writings were closely organized around the principles of balance, wholeness, and mutuality. The political ideas of these two Boston liberals sometimes lacked precision, but, like their religious ideas, they were systematic and coherent. In addition to religion and government, a third area of colonial experience, that of socioeconomic organization - particularly the matter of rank and status - evidenced further qualities that fueled the overall liminal quality of American life. Again the problem centered on the relation of the individual to the collective, on the matter of reconciling the fact of individual social advancement with the vision of the social whole as a fixed order of ranks. The socioeconomic problem thus coincided neatly with the nature of the dichotomies in religion and in political thought, and it confirmed the sense that life hovered between seemingly opposite elements.

Chapter 4

Society: a balance of stasis and movement

Political deference to individuals with property, as a practical policy, was the corollary of a more general principle of colonial society, namely, that society was divided into fixed, clearly recognizable ranks or orders. The division of society into three broad groups - the "better sort," the "middling sort," and the "lower sort" - was partly the result of the opportunity for the accumulation of land and profits in a newly settled part of the world, and partly, as Clinton Rossiter has pointed out, the product of "the inheritance from England and Europe of a tradition of social stratification."1 This consciousness of class distinctions is graphically illustrated in an excerpt from the autobiography of Devereux Jarratt: We were accustomed to look upon what were called gentle folks, as beings of a superior order. For my part I was quite shy of them, and kept off at a humble distance. A periwig in those days was a distinguishing badge of gentle folk and when I saw a man riding the road, near our house, with a wig on, it would so alarm my fears and give me such a disagreeable feeling that I would dare say that I would run off, as for my life. Such ideas as between the difference between gentle and simple were, I believe, universal among all my rank and age.2 The fact that there was general agreement among colonists of a hierarchy of social rank is interestingly illustrated, again, in an incident recorded in the diary of Samuel Sewall, in the early eighteenth century. It happened that a certain church meeting was poorly attended because most of the congregation believed it be a gathering only for "gentlemen. " The mistake was traced to a slip by a Mr. Pemberton in wording the invitation to the meeting. Sewall related that the meeting was "very thin, 86

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Several came not because Mr. Pemberton said Gentlemen of the church and Congregation; [the absent ones] affirmed they were not Gentlemen and therefore they were not warned to come."3 Another story, from Virginia, suggests that class consciousness was important to colonial social relations in more subtle ways. In this case, a man of the "lower sort" was actually fined for arranging a race between his horse and that of a man of higher status: James Bollocke, a Taylor, haveing made a race for his mare to runn wth a horse belonging to Mr. Mathew Slader for twoe thousand pounds of tobacco and caske, it being contrary to Law for a Labourer to make a race, being a sport only for Gentlemen, is fined for the same one hundred pounds of tobacco and caske.4 Even the Quakers in Pennsylvania, among whom one might ordinarily expect a more egalitarian view of society, declared in their annual meeting in 1722 in Philadelphia that the differences not be obscured "betwixt those different Ranks and Degrees of men." In 1768, John Smith, a retired Quaker merchant, gave the same opinion, declaring that "in the different classes of mankind . . . the higher sorts" were "intitled to proportionable respect and rank." Smith declared: "I am not of levelling principles."5 Of course, just as wealth bestowed virtue and delivered political office to some persons, it guaranteed for everyone who possessed it membership in the "better sort." Jackson Turner Main writes: "Among all the factors that created social distinctions, property was the most important, and when the men of the revolutionary era referred to classes, they most commonly meant the unequal distribution of wealth." Main quotes a Maryland farmer on the matter: "Where wealth is hereditary, power is hereditary; for wealth is power - Titles are of very little or no consequence - the rich are nobility, and the poor, plebeians."6

John Day, the Nova Scotia merchant, essentially agreed with the viewpoint of the Mary lander. In Remarks on American Affairs (1774) he observed that at the top of the social hierarchy could be found four separate orders, and he connected wealth explicitly with the highest of these. The first order of men I shall treat of, are those who possess the greatest share of property, unconnected with commerce. This class is principally composed of such who live by the interest of their money . . . and others, who have already made, or are making, their fortunes by Land-jobbing. . . . The next order, in point of consequence are the commercial men, who vary their claims and desires as it serves their immediate interests.7

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Mayhew and Chauncy often wrote in defense of social deference and of the static character of social order, arguing that society was divided into "spheres" or "stations," the boundaries of which were not to be crossed. Bracketing individual advance as "uncommon," Mayhew upheld the necessity for a lower class: But leave uncommon, extraordinary examples of both prosperity and adversity, out of the question for the present; and consider mankind in general, the main body of the species as they rise. They always have been, now are, and always must be, poor and low in the world; obliged to toil hard, to rise early, and set up late, in order to get a livelihood for themselves and families, eating the bread of carefulness.8 For Mayhew, God "preserves the respective orders distinct, from age to age. " 9 For this reason it was best that persons accept their "station" or "rank" in life: "Let us be faithful and diligent in discharging the duties of our several stations in life."10 The good of society was dependent upon persons filling their place in the hierarchy of stations. An industrious person was still confined to a rank or station in the social order. Such a person "cannot be a mischievous member of society: Nay, he cannot but be serviceable, and a real ornament to it in his station, whether high or low."11 Diligence was recommended for persons of all stations, but in certain contexts Mayhew and Chauncy disconnected "diligence" from the idea of advancement. In The Snare Broken (1766), a sermon occasioned by the repeal of the Stamp Act, Mayhew expressed his approval of opposition to England, but nevertheless urged his congregation to turn their diligence back into its proper channels: Let us apply ourselves with diligence, and in the fear of God, to the duties of our respective stations. There has been a general dissipation among us for a long time; a great neglect and stagnation of business. Even the poor, and labouring part of the community, whom I am very much from despising, have had so much to say about government alnd politics, in the late times of danger, tumult and confusion, that many of them seemed to forget, they had anything to do. Methinks it would now be expedient for them and perhaps for most of us, to do something more, and talk something less; everyone "studying to be quiet and to do his own business"; Letting things return peacefully into their old channels, and natural courses, after so long an interruption. My immediate aim is what I now say, being only to recommend industry, good order, and harmony.12

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One ought to prosper in one's own station. Each employment had its peculiar duties, and, declared Mayhew "those persons who faithfully and worthily discharge them, are worthy of honor in their respective stations."13 Chauncy, who was provoked into a defense of the social order by the seeming "anarchy" of the Awakening, further emphasized the wrongness of "entring into other Men's Labours." Chauncy condemned those "who keep not within their own Bounds, but go over into other Men's Labours: They herein intermeddle in what does not belong to them, and are properly Busie-Bodies."14 "Busie-Bodies" were those guilty of "acting in the proper Sphere of others."15 Concerned, in particular, over the Awakening practices of itineracy, lay preaching, and female preaching, Chauncy concluded in Seasonable Thoughts: "Good Order is the Strength and Beauty of the World. - The Prosperity both of the Church and State depends very much on it. And can there be order, where Men transgress the Limits of their Station, and intermeddle in the Business of Others?"16 Chauncy emphasized that it was important to "check the undue influence of appetites and passions; and to keep them within their proper sphere," and similar reasoning dictated that society was endangered by the practice of "private Christians in quitting their own proper station, to act in that which belongs to another. Such a practice as this naturally tends to destroy that order, God has constituted in the church, and may be followed with mischiefs greater than we may be aware of. "17 Prosperity "both of Church and State" was thus contingent not upon advance through diligence but upon the diligent performance of the duties of one's own station. It was best, wrote Chauncy, "for everyone to be faithful, in doing what is proper to him in his own Place."18 Persons differed in their God-given capacities: "Some he endows with greater, some with smaller capacities."19 They likewise differed in the level of their station in society. They ought therefore to act their proper part in their social relations. Chauncy wrote: "In Respect of Men, they will behave towards them, if they are Superiors, with a modest Deference and Respect; if they are Inferiors, with Kindness and Condescension; and if they are Equals, with a friendly, affable freedom."20 Mayhew in like manner declared that "a DISRESPECTFUL or contemptuous behaviour towards your superiors, whether in age or in office," was "an heinous offense against the laws of God and against society."21 In another sermon, Mayhew tested his congregation with the following questions: "Do you honor your superiors? Are you condescending to your inferiors?"22 Mayhew argued that persons ought not to affect the dignity of a rank above their own by dressing in a manner above their station. Mayhew pointed out that "not only the custom of all civilized nations in all ages, but the holy scriptures themselves, warrant some distinction of dress in

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persons, answerable to the differences in their stations and circumstances in life. " 23 But many young people, "instead of being content with such clothing as is suitable to their degree and circumstances, to their own or to their parents worldly estate, aspire after what is far beyond either. "24 Therefore, their clothing is "wholly disproportionate to their rank and circumstances." Such affectation upsets the explicit separation of one part of society from another, and in so doing upsets "the natural order of things": By this means those good ends which might otherwise be answered in society, by the distinction of dress, are in a great measure defeated; for this confounds all ranks, destroys due subordination, and even inverts the natural order of things, by settling poor people of low degree above the rich, and those that are on high.25 Chauncy likewise offered in defense of class distinctions a scriptural argument. Arguing against communism in primitive Christianity, Chauncy stated: "It may be further worthy of notice, the new testament writers are so far from reducing Christians to a level, by putting them upon having all things in common, that they obviously suppose there actually was, and would be, a difference between them in outward circumstances."26 Chauncy turned the tables on those who would use scripture to defend the idea of a society without social distinctions: Hence they often speak of the members of this, and the other Christian church under the characters of rich and poor; which would have been altogether improper, if Christianity had destroyed this distinction, by obliging all that were believers to have all things in common. And not only do the apostolic writers speak of rich and poor in the church, but graft many of their instructions upon this difference there was in the worldly circumstances of its members. The rich, particularly, are applied to as such, and minded of the duty they are applied to in this capacity.27 Social status in America was, however, less fixed than such statements by Chauncy, Mayhew, and others might suggest. Movement in and out of the upper class was eminently possible according to the rise and fall of one's fortunes. For example, Main, after studying the 1771 Massachusetts tax roll, concluded that the highest level of Boston society was filled with families who had climbed there over a relatively short period of time.28 It was not uncommon for persons to rise from their position among the "middling sort" (or even, though rarely, the "lower sort") into the highest social stratum. Equality of opportunity made vertical mobility an integral part of the social system in the colonies in the eighteenth century. Writing about the colonial "middling sort," Clinton

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Rossiter states: "Up from this class had climbed hundreds of the proudest families of the aristocracy, and up to it climbed, especially in prosperous times, thousands upon thousands of servants, laborers, and other unpropertied men."29 Chauncy and Mayhew believed that perfectibility in nature came through the cultivation of one's potential, and that advancement in one's worldly circumstances was possible in the same way. Idleness was seen as an unnatural state of being. Mayhew warned his congregation of "the fatal consequences of sloth," and, addressing himself to the young people in the congregation, he affirmed: "Another sin against which you are to be particularly warned, is idleness, the neglect of business, or the tnis-spence of time; all of which come nearly to the same thing. Time is indeed precious, if eternity itself is of any importance."30 Chauncy concurred that the "neglect of business" would lead to "an indolent inactive way of life. "31 Such misspent time and inactivity led, for Chauncy, to disorder or subversion: "Whenever persons are idle, they are disorderly: For an idle Life is, in the whole of it, a Disorder. It subverts the Order God has established for the Support of Mankind. " 32 Mayhew added that idleness led to criminality: It is morally impossible for any person to neglect the proper duties of life, or to live long in idleness, without falling into such practices as are positively criminal: For the idle person is not only peculiarly exposed to the snares and seductions of the "wicked One," but does, as it were, tempt the devil to tempt him.33 Chauncy argued that work was one of the "established Laws of Nature," and reasoned further that "Industrious Labour is therefore the Law of Christianity."34 It was thus necessary that individuals strive diligently to reach goals. In Striving to Enter In at the Strait Gate (1761), Mayhew

explained the meaning of "striving," in a general way, as "opposed to indifference, negligence, and sloth; and implies an intense application of the mind and faculties, in order to effect what we have in view." 35 In the world of goods, diligent striving brought wealth. Mayhew pointed out to his congregation that diligence could "secure and advance your wealth": It should be observed that many of those virtues which belong to the head of Christian sobriety, have, in their very nature, a direct tendency to promote your interests and happiness. For example, diligence in your worldly callings, temperance in meat and drink, and a virtuous moderation in other respects, have a plain, direct tendency to secure and advance your wealth, health, and ease; and to prolong your lives. In conformity thereto, Solomon says of

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wisdom that "length of days is in her right hand, and in her left, riches and honor."36 Chauncy made the same assumption: "And so necessary an expedient is Diligence in order to Wealth, that if men are idle, they will unavoidably be poor."37 Moreover, the practice of virtue tended toward the accumulation of wealth, no matter what one's capacity. In discussing happiness, Mayhew wrote: If you place it in worldly riches, religion and virtue are very friendly to it in this view: Whereas there are many vices that tend directly to poverty: much more so than any one virtue that can be named. These things are not only certain, but obvious; they lie level to all capacities. And is it not a great recommendation of religion to your judgement, your reason, that it is the most sure and effectual means available, some extraordinary cases being excepted, to promote your temporal felicity in all these respects?38 Accumulation of wealth by diligence and industry, even by persons who began with little property, was a fact of colonial life clear to Chauncy and Mayhew. Chauncy wrote: "Men, it is true, may come to the possession of Wealth by Inheritance. But Wealth, even in this case, was originally the purchase of Labour; and it is only in this Way that it can be improved to Advantage."39 Persons could improve their wealth by diligence, but persons of low rank could, as well, acquire wealth by diligence. Even the poor, wrote Chauncy, could "rise and prosper": But however it may be as to Men of Substance, those, who have their Fortunes to make, must certainly take Pains. They may as well expect to be learned without study, as to be rich without Diligence. If a man's circumstances are low, he can rise and prosper in no other Way, but that of Industry.40 Like Mayhew, Chauncy quoted Proverbs in support of such a claim: "To this purpose are those Proverbs of Solomon, Ch. 10. v. 4. 'He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack Hand: But the hand of the diligent maketh rich. . .'" 41 Mayhew, like Chauncy, also believed that hard work enabled one to accumulate property, but in Sermons on the Following Subjects (1755) he added that "to heap up uncertain riches" was not always the way to happiness. Certainly, there were "those, whose circumstances place them above the necessity of labouring for their daily bread. "42 But such persons, after having labored all their lives to accumulate wealth,43 should realize that riches might "suddenly 'take to themselves wings and

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flee away.' " 44 Raised in the relative poverty of Martha's Vineyard, Mayhew had attended Harvard as a charity case, but by investing his West Church income in trade, he had accumulated an estate valued at eight hundred pounds by the time of his death in 1766. Certainly, May hew derived satisfaction from his financial improvement, but it is clear that he considered his position as a leading Boston minister to be more significant in terms of social status.45 It is therefore not surprising that in his advice to the young men of his congregation he recommended that they seek the prestige of profession: "There are many honourable offices, in the exercise of, or at least in the preparation for which, young men may be worthily engaged." In particular, Mayhew recommended "Law, Physic, and Divinity," or "those three which are commonly called the learned professions in the exercise of which, or in acquiring the needful qualifications for them, young men may be laudably employed. "46 Advancement, then, might come about by one's prospering in business, or by one's practicing an honorable profession. Movement in the social system was not easily reconciled with ideas about fixed rank. As Rossiter points out, for Quaker merchants in Philadelphia, mobility engendered "that peculiar trait of our peculiar aristocracy: consisting entirely of the children and grandchildren of self-made men, the upper class looked upon recently self-made men with a contempt that would have done credit to a Spanish grandee. "47 Frederick Tolles, also writing about Philadelphia Quakers, suggests in more general terms the nature of the problem: The hierarchical theory of society assumed that the class structure was static, whereas, on the contrary, as we shall see, the society of colonial Philadelphia was highly fluid. It was not uncommon for a Quaker merchant, but one generation from the artisan or shopkeeper, to fancy himself. . . a gentleman.48 It was extremely difficult to reconcile a static social order with the obvious fact of fluidity in society. As Main suggests, "Colonial society was at once equal and unequal." It was equal "in that the opportunity to rise was open to all except slaves," and unequal "because there were great economic differences - rich and poor, exploiters and exploited."49 Though inequalities of wealth were everywhere apparent, especially in the urban areas, and though this buttressed the notion that class structure was static, the obvious rise of persons into the "better sort" could nevertheless not be denied. Had royal blood been the basis of inclusion into the better sort, as in England, accumulation of wealth by certain colonists would not have affected the notion that class structure was static. However, as wealth was so closely tied to status in America, to position in society, accumulation of wealth brought with it mobility into the

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upper class. Thus, in spite of colonial belief in a fixed ordering of classes in society, it could not be denied that there was movement, fluidity, as well. This confusing mixture of ideas and events made clear statements about the nature of society extremely difficult for many Americans. No matter how much movement was visible between classes, colonists were utterly unwilling to give up the notion that society was a static hierarchy of positions. Throughout the colonial period, reference to "superiors" and "inferiors" was a perfectly common and accepted way of describing social categories. As Main concludes, "The historian who tries to discover the revolutionary American's ideas about class is confronted with a set of irreconcilable beliefs."50 In Boston in the mid eighteenth century, the problem of reconciling belief in social hierarchy with the fact of vertical mobility was especially acute. Boston of course had its gentry, established families with huge property accumulations: Amorys, Boylstons, Faneuils, Hancocks, Hutchinsons, Olivers, Waldos, and others. But beyond the circle of this entrenched aristocracy, Boston experienced a remarkable degree of movement in the social order. In the decades leading up to the American Revolution, the economy of the city of Boston was characterized by what G. B. Warden calls "variable instability": an economic profile characterized by frequent ups and downs. Analyzing data drawn from tax, probate, market, and population research, Warden concludes that economic conditions were indeed far from what one might expect to find in support of belief in a static social order. There is little of the continuity, permanence, and stability that one usually associates with entrenched wealth, or with a Europeanized peasant society. Instead, the general picture appears to be one of rapid turnover and sudden ups and downs on the ladder of wealth. Instead of being a petrified pyramid, the distribution of wealth in recorded probate inventories at ten-year intervals resembled a fragile house of cards, falling and being reshuffled every generation. . . The changes from decade to decade seriously challenge the notions that rich and poor were static, permanent categories or conditions in the communities.51 Though Warden may overstate his case for instability - available evidence suggests that a visible portion of the upper class survived the economic crises of the mid eighteenth century52 - it is clear that a succession of socioeconomic catastrophes in Boston at mid century seriously challenged the notion of a fixed class structure. From 1720 to 1770 a series of events alternately boosted and undermined the economy. A smallpox epidemic in 1730, following one only nine years earlier, killed

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an eighth of the city's 16,000 inhabitants. Passage of the Molasses Act in 1733 and the growth of ports such as Salem, Newburyport, and Marblehead combined to undermine the shipbuilding and distilling businesses in Boston so thoroughly that by 1750 approximately 90 percent of the shipbuilding business and 66 percent of the distilling business were lost.53 King George's War, and especially the organization of the Louisburg expedition, imposed a further burden on the townspeople of Boston. Heavy taxes were levied, prices were raised, loss of life left a thousand widows in the city, and the provincial treasury was drained.54 The failure of the Land Bank in the early 1740s contributed further to the financial chaos. By the late 1740s inflation had become a serious problem. The value of the local currency fell from 48 percent of sterling in 1720 to 8 percent in 1750. Prices rose faster than laborers' wages, and the trade deficit with England rose sharply.55 A few Bostonians had made money on wartime contracts during the 1740s, but the effect on the overall economy of the city was negligible. The Seven Years' War (1754-61) brought broader and deeper positive results. War contracts, as well as the influx of money that came with the presence of British troops, brought about a sharp upturn in the city's economy in the 1750s. Probate wealth doubled from the decade of the forties to the decade of the fifties, and the exchange rate, local currency to sterling, began to improve for the first time in thirty years.56 Instability returned to the city in 1760, however, in the form of a fire that destroyed 350 homes and shops and caused an estimated 53,000 pounds' damage. The early 1760s were further plagued by another smallpox epidemic and a minor credit crisis. After 1765, a series of events, beginning with the Stamp Act crisis and continuing through the occupation of the city of Boston by the British, likewise contributed toward fluidity in Boston society.57 The possibilities for vertical mobility in the colonies in general, plus the peculiar circumstances of economic instability in Boston itself in the middle of the eighteenth century, shaped a viewpoint toward social structure in that city that was essentially in conflict with the older notion of a static hierarchy. There was still ample evidence for a fixed class structure in Boston at this time, but it was becoming increasingly more necessary to account for both stasis and movement in society. For arrivistes, the problem was particularly urgent. Families with new money claimed the status of the "better sort," of superiority to those still attempting to climb from the lower ranks, while conveniently overlooking the fact of their own recent rise from "inferiority." But of course they could not wholly reject their own past: For them America was a land of upward mobility just as much as it was a society divided into better and

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worse strata. Rossiter summarized the dichotomy as "the general acceptance of the doctrine of class, a stultifying belief tempered considerably by the equally accepted doctrine that the individual should rise or fall by his own virtues and capacities."58 The problem of conceptualizing socioeconomic organization was, then, similar to the nature of the problems in religion and political thought, and contributed in a fundamental way to the sense of in-betweenness in American life. When Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew wrote about religion and government, they were guided by the perception of dichotomies, of tension. Indeed, they may have felt the tension even more keenly than some of their contemporaries. As ministers, they were particularly cognizant of the troubles in colonial religion, and as political thinkers who had familiarized themselves with the ideas of English Whigs, they were aware of the conflicts of ideas in theories about government. But equally important, because Chauncy and Mayhew were the pastors of First Church and West Church, respectively, they were in a position to observe firsthand the processes that fueled confusion about social organization.59 The churches in which each of these congregations gathered were themselves impressive structures, situated on Boston streets alongside other large and expensive buildings. The church in which Charles Chauncy was ordained, and in which he served for sixty years until his death in 1787, was made of brick. It had been built in 1713 to replace its wooden predecessor which had been consumed by a fire "generally said and concluded to be occasioned by one Mary Morse, being in drink."60 In Chauncy's lifetime, this new brick building in Cornhill Square would become known throughout Boston as Old Brick, and Chauncy himself would eventually end up sharing that name. A poem about the Boston clergy of 1770, composed by John Fenno, keeper of the granary, made the common reference to Chauncy: "And Charles Old Brick, if well or sick / will cry for liberty."61 According to the Burgis map of 1728, First Church stood at the head of King Street, facing east.62 Persons exiting the ordination of Chauncy, upon walking down the front steps of the church, would find themselves in the center of Boston, amidst elegant buildings. The Town House across the street housed the town and provincial governments, the courts, and the merchants' exchange. Behind the Town House, King Street ran east past Merchants Row, past the old and famous Bunch-ofGrapes tavern, and out onto the Long Wharf, crowded with warehouses and docks.63 The Antiguan sea captain James Birket described the neighborhood in 1750: From the State house Soward fine Open Capacious Streight Streets from the Gover House to the Stateho is one of the finest I saw in

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America called Cornhill. Also King street which Extends from the Statehouse to the head of the Long wharf is A curious fine Open Genteel Street At the uper end of which, Near the end of the Statehouse (which the walk in, in Bad weather) ther Merchants meet every day about Eleven o'Clock & Continue until near One before the retir to dinner: Amongst whom you will find very good entertainment, And their houses furnished in an Elegant manner their dress very genteel & In my Opinion both men and Women are too Expensive in that respect.64 First Church, with its clock that chimed the hours, thus stood in the heart of the governmental and commercial center of the city, and its congregation included a share of the officers and merchants who lived and worked around it. In January 1737, ten years after Chauncy's installation at First Church, seventeen persons, from six worshiping bodies, elected William Hooper to the pastoral office of the West Church and voted him a weekly salary of eight pounds, larger than that of any other congregational minister in town.65 The construction of the church building itself, where Mayhew would preach from 1744 to 1766, was already under way at the urgings of merchants Harrison Gray and Hugh Hall, and was completed in May.66 Dr. Alexander Hamilton described the building as follows: This meeting house is a handsome, new, wooden building with a huge spire or steeple att the north end of it. The pulpit is large and neat with a large sounding board supported att each side with pilasters of the Dorick order, fluted, and behind it there is a high arched door over which hangs a green curtain. The pulpit cushion is of green velvet, and all the windows in the meeting are mounted with green curtains.67 Hamilton also noted that "we heard a very good discourse and saw a genteel congregation. The ladys were most of them in high dress."68 West Church was located on the northeast corner of Cambridge and Lynde streets in the West End. In the Bonner map of 1722, West End is little more than fields and ropewalks, but in the next twenty years this part of town was laid out in streets and "large and substantial residences" were built, along with public gardens and a bathhouse.69 Akers thinks that the neighborhood of West Church became a haven after 1720 for persons with the financial means to leave the North End. In any event, West Church had its share of distinguished members. Indeed, during the 1887 commemorative services at West Church, George E. Ellis, president of the Massachusetts Historical Society, declared that the congregation of Jonathan Mayhew's West Church "was second to none in the characters and distinctions of its members."70

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Charles Akers agrees with Ellis that "West Church was known as a society of prosperous and enterprising persons," and adds that the congregation was composed of "ambitious and often self-made men."71 Indeed, both First Church and West Church included a large number of persons of high status. The congregations of these two churches were unusually rich,72 and some of the members -John Gill, Richard Salter, John Salter, and Samuel Doggett, among others - had moved upward through the social order into the top level of society in the space of twenty or thirty years.73 Many others were on the brink of real wealth, ready to move. It is likely that confusion over how society was structured, how mobility was related to status in society, thus was particularly keen in the congregations that Chauncy and Mayhew pastored, and exercised an important influence on the thinking of the two men. Just as early-twentieth-century Social Gospel exponent Walter Rauschenbusch pointed to his eleven-year ministry to a congregation in New York City as crucial to the development of his ideas about religion and society, so also ought we to consider the characteristics of the congregations of First Church and West Church to be a key formative context for the thought of Chauncy and Mayhew.74 There are, then, concentric circles of background against which the social theories of Chauncy and Mayhew must be appraised. In three key contexts that shaped the thought of these men, the tradition of deference and the appearance of clearly distinguished social ranks came up against the fact of economic advancement. These three concentric contexts are: (i) colonial socioeconomic life as a whole; (2) the economic situation of Boston in the mid eighteenth century; (3) the social profile of the congregations of First Church and West Church. To these, of course, ought to be added the relevant portions of the personal background of the two men, such as the fact of Mayhew's own economic advancement and Chauncy's distinguished New England lineage (which included the second president of Harvard College).75 All of these social contexts provided Chauncy and Mayhew with impressions that helped to shape their ideas. In organizing those impressions into coherent statements about the workings of society, however, the two men adopted a popular construct of European thought, the concept of the Great Chain of Being. According to this theory a hierarchy of life forms existed in the universe. Millions upon millions of species, though clearly distinct from each other, and just as clearly ranked in relation to each other, were nevertheless connected in a single, unbroken chain of being. There was a clear distinction of species, one from another, the highest from the lowest, but there was just as clearly a connection of each species with every other, in a chain without "void" or "chasm" that linked the highest existences with the lowest. The universe was thus understood to be

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divided into levels of being with permanently fixed boundaries, but was understood as well to demonstrate a perfect unity, a perfect wholeness, because each level was still somehow able to bond with those above and below it. In this way, the notion of the great chain of being suggested how unity and diversity coexisted as principles of the cosmic order.76 As Arthur Lovejoy has pointed out, Bolingbroke - whose ideas about government and society were known in America - was, with Leibniz and Pope, in the forefront of thinkers who believed in the notion of the Great Chain of Being.77 The influence of this theory is unmistakable in the thinking of Chauncy and Mayhew. Writing about the capacity for happiness, the favorite eighteenth-century measurement of cosmic place, Mayhew declared: "Of those creatures that are capable of enjoyment or pleasure, some are doubtless capable of it in far higher degrees than others."78 Similarly, but more enthusiastically, Chauncy proposed the vision of "beings gradually rising, in the scale of existence, to an inconceivable height in their capacities for the enjoyment of happiness."79 Chauncy elaborated: There are other systems of beings to whom God has made manifestations of his goodness. If we may depend upon the bible, as a sacred book, there are certainly other beings, capable of happiness, and in actual possession of it, besides those which dwell on this earth. Nay, more than this, their capacities for happiness are much larger.80

Common sense reinforced the scriptural argument for the existence of other inhabited worlds: "There are so many globes visible to our sight, equally capable, with this globe we live upon, of containing inhabitants, furnished with sentiments of happiness, and means of obtaining it, that it is, without all doubt, the truth of fact, that they are filled with such inhabitants."81 Comments such as these were grounded, for both men, in a clear sense of a hierarchically ordered cosmos, one in which, as Mayhew wrote, there were "men of high degree, and of low . . . angelical hosts and hierarchy."82 Each species had its place, and, as Chauncy explained, each experienced a level of happiness consistent with that place, so that "so much happiness is alotted to them, as is proper to creatures in their state, and filling up such a place in the scale of beings."83 Full comprehension of the highest levels of being, according to Mayhew, was beyond human capacity. God loves such beings, but humans should not expect to do the same: "The reason why we are not commanded to extend our love to the angels, and all the glorious inhabitants of the other world, is not because they are a different order of beings; but because they are out of reach of our abilities."84 Chauncy reasoned that

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this world beyond human capacities was itself divided into various levels, or "orders": "As, among the inhabitants of the upper world there seems to be a difference of order as well as species; which the scripture intimates, by speaking of them in the various stile of thrones, dominions, principalities, powers, archangels, and angels."85 The world below humanity was likewise divided into fish, fowl, insects, and "other animals so low in the descending scale of subordination. "86 The place of humanity, then, as Mayhew pointed out, was somewhere in the scale of beings between angels and insects: Now if we consider ourselves as MEN, we are a distinguished order of creatures, and under great obligations to our Creator. However inferior we may be to many creatures in other parts of the universe; (inferior indeed!) yet there is no presumption, no vanity in saying, that we are much superior to any of the other inhabitants of this world.87 Chauncy once referred to "we men, the highest order of beings in this lower world," but, like Mayhew, Chauncy believed that humans in fact straddled the line between the upper world and the lower world. 88 The peculiarity of human existence was its character as part animal and part rational: "What I speak of as thus peculiar, and worthy of notice, is our compound make; in consequence of which we are partly animal, and partly rational, being allied to the highest, and lowest orders of beings in the universe."89 Humans thus could sense something of the upper world but could not fully comprehend it. They had a partial membership in the lower world, but were yet superior to it. Like other species, the human species was a distinct order of creation, but that distinction was so infinitely small that it was almost unrecognizable. In the language of the day, there was no "chasm" between the human level and the next higher or lower level. Homo sapiens was one of millions of species each of which differed minutely from those above and below it, and this variety, this unfathomable diversity, was, argued Chauncy, the very reason why creation formed a well-adjusted, connected whole: "The creation isfilledup, by that admirable nice and curious variety in the classes of creatures, whereby they are fitted to be proper links in the chain of existence; all concurring as so many welladjusted parts, to constitute one whole without void or chasm."90 According to Chauncy, the various species in the universe "are so many well adjusted parts in the chain of existence: And perhaps this system could, in no other way, have been constituted so full and coherent a whole. "91 Differences of endowed capacities among species ensured that no level in the chain of being was left empty. Creatures "are variously endowed with capacities, some superior, others inferior; Nor could they otherwise have been fitted to fill the place assigned to them in the chain of being."92

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The same reasoning that posited a chasmless chain of beings in creation suggested that gradations were to be found even within species. There was little theological discussion of differences in the endowed capacities of horses, or of beetles, but there was considerable attention given to the differences among humans. Chauncy stated this aspect of the theory as follows: Possibly, the gradations in beings, by means of which all the spaces are filled up, could not have been so accurately compleat, unless there had been a difference between the individuals in each species as well as between the species themselves. Some disparity between men compared with one another, and the creatures in every other class considered, in the like comparative view, might be necessary to link together the several species, so as to make one coherent chain, without any void or chasm.93 The plain sense of such an arrangement was clear to Mayhew, who asked: "Why not the lowest individual of the lowest species, was not made the highest of the highest; and vice-versa, the highest not the lowest?" The answer was so obvious, declared Mayhew, that the question itself was absurd: "All such queries, I say, carry their own futility and self-repugnance in their very face. They imply a plain contradiction, as much as it would be to ask, Why Noah's dove was not originally made the ocean, the moon or a comet?"94 For Chauncy, men were variously endowed in their capacities by the Creator, and were thus an aspect of the order of creation: "If our capacities had been precisely the same, that subordination in the human species, those superiorities and inferiorities, could not have taken place."95 Mayhew simply stated: "For it amounts to no more than this, that some men are superior to others."96 If they had been spoken before the late seventeenth century, such statements by Chauncy and Mayhew could have stood without further qualification as expressions of the hierarchical order explicit in the concept of a chain of being. But in the decades after about 1670, Enlightenment thinkers had begun reinterpreting the idea of the Great Chain of Being to allow for some measure of movement among the various orders of being. As the notion of perfectibility of nature gained popularity, and as scientists began seriously to consider the process of evolution in biology, some philosophes endeavored to soften the rigid, static design of the chain of being. These attempts took two forms. First, the notion of "seeds" was introduced to account for advancement up the scale of creatures. It was argued that living things had been created in immature form, and that in development over time, they would reach their full potential. Second, and closely allied to this idea, was the belief that

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individual souls migrated through a succession of organic bodies on their way to perfection. Both ideas were popularized by Leibniz, who wrote: "Every birth of an animal is only a transformation of an animal already alive. "97 Just as worms become flies and caterpillars become butterflies, so also do human souls "advance and ripen continually, like the world itself, of which they are but images." These souls began in seeds and moved in time from one body to another: "I should suppose that souls which will some day become human have, like those of other species, been in seeds, and in the ancestors, up to Adam, and have consequently existed since the beginning of things, always in a sort of organized body."98 This growing interest in advancement through the chain of being, what Arthur O. Lovejoy called the "temporalizing of the chain of being," was extremely difficult to reconcile with the older notion of a system of clearly fixed ranks.99 The notions of "seeds" and of the transmigration of souls provided, for a limited time, a way of combining stasis with mobility in the chain of being. The idea of transmigration, especially, was appealing because it challenged the theory of the chain of being at its weakest point: the doctrine of infinitely minute differences between species, a concept essentially beyond comprehension. In theory, a clear line existed between species. In practice, such a line could never be drawn. It was imagined that disembodied souls passed from one species to another, through boundaries that were themselves incomprehensible, and thereby arrived at a new level of maturity. Filled with metaphors, this idea of the chain of being became itself in the eighteenth century a metaphor for the dialectical relationship of stasis and movement in the cosmos. Mayhew and Chauncy accepted the notion of movement in the Great Chain of Being. Mayhew defended the idea of the transmigration of souls by pointing out that lower creatures, or "brutes," may not "enjoy a share of pleasure superior to their pains," but that such a sorry condition may not actually be "an end of all."100 Mayhew claimed that "every living, sensitive creature is endowed with some principle distinct from matter; call it soul, spirit, or what you please, it is of no consequence." This principle "may survive the body, be continued after the dissolution of the present organs of sensation, and live in another body." Mayhew pointed out that, indeed, there was nothing irrational in such an idea, and, in fact, "the transformations, or transmigrations that are actually observed in some living creatures, render it credible in itself, and, in a degree, probable."101 Chauncy, emphasizing the extremely close connection of one level of knowledge to another, argued that intelligence itself was progressive in nature:

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One degree of knowledge is so connected with another, and so naturally prepares the way for it, as that it may be an impossibility, but that every created mind should be capable of attaining still higher degrees of it. So that if we were at all made capable of intelligence, it should seem as though, it must have been, in general, in the way of

progression.102

Progression was part of the divine plan, wrote Chauncy, adding that God, "whose bounty daily supports millions of men, and numberless millions of inferior creatures, has supported them through thousands of past successions in life."103 The social theory of Chauncy and Mayhew should be seen as an expression or an application of the principles of cosmic order that were articulated in the theory of the Great Chain of Being. Parts of that theory corresponded structurally to the social experience of the two men in the several key contexts of their lives. Drawn by their social experience to certain aspects of the theory - the emphases upon wholeness, upon balance, and upon mobility alongside stasis - Chauncy and Mayhew used those principles to organize their ideas and to fashion statements about the workings of society. Edmund Morgan has written that in America in the eighteenth century "the most subtle transformation took place in social theory."104 The theories of Chauncy and Mayhew were part of this subtle transformation, this rethinking of the relation of the "parts" of society to the "whole." An example of such a rethinking is found in Chauncy's and Mayhew's treatment of the metaphor of the social "body." The traditional metaphor for describing the social body was drawn from 1 Corinthians 12, in which the parts of the social body are likened to the parts of the physical body. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, this metaphor was used by Puritan writers to illustrate the necessity for distinctions of status in society: The superior element was generally placed at the "head." William Perkins explained that "the whole bodie is not the hand, nor the foote, nor the eye, but the hand one part, the foot another, and the eye another; and howsoever in the bodie one part is linked to another, yet there is a distinction betweixt the members." Perkins thus reasoned that "in every society one person should bee above or under another; not making all equall, as though the bodie should be all head and nothing else; but even in degree and order, hee [God] hath set a distinction, that one should be above another."105 Similarly, William Hubbard, a colonial minister and political moderate of the seventeenth century, who, according to Perry Miller, "held forth the fundamental Puritan conception of social cohesion articulated in a hierarchy of classes,"106 offered the following analysis:

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Nothing therefore can be imagined more remote either from right reason or true religion than to think that, because we were all once equal at our birth, and shall be again at our death, therefor we should be so in the whole course of our lives. In fine, a body would not be more monstrous and deformed without a head, nor a ship more dangerous at sea without a pilot, nor a flock of sheep more ready to be devoured without a shepherd, than would human society be without a head.107 In the hands of Chauncy and Mayhew, this metaphor was subtly changed. Language that emphasized subordination of certain parts for the good of the whole gave way to language that emphasized that the good of each individual part was as important as the good of the whole. Mayhew treated the matter in Two Sermons on the Nature, Extent and Perfection of Divine Goodness:

He that constituted the members in the natural body, and assigned them their respective offices as pleased him; He that appointed the foot to tread in the dust, and to bear the load of the body; He that made the least comely parts and members, to answer valuable ends, and to participate in the happiness of the body; while He made the ear to hear, the eye to see, and the head to direct and govern the whole, has put an honor upon them all in their respective places. And neither of them can say to another "I have no need of you." Thus it is also in the church, and in the greater society of mankind.108 Such language, particularly in the context of the sermon as a whole, represents an attempt to modify the clear emphasis on "distinction" present in the treatment of the metaphor by previous generations of Puritan writers. An emphasis on the equality of each "part" is recognizable throughout the text. Mayhew began by arguing that God's order did not require that the happiness of a single part be unfairly sacrificed for the good of the whole. First, he pointed out that God would not create a species in the Great Chain of Being and then neglect it: If there are any other planets or worlds inhabited, we may be certain that God takes a similar care of the various orders of creatures in them. . . . It were highly irrational to suppose, that he has made any one species of creatures . . . and then neglected it as below his providential care.109 Elaborating, Mayhew stressed that individual creatures within a species could not be neglected. He argued that the good of the individual and the good of the species "must needs go together." In so doing, he explicitly,

SOCIETY

105

and by name, rejected what he saw as Bolingbroke's hierarchical cosmology in which some individuals were duty bound to accept their unhappy station and circumstances.110 Mayhew wrote: It is not very easy to conceive how an whole, or a species can be kindly provided for by the God of all, as some have supposed [footnote to Bolingbroke] and yet the parts, the individual, be neglected by him. Is God the maker of the species only, not of the individuals? That were a very mysterious condition, a curious discovery to match the other! Indeed, they must needs go together. For if God is supposed to be the maker of individuals, it follows as undeniably from hence, that he will take care of individuals, as it does from his creating the species, that he take care of the species. The reasoning that will hold with respect to one, will hold equally with respect to the other; if it fails in one, it will fail in the other also.111 It was inevitable that persons form into groups in society, and Mayhew admitted that "everyone ought to be principally concerned for the welfare of those to whom he is most nearly allied." But, he added, "a man's belonging to a particular family does not destroy his relation to the whole commonwealth of which he is a member."112 A person might belong to the head, or to the feet, or to the eyes or ears of the body, but such a person also was simply a part of the social body in general, and thus equal to each of the other parts. For Mayhew, acknowledgment of the equality of individuals did not replace the importance of distinction in society. The body still had a head to "govern" the rest, even if all places were "honourable" and, when considered as units making up a whole, actually equal. At times Mayhew emphasized the importance of preserving society as a system of fixed status distinctions. At other times he suggested that individual improvement - the self-cultivation of one's spiritual and social potential113 - was a fundamental Christian duty. Mayhew assumed that society, like the cosmos, was a coherent whole, and that within that whole, seemingly opposite tendencies were reconciled. Just as movement and stasis were principles equally important to the chain of being, so both personal advancement and static hierarchy were necessary for a healthy society. Equality and inequality, mobility and stasis, the elements in each of these pairs were dialectically related within "one stupendous whole."114 Though not as explicit as Mayhew in emphasizing the honorability of each and every part of the social body, Chauncy nevertheless presented the body metaphor in such a way as to temper the idea of stratification with images of mutual need and even the possibility of advancement. In Gifts of the Spirit he pointed out that there were "various members of the

106

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

body; all of which have their use, and are necessary in their place: and tho' some are more excellent, and serve a much better use than others; yet all are serviceable; in so much, that no one can complain of the other, and say / have no need ofthee."115 But Chauncy balanced this statement of varied "excellence" in the body with the qualification that "those that are weak may yet, in their place, be as useful as those that are strong."116 Moreover, he encouraged persons to look to their own improvement, as well as to the duties of their rank: "The industrious improvement of our gifts, be they great or small, few or many, is required of us."117 Such remarks did not change the body metaphor into an expression of general equality, but added to it something new, the possibility of improvement. Society considered as a system could not be described simply as a hierarchy of ranks. In The Benevolence of the Deity Chauncy offered a more abstract analysis of the matter of the relation of parts to the whole that clarified his treatment of the issue via metaphor in Gifts of the Spirit. This analysis was similar to Mayhew's own attempt at abstract philosophizing in Divine Goodness and argued the same ideas. Chauncy claimed that beings, as parts of a whole, were essentially undifferentiated. He stated that "the several beings, in any particular system, are the parts constituting that a particular whole."118 Next, he claimed that God, in governing the world, does not group beings into "kinds" (even though, paradoxically, various "kinds" exist), nor does he consider them even as distinct individuals. Rather, each being is simply a "part." The deity governs "all the various kinds of beings, on this earth, and all the individuals in each of these kinds, with a relative view. He considers them not as simply so many kinds of beings, much less as so many single individuals but as parts constituting such a particular system in the universe."119 As undifferentiated parts of a system, each being thus benefits equally from divine care: "No more good is to be expected from him, with respect to any species of beings, or any individuals in these species, than is reasonably consistent with the good of the whole system, of which they are parts."120

For Chauncy and Mayhew, the activity of the parts resulted in a common direction for the whole. Regardless of how one advanced in social status, it was believed that by advancing oneself, one benefited society as a whole. The practice of virtue and the accumulation of wealth by individuals contributed directly to the public good. The law of labor, wrote Chauncy, is founded on the publick Good. For there cannot be a flourishing People without Labour. It is by Improvement in Arts and Trade, that they must grow in Wealth, and Power and become possessed of the various Emoluments tending to the Benefit and Pleasure of

SOCIETY

107

Life; and these Arts take their Rise from, and are carried on by, the Industry of particular Persons.121 The law of labor "is admirably adapted to promote private as well as public Good. For industrious Labour is the way for Individuals, as well as Communities, to thrive and flourish."122 Work was the duty of individuals, and of societies. It was "connected, in the Nature of Things, with the Good of Mankind, considered both individually, and as coalescing in Society."123 Just as individuals have risen to power and wealth by their industry, so also "some Nations have increased in Riches, Grandeur, and Power, by being industrious, tho' great Obstacles and discouraging Difficulties have stood in the Way."124 In short, advancement through diligent labor was a principle that benefited the individual and, in so doing, benefited society. As Mayhew wrote, persons should strive to learn a profession that would "at once" bring "honor to yourselves, and benefit to society."125 The social theories of Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew, like their religious ideas and their reflections upon government, were organized according to the principle of dialectic, or balance. Society was understood to be a complex but coherent organism, an exemplification of the divine wisdom that had given order to the vast cosmos in a Great Chain of Being. Indeed, for Chauncy and Mayhew, society, religion, and government were three overlapping areas, all of which shared the structural features upon which the cosmos was thought to be ordered.

Conclusion: the hidden balance

Charles Chauncy and Jonathan Mayhew believed that society, like the universe, was a coherent whole. Just as the oftentimes hidden hand of God arranged and connected things on a cosmic scale, so also did humanity arrange itself into a workable social order, under the influence of an impulse to unite that was itself fundamental and irreducible and, indeed, somewhat mysterious. The social theories of Chauncy and Mayhew were characterized by faith in cohesion, in the union of individuals in the social body. As Chauncy wrote, such union was a cosmic principle applicable to all species: "There is a certain bond of union established between the individuals of every species."1 Mayhew illustrated the matter more simply: "Men have a natural propensity towards society. They love to combine and unite as much as Beer."2 God's creation was a coherent whole, but that did not mean that death, disease and natural catastrophe could not occur. Similarly, the existence in persons of an impulse to unite did not ensure that society would function smoothly at all times. Chauncy and Mayhew understood that social relations were a complicated and delicate matter, and warned that the slightest disturbance in the social order, if left unattended, could bring tragic consequences. Society was, as Samuel Davies suggested,3 a fine-tuned instrument, and if the tension between its parts was upset in even the smallest measure, the resulting imbalance could quickly tip society into an extreme condition. Though persons had a "natural propensity" toward union, it was still important that they keep a careful watch on the shape such union took. By following the "middle way" they could avoid the harmful extremes that uncritical uniting might produce. Chauncy and Mayhew were not, of course, the first persons to recognize the need for balance in society, or in religious or political matters. It 108

CONCLUSION

109

is clear that balance was a key concept in the political theories of Harrington and of almost all the English political writers who came after him. Likewise, the seventeenth-century Puritan vision of society included an emphasis on the necessity for balance between the individual and the collective. Chauncy and Mayhew stood on the shoulders of their predecessors. Their contribution was to interpret and apply the principle of balance in such a way as to make sense of the great changes occurring in the colonies. In writing about creation as a whole, Chauncy and Mayhew repeatedly pointed to the "hidden" connections of things in creation, to instances where seemingly opposite purposes were actually one. In their writings that treated specifically religious doctrines, both men relied heavily upon an explanation that stressed dialectics. Whether they were writing about faith and works, good and evil, the affections and reason, or other critical issues, Chauncy and Mayhew consistently summarized their ideas with a reference to the way in which very different elements "mutually confirmed" each other. In their political and social writings the case is the same. The direction of their thinking was always to emphasize the necessity for both deference and resistance, equality and inequality. Goodness and justice were mutually constitutive in the ruler, and God's laws by "paradox" coincided perfectly with civil laws. Mobility was as important an aspect of social life as was the preservation of fixed social ranks. Individuals acted as social creatures with a mixture of self-love and benevolence. Social life in all of its aspects was characterized, in essence, by a dialectical process in which seeming opposites were understood to be coincident or mutually constitutive. Just as the cosmic order in the Great Chain of Being was a dialectic between stasis and mobility, so was society a dialectic between personal advancement and permanent social boundaries. Implicit in the thought of Chauncy and Mayhew is the assumption that understanding was possible only through imagination - imagination guided by reason, but imagination nonetheless. Both men constantly stressed the mystery and wonder of creation, and claimed that the cosmos was structured with opposites that balanced in a "hidden" way so as to produce wholeness. Though they are called rationalists, and have been pictured as having lost the "heart" of Puritanism, Chauncy and Mayhew were, in fact, men of deep religious sensibilities.4 They did not provide to their congregations a simple rule of thumb for ordering one's social life, nor, much less, did they consciously seek to arm the elite with a certain understanding of society that could be used to keep the lower ranks in check.5 They did not believe that reason alone would uncover the root of social disharmony. They did not suggest that the cosmos would open all of its secrets to the key of science. Rather, Chauncy and

no

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

Mayhew directed the attention of their congregations to the ways in which seemingly contradictory principles actually cooperated, in a dialectical process, to reveal the oneness of creation. Society was a dialectic of high and low, equality and inequality, and in that dialectic was the "hidden" meaning of society. Just as a public officeholder had to "intuit" (as Mayhew wrote) the way through a range of political issues, so also did each individual have to intuit his or her way through social life. Such an understanding of society was partly a product of the fact that Chauncy and Mayhew framed their ideas in a period of tremendous change, the transitional period between the Awakening and the Revolution. Confronted with sudden changes in religion, politics and the social order, Chauncy and Mayhew attempted to join old ideas to new ideas, and to do so in such a way as to preserve the integrity of each. But Chauncy and Mayhew were not simply two men caught in a period of transition. They were Congregationalist ministers, religious leaders in Boston, with the responsibility to explain to their congregations certain points of religious doctrine and to apply those explanations to the everyday world of the eighteenth century. Their faith in the wholeness of the universe, in the purpose and direction of creation, played a major role in the construction of their social theories. Their sensitivity to the importance of wholeness and balance in points of religious doctrine, together with their observation of the political and economic changes in Boston, led to a social vision characterized by an appreciation for meaning emerging out of dialectic. Like the cosmic order in the Great Chain of Being, society could be intuited, but never fully explained.6 The significance of the thought of Chauncy and Mayhew has not been fully appreciated by historians, who, for the most part, have understood such significance to lie essentially in the roles played by Chauncy and Mayhew in the shaping of "rational religion" in America or in the contributions made by the two men to the rhetoric of the American Revolution. This is not to say that scholars have missed the point completely with regard to Chauncy and Mayhew. Indeed, Chauncy and Mayhew did exert a profound influence upon the direction of New England theology - and some theology outside of New England — and they were responsible for some of the strongest admonitions against English influence in American religious and civil affairs.7 Chauncy's published responses to Jonathan Edwards and the Great Awakening brought him correspondence with ministers throughout the colonies eventually numbering in the hundreds of letters. He maintained these contacts after the Awakening through meetings with ministers in his travels at least as far south as North Carolina.8 Mayhew's provocative Discourse Concerning Unlimited Submission, which was singled out for praise by John Adams in a letter to Thomas Jefferson, was read throughout the colonies. Mayhew

CONCLUSION

in

himself was singled out by William Smith, provost of the College of Philadelphia, as a leader of the antiepiscopacy campaign in America. 9 The writings of Chauncy and Mayhew were known in England partly as a result of the efforts made there by Thomas Hollis on Mayhew's behalf, and through the support given to Chauncy by Richard Price of the Royal Society.10 Mayhew's Seven Sermons, reprinted in London in 1750 (a year after the appearance of the work in America), gained for the author immediate recognition and the Aberdeen D.D. The Discourse was sent to England that same year, and the responses it elicited confirmed Mayhew's reputation as a controversial thinker. The English editor Richard Baron included the sermon in his The Pillars of Priestcraft and Orthodoxy Shaken, an anticlerical work published in 1752; and nearly forty years later, as news of the French Revolution made its way to London, the Gentleman's Magazine reprinted parts of the Discourse as a comment on political tyranny. Mayhew's A Defence of the Observations an impassioned warning about Anglican plans to subvert the religious order of New England and, indeed, of the colonies as a whole - brought a response from none other than the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Seeker, who published his Answer in 1764.11 But even Seeker was forced to make concessions to American opponents of episcopacy. Israel Maudit, brother of the English Dissenter Jasper Maudit, wrote Mayhew that the Observations had in fact forced Seeker to postpone plans to send more missionaries to the settled parts of New England.12 Charles Chauncy's reputation in England was sufficient to garner him the Edinburgh D.D. His own objections to episcopacy, as well as his role in organizing with Mayhew a missionary society through which to challenge Anglican efforts in America, brought him, like Mayhew, to the attention of Seeker.13 Chauncy's delivery of the Dudleian lecture of 1762, entitled The Validity of Presbyterian Ordination, provided an occa-

sion for Henry Caner of King's Chapel in Boston to write urgently to Seeker warning the archbishop of the trouble brewing in the colonies over the episcopacy issue, and of Chauncy's key role in fomenting it. It was not Seeker, however, but Thomas Bradbury Chandler, rector of St. John's Church in Elizabethtown, New Jersey, who penned the Anglican response to Chauncy. Chandler's Appeal to the Public (1767) only provoked Chauncy further, resulting in The Appeal to the Public Answered, Chauncy's warning that the presence of bishops in America would lead to taxes for their support and the consequent gradual erosion of civil liberties.14 In addition to noting in general the far-ranging influence of Chauncy and Mayhew upon Anglo-American thinking about religious and political matters, historians have specifically identified the ideas of Chauncy and Mayhew as fundamental to the rise of Unitarianism. This story has

H2

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

been ably told by George Willis Cooke, Conrad Wright, and others, and need not be reviewed here. I only wish to point out, however, that if Henry May is correct in his estimation that Boston Unitarianism was "the most intact survival of the Moderate Enlightenment" in America in the nineteenth century, then it is appropriate that we recognize Chauncy and Mayhew as key figures of the Moderate Enlightenment.15 In light of the argument I have made for the coherence of Chauncy's and Mayhew's ideas about religion, government and society, there is another, perhaps more fundamental, set of reasons than those given above for why we ought to pay particular attention to Chauncy and Mayhew if we wish to understand eighteenth-century American thought. Put simply, the ideas of Chauncy and Mayhew were attractive to Americans because, taken together, they constituted a symbolic map of an interconnected cosmic and social order, or, as anthropologist Clifford Geertz might put it, an ideology, a pattern of symbols that is expressive of social reality and that becomes particularly important in time of dramatic social and religious change.16 To view Chauncy and Mayhew in this way, as cartographers of sorts, is to depart from the mainstream of scholarly study of these two men, to put on a different pair of spectacles through which to see them. For the most part, historians concerned with American intellectual life in the mid eighteenth century have concentrated upon either the development of political theory or upon the theological reformulations that took place among the New England clergy.17 Religion and politics are not separate, but are very closely intertwined components of the human search for order. We should not assume that changes in ideas about government are merely reflections of shifts in thinking about cosmic order, nor should we assume that changes in theological perspective follow directly from reworkings of political and social theory. We ought rather to understand that ideas about government, society, and religion develop together under a broad conceptual umbrella, generally in connection with the changing circumstances of everyday life, and always with a view toward what is useful, and worth conserving, about previous symbolic systems. Chauncy and Mayhew, then, are extremely important to our understanding of developing American ideology in the eighteenth century because they produced a large quantity of writings focused not just upon religion but upon society and government as well. Their work affords us one of the very few examples among eighteenth-century American writers of the attempt to integrate ideas in all of these areas into a coherent ideology, a symbolic map of reality. In their theories we can glimpse a broad search for order and for meaning that is not apparent in the literary remains of most other eighteenth-century theologians or, with a few exceptions, in the writings of those considered to be the political fathers

CONCLUSION

113

of the nation. The idea of balance, of course, was central to late-eighteenth-century discussions of political order, and it was particularly popular among New England Federalists. In the writings of Chauncy and Mayhew we can see that balance, though sometimes hidden, was fundamental to cosmic order itself.18

Appendix

Status of members of First Church and West Church

I have included this sketch of the status of members of First Church and West Church because I think that it is useful background to understanding the social world of Chauncy and Mayhew. In the records of First Church and West Church there survive no membership rolls, no lists of names of all the church members for a particular year. The information available consists of records of baptisms, marriages, new admittances, and bequests and limited financial reports. Lists of the names of members must be pieced together from what can be gleaned from these records. The problem is complicated by the fact that there are no lists of departures (not dismissals) to go along with the records of new admittances.1 Persons left one congregation for another fairly regularly, but there is no way of knowing exactly when such a transfer occurred, unless the name of a member turns up in the records of another church. Sometimes persons left the city altogether. Sometimes they only wanted to be married or to baptize their children. In short, though there are many names in the records, not all of them can be considered regular churchgoers, much less members. Ezra Stiles has made construction of the membership rolls a little easier. In a letter to Andrew Eliot in 1766, he remarked that First Church, with its one hundred and fifty families, ranked fourth among Boston churches in size of membership. It followed Old South, Brattle Street, and New North. 2 If Stiles was accurate in his estimate, West Church could have had at that time one hundred and fifty members at most, and probably had fewer.3 Because of the date of Stiles's letter, I have attempted to compose a membership roll for each church for the year 1765, and in doing so I have observed the following procedures. I have first of all checked the records for the names of persons who belonged to various church committees 114

APPENDIX

115

Table 1. Membership list for First Church Samuel Pemberton John Cunningham Tuttle Hubbard John Leverett Thomas Waldo Joseph Green John Salter Samuel Hill Joseph Russel Robert Rand Samuel Ridgeway Josiah Quincy Cornelius Thayer John Rogers Jonathan Cary Samuel Doggett Samuel Holbrook John Hunt III Edward Powers Constant Freeman James Thwing Nathaniel Thwing Richard Salter Turrel Thayer Edward Jackson Benjamin Gray Nathaniel Thayer John Joy Benjamin Russel Joseph Webb Ruth Parrot Joseph Lee Nathaniel Balston Jeremiah Green Jonathan Williams

William Blair Townsend Samuel Austin Bartholomew Rand Thomas Leverett Shrimpton Hunt John Gray Joseph Man Ebenezer Lowell Andrew Cunningham Samuel Ridgeway, Jr. Benjamin Austin Thomas Wait Joab Hunt Thomas Rand Jacob Williams Ebenezer Swan Job Wheelwright William Gray Benjamin Homer Israel Loring Jeremiah Russell Daniel Henchman Daniel Marsh William Scott Caleb Blanchard Samuel Ruggles Middlecott Cooke Thomas Hartley William Torrey William Fairfield Byfield Lyde John Wendell Capt. Samuel Partridge Jonathan Williams, Jr.

(committee to assist the deacons, committee for seating in the meeting house, special committees, etc.). I have assumed that anyone who participated actively in the administration of church affairs was a genuine member. Secondly, I have searched the church baptismal and marriage records for the period 1740-71. In the cases of both West Church and First Church, the lists gathered in this manner run to well over two hundred names. To thin out the lists to a size more in accordance with Stiles's estimate, I have attempted to verify at least the fact of Boston

n6

THE HIDDEN BALANCE Table 2. Membership list for West Church John Gerrish John Popkin Harrison Gray Edward Potter James Lamb, Jr. Thomas Jackson Samuel Pilsbury John Grant Job Prince William Downe Cheevers Dan'll Jones Stephen Whiting Peter Cumber Miles Whitworth Charles Coffin Joseph Scott Meletiah Bourne Capt. Isaac Philips John Gill Joseph Tyler Thomas Chapman William Dorrington John Furnass Nathaniel Fosdick Capt. Martin Gay James Barker Edward Sanders Joseph Henderson Ephraim Fenno Hezekiah Welch Samuel Eliot Widow Winslow Thomas Carnes John Gore Henry Simpson Ebenezer Hancock Samuel Jepson Jacob Gill William Smith Thomas Flucker Benjamin Edes John Hurd Henderson Inches

John Grant Benjamin Kent Harrison Gray, Jr. James Lamb Thomas Gardner Edward Barnatt Isaac Winslow Capt. James Bruce Thomas Brewer Philip Richardson William Rogers Thomas Hodson Barnabas Allen James Robb Joseph Hudson Samuel Hassam James Ridgway Richard Call Thomas Foster Lemud Stutson Isaac Townsend Samuel Quincy Daniel Berry Joseph Billings Sarson Belcher Simeon Freeman John Fleet Nicholas Gray Sam Alleyne Otis Bossenger Foster John Skinner Thomas Walley Joseph Welch Lewis Gray Uriah Norcross William Foster John Farnum Col. Joseph Scott Samuel Waldo William Bright Paul Revere Jeremiah Gridley Thomas Green

APPENDIX

117

residence in 1771 for each of the names. I have done this by matching names appearing in church records with names on the 1771 Massachusetts valuation list. In some cases I have been able to establish that certain persons were still alive and living in Boston in 1765, by turning up their names in the reports of the Boston Records Commissioners. In some cases, information provided in Sibley's Harvard Graduates has made verification possible. Regrettably, there is no foolproof way of determining whether persons whose Boston residency can be verified still belonged to one of the two churches. However, it is probably safe to assume that Boston residents who consistently brought their children in to be baptized over a period of ten or twenty years (as most did) were committed to the congregation. Thus, the final lists for 1765, though probably not perfect, ought to be considered fairly accurate.4 The winnowing-out process described above has yielded a list of members for each church about half in number of what Stiles's letter suggests. For First Church, there is a list of sixty-nine names, and for West Church, a list of eighty-six. I hope these lists provide a fair enough sample of church membership to draw some conclusions about the social composition of each congregation. Something about the economic circumstances of individual members can be discovered by matching the names of church members with names in the 1771 tax list.5 Tables 3 and 4 give the names of members of First Church and West Church, respectively, with appropriate data from the 1771 list for each member. In some cases, church members whose names appeared on records of church committees (and thus are considered verified members) do not appear on the 1771 list. In some cases, information about the economic circumstances of these individuals has been drawn from other sources.6 Occasionally, there is no tax information available on the 1771 list next to a person's name. Often this is because he or she lived with another person, either as a relative or as a rent-paying boarder. The 1771 list usually makes this clear by listing the name of the person to whom rent was paid. Other times, when there is no information about the assessed annual worth of a person's real estate, and it is recorded that the person is a renter, it is sometimes evident that the person has substantial personal assets. Such is the case of Benjamin Homer of First Church, who is listed as the owner of twenty tons of shipping vessels and six hundred pounds' worth of merchandise. A similar case is that of John Hunt III of First Church, who is listed as the owner of 450 pounds' worth of merchandise. For James Lamb of West Church, no information whatsoever is given about his financial status. However, the records of the losses of the Great Fire of 1760 set his losses at seventy-three pounds eight shillings.7

n8

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

Table 3. 1771 Assessment of First Church members

Name Pemberton, Samuel Townsend, William B. Cunningham, John Austin, Samuel Hubbard, Tuttle Rand, Bartholomew Leverett, John Leverett, Thomas Waldo, Thomas Hunt, Shrimpton Green, Joseph Gray, John Salter, John Man, Joseph Hill, Samuel Lowell, Ebenezer Russel, Joseph Cunningham, Andrew Rand, Robert Ridgeway, Samuel Ridgeway, Samuel, Jr. Austin, Benjamin Quincy, Josiah Wait, Thomas* Thayer, Cornelius Hunt, Joab Rogers, John Rand, Thomas Cary, Jonathan Williams, Jacob Doggett, Samuel Swan, Ebenezer Holbrook, Samuel Wheelwright, Job Hunt, John, III Gray, William Powers, Edward Homer, Benjamin Freeman, Constant Loring, Israel Thwing, James Russell, Jeremiah Salter, Richard Henchman, Danielfc Thayer, Turrel

Annual worth

Adjusted annual worth

127

162

35 34 34

210

24 20

144

34 34 8

204

20

120

60

360

14 20

120

—

Personal property

Total 162

600

810

204

700

904

204

1,333

1,537

1,170 533

1,290

120 204

48

84 —

6

—

144

460 —

737 664 48

—

120

3,482

3,842

—

84

i,43i 2

i,55i 2

36

36

—

20

120

—

120

40

240

646

886

8

48

24

144

378 144

20

120

330 — —

37 46

222

20

242

276

200

476

40

240

—

240

20

120

14

84 —

—

20

120

—

10

60

—

20

120

20

120

10

130

20

120

420 146

—

18

84 120 60

6

16

96

20

120

26

20

120 —

34

204

10

60

—

120

18

128

34 —

204 —

126

96

40

160

450

450

300

504

—

—

20

138

—

300 —

—

120

60 60

60

40

168

—

120 24

—

228 —

1,013

26

156

30

180

180

14

84

84

857

119

APPENDIX

Table 3 (cont.)

Name Marsh, Daniel Jackson, Edward Scott, William Gray, Benjamin Blanchard, Caleb Thayer, Nathaniel Ruggles, Samuel Joy, Johnf Williams, Jonathan Williams, Jonathan, Jr.

Annual worth

Adjusted annual worth

20

120

27 27

162 162

Personal property 119 40

230

993 —

M55 84 1,240

H

84

40 —

240 —

1,000 —

20

120

—

27 60 40

162

—

360

1,000

240

Total

162

202

— 120

162

1,360 402

Other 1760 fire losses

Cooke, Middlecott Russel, Benjamin Hartley, Thomas Webb, Joseph Torrey, William Parrot, Ruth Fairfield, William

853 66 10

67 800

666 257

Other members whose wealth is not recorded in the 1771 list

Jackson, Edward

Inherited an estate of 30,000 pounds in 1736 (Sibley's, 8:61)

Note: Annual worth is annual worth of the whole real estate. Adjusted annual worth is annual worth multiplied by 6 to adjust it to the assessments in the 1767 Tax Act. See Henretta, "Economic and Social Structure," p. 82n, and Warden, "Inequality," pp. 588~9n. Personal property is value of merchandise, factorage, and money lent at interest. Total is in local currency (pounds Mass.). Warden has figured the exchange rate to be about 75 percent, local currency to sterling, at this time ("Inequality," p. 591). "Lost property in 1760 fire valued at 300 pounds. fe Lost property in 1760 fire valued at 36 pounds. 'Record of value of personal property illegible, but appears to be in four figures.

Likewise, we find in the fire loss records more information about Philip Richardson of West Church than the 1771 list tells us. 8 Cases such as these give us reason to agree with Pencak that lack of property information about a name on the 1771 list does not necessarily mean that the person was propertyless.9 As can be seen from Tables 3 and 4, the number of persons from the membership lists of First Church and West Church who rated in the top 9.6 percent of taxpayers (see note 9) is impressive. For First Church,

THE HIDDEN BALANCE Table 4. 1771 assessment of West Church members

Name Gerrish, John Grant, John Popkin, John Kent, Benjamin Gray, Harrison Gray, Harrison, Jr. Potter, Edward Lamb, James" Lamb, James, Jr. Gardner, Thomas Jackson, Thomas Barnatt, Edward Pilsbury, Samuel Winslow, Isaac Bruce, Capt. James Prince, Job Brewer, Thomas Cheevers, William D. Richardson, Philips Jones, Dan'll Rogers, William Whiting, Stephen Hodson, Thomas Cumber, Peter Allen, Barnabas Robb, James Coffin, Charles Hudson, Joseph Scott, Joseph Hassam, Samuel Bourne, Meletiah Ridgway, James Philips, Capt. Isaac Call, Richard Gill, John Foster, Thomas Tyler, Joseph Stutson, Lemud Chapman, Thomas Townsend, Isaac Dorrington, William Quincy, Samuel Furnass, John Berry, Daniel Fosdick, Nathaniel

Annual worth

Adjusted annual worth

40

240

27

162

20

120

34 47 —

204 282 —

18

108

34 —

204

8 27

48

12

3 47

— 162

72 18 282

20

120

40

240

Personal property

Total 240

— —

162

250 — — — — — — —

454

120 282 — 108 204 —

48 162

5

77

400

18 682

— —

120

1,500 —

1,740

9

54

20

120

4 34 11

24 204 66

16 16

96 96

—

24 264 66 196 96

20

120

—

120

16

96

—

96

7

42 —

—

42

8

48 240 —

—

—

40 —

268 — 60 — 100

54 388

—

—

48

1,500

1,740 —

—

1,050

47

282 48 162 96 282

943

1,235

20

120

100

220

20

120

66

186

27 14 —

162

14 40

84 240

12

72

14

84

47 8 27 16

84 —

— 300 —

— — — — — — — —

1,332 48 462 96

162

84 — 84 240 72 84 —

APPENDIX

Table 4 (cont.)

Name Billings, Joseph Gay, Capt. Martin Belcher, Sarson Barker, James Freeman, Simeon Sanders, Edward Fleet, John Henderson, Joseph Gray, Nicholas Fenno, Ephraim Otis, Sam Alleyne Welch, Hezekiah Foster, Bossenger Eliot, Samuel Skinner, John Winslow, Widow Walley, Thomas' Carnes, Thomas Welch, Joseph Gore, John Gray, Lewis Simpson, Henry Norcross, Uriah Hancock, Ebenezer Foster, William Jepson, Samuel Farnum, John Gill, Jacob Smith, William

Annual worth

Adjusted annual worth

48 8 7

288 48

20

120

42

16

96

20

120

54

324

16 60 16

360

96 96

Personal property

400

6 — — — — 300 — 500 —

Total 688 54 42 120 96 120 624 96 860 96

16

96

403 —

1,814 140 1,080 727 96

60

360 78 66

1,377 500 —

1,737 578 66

34

204

20

120

20

80

480

600

54

324

13 11

27 17 14

162

34

204

102

84

1,610

— —

300

162 102 84

504

Other members whose wealth is not recorded in 17ji list

Waldo, Samuel Bright, William Revere, Paul

Possessed vast wealth, estimated at between 50,000 and 70,000 pounds (see Akers, p. 53; Nash, p. 568) Lost 10 pounds' property in 1760 fire A goldsmith, Revere nevertheless managed to find 213 pounds in 1770 to buy land from John Erving

"Lost property in 1760 fire valued at 73 pounds. fc Lost property in 1760 fire valued at 27 pounds. c Lost property in 1760 fire valued at 600 pounds.

122

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

thirteen of sixty-eight members possessed property valued in excess of 600 pounds. They were: William B. Townsend, John Cunningham, Samuel Austin, Bartholomew Rand, John Leverett, Thomas Leverett, Joseph Green, John Salter, Joseph Russel, Richard Salter, William Scott, Caleb Blanchard and Jonathan Williams. In addition to these, another five members possessed wealth valued at over 400 pounds, and thus were in the top 12 percent of Boston property owners. They were: Benjamin Austin, Samuel Doggett, John Hunt III, William Gray, and Jonathan Williams, Jr. The Great Fire records show that Middlecott Cooke, William Torrey, and Ruth Parrot lost property valued at 853, 800, and 666 pounds, respectively, in 1760. According to the information given by Pencak and Warden, the fire-loss records need not be revised in order to compare them with the 1771 figures.10 Finally, we should add to these names that of Edward Jackson, who according to Sibley's Harvard Graduates inherited in 1737 an estate worth 30,000 pounds.11 All totaled, then, twenty-three of sixty-nine members of First Church ranked in at least the top 12 percent in Boston on the basis of property ownership.12 For West Church, we find that twelve of eighty-six members were in the top 9.6 percent. They were: Isaac Winslow, Job Prince, Joseph Scott, Meletiah Bourne, John Gill, Capt. Martin Gay, Joseph Henderson, Sam Alleyne Otis, Samuel Eliot, the Widow Winslow, Thomas Walley, and John Gore. In addition to these, another four ranked in the top 12 percent. They were: Benjamin Kent, Capt. Isaac Philips, Lewis Gray, and William Smith. Samuel Waldo, whose wealth was estimated at between 50,000 and 70,000 pounds - much of which consisted of vast property holdings in Maine13 - should be added to these. Adding these together, we find that seventeen of eighty-six members of West Church ranked in at least the top 12 percent on the basis of the value of their property. A look at public officeholding among members of these congregations reinforces the impression of status that the tax records suggest. We might begin this survey by identifying the "responsible" public offices. Following Cook, we can assume that the offices of representative, selectman, town treasurer, town clerk, and moderator were of such a nature.14 Though some of his claims are inflated and sometimes inaccurate, Henretta is probably correct in saying that certain other offices in Boston were correlated with social and economic position and ought to be understood as prestigious to some degree.15 Specifically, the office of overseer of the poor appears to have carried considerable responsibility in Boston in the period after 1760. Henretta believes that the office was filled by town elites, and the tax figures tend to support him.16 After the 1760 fire, the overseers of the poor were given the formidable task of gathering relief funds - which eventually totaled 13,317 pounds sterling - and of distributing them among the fire victims.17 As Warden and

APPENDIX

123

others have pointed out, such events as the credit crisis after Nathaniel Wheelwright's financial failure, a currency crisis in general after 1760, and the smallpox epidemic of 1764-5 contributed toward broad changes in the fabric of Boston society. Nash suggests that these changes led to a marked increase in poverty among the city's population.18 The role of the overseers of the poor in providing relief for the poor, especially after 1760, should not be underestimated. When one considers that the overseers of the poor in Boston occasionally met with just the selectmen and the justices to discuss important town matters,19 and that the office was filled almost exclusively by persons of the highest economic rank, then it is probably correct to assume that the office was both "responsible" and connected with high status. In addition to these city offices, we can expect that certain county and provincial offices were correlated with high status. Such offices would include justices of the peace on the county level, and provincial leaders of almost any sort. Let us take the year 1765, then, as an example of public officeholding by members of First Church and West Church. Of the seven selectmen, Benjamin Austin and Nathaniel Thwing were from First Church. Thomas Flucker, of West Church, was chosen as a selectman but resigned, probably because he was already a Massachusetts councillor (1761-8) and provincial secretary. Meletiah Bourne and Henderson Inches (who would be chosen a selectman three years later), members of West Church, were made overseers of the poor. Harrison Gray, also of West Church, was a Massachusetts councillor (1772-6) as well as provincial treasurer. There were numerous justices of the peace from each congregation: Byfield Lyde, Nathaniel Balston, Jeremiah Green, John Wendell, Benjamin Austin, William Blair Townsend, and Joseph Lee were all from First Church. Thomas Green, Isaac Winslow, Meletiah Bourne, and Thomas Flucker were from West Church.20 When the inhabitants of the town of Boston met on March 6, 1770, to consider together their course of action following the Boston Massacre the preceding day, they elected a committee to represent their interests in the matter, "to wait upon his honor the Lieut. Governor."21 Of the fifteen Bostonians selected, three were members of First Church: Samuel Pemberton, Benjamin Austin, and Samuel Austin. One of the committee members, Henderson Inches, was from West Church.22 Likewise, when mandamus councillors were appointed in 1774, three of the ten who took office were from West Church: Thomas Flucker, Harrison Gray, and Isaac Winslow. Another appointee, Joseph Lee, had recently left First Church, after a long membership, to join Christ Church.23 Many other persons who were members of First Church or West

124

THE HIDDEN BALANCE

Church held public office in Boston in the period 1740-70. A few held major offices. Middlecott Cooke, still a member of First Church in the sixties, was elected representative from Boston in 1776. Jeremiah Allen (d. 1750), of West Church, was a representative. Joseph Green of First Church was chosen as a selectman in 1753. In 1767, John Gore, of West Church, and Capt. Samuel Partridge, of First Church, were made overseers of the poor.24 Most of the officeholders drawn from these two churches held minor posts, and with the possible exception of town auditor or school inspection committee member, these positions did not reflect high status.25 Nevertheless, many of the minor offices required diligence and frequent attention and, as Cook points out, sometimes groomed a person for a major office.26 It is interesting to note that Samuel Austin (First Church) served as clerk of the market in 1756 and twelve years later became a selectman. William Blair Townsend was a scavenger in 1756, five years before becoming a justice of the peace. Nathaniel Thwing of West Church was also a scavenger, in 1748, and became a selectman in the 1760s. John Gore was a clerk of the market in 1750 and an overseer of the poor in 1767.27 First Church and West Church also numbered in their congregations several prominent professional men. Josiah Quincy (Harvard A.B. 1763) of First Church read law with Oxenbridge Thatcher, was admitted to the bar in 1766, and two years later began to practice before the Supreme Court. Shipton calls him the "greatest New England orator of his generation." Quincy was appointed by the town of Boston to complain about the Liberty affair, and it was also Quincy who chose to defend the soldiers involved in the Boston Massacre. His reputation as a skilled lawyer and a patriot spread throughout the colonies and beyond them to England. When he died at the age of thirty-one, he left two thousand pounds to Harvard College. Another lawyer, Jeremiah Gridley, was a founder of West Church, and remained in the congregation for twenty years until he left Boston in 1755. Like Quincy, he was a man of reputation: Shipton calls him "the greatest New England lawyer of his generation." Oxenbridge Thatcher, James Otis, and William Cushing (Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court) read law with Gridley. In 1742, Gridley was elected attorney general by the Massachusetts House of Representatives, but was immediately removed by the governor, who claimed the right to place his own political appointee in that office. In 1755 Gridley was elected Grand Master of the Masons of North America, and served several terms as selectman in Brookline beginning that same year.28 Benjamin Kent, another lawyer who belonged to West Church, was "a member of more committees than any other Bostonian," beginning in

APPENDIX

125

1750. These included everything from school inspection committees to the Liberty committee on which Josiah Quincy served. Kent was appointed attorney general of the state in 1776. Samson Salter Blowers paid a six-thousand-pound dowry to marry his youngest daughter, Sally, in I774-29 Another prominent professional man, Dr. Miles Whitworth, belonged to West Church. No relation to the quack "Whitworth doctors" of England, he was responsible, along with Drs. James Lloyd and Nathaniel Perkins, for carrying through the smallpox inoculation program at Castle William clinic in Boston Harbor during the 1763-5 epidemic.30 Whitworth was well connected politically. Until 1769 he had the lucrative commission from the Massachusetts Council to treat the poor in the Boston almshouse.31 Like Kent, his professional abilities were sometimes impugned by Bostonians, but, like Kent, he remained prominent in Boston society. The picture of First Church and West Church congregations that emerges from the sample above (which is drawn from the period 1750-71, and which includes some persons who were members for only some of those years) is one of above average representation in the high-status circle of Boston society. In the case of First Church, it is clear that on the basis of wealth, public officeholding, and professional role, thirty-two of sixty-nine members were of high status.32 In West Church, twenty-three of eighty-six members were of high status.33 Many members of these churches ranked considerably above average on the basis of their wealth, and were in a position to make investments that would lift them into real wealth and high status.

Notes

PREFACE 1 Peter Oliver's Origin and Progress of the American Revolution, ed. Douglas Adair and John A. Schulz (San Marino, Calif., 1963), p. 42. 2 Ibid., p. 43. 3 Ibid. 4 Alice M. Baldwin, The New England Clergy and the American Revolution (New York, 1928), p. 169. See also John W. Thornton, The Pulpit of the American Revolution (Boston, i860); Frank Moore, The Patriot Preachers of the American Revolution (New York, 1862); C. Van Tyne, "Influence of the Clergy, and of the Religious and Sectarian Forces, on the American Revolution," American Historical Review 19 (October 1913): 59-72; Max Savelle, Seeds of Liberty: The Genesis of the American Mind (New York, 1948); Bernard Bailyn, The Ideological Origins of the American Revolution (Cambridge, Mass., 1967), and "Religion and Revolution: Three Biographical Studies," Perspectives in American History 4 (1970): 111-24. 5 Alan Heimert, Religion and the American Mind: From the Great Awakening to the Revolution (Cambridge, Mass., 1966), pp. 251, 12, 258. See also John C. Miller, "Religion, Finance, and Democracy in Massachusetts," New England Quarterly 6 (1933): 29-58; Conrad Wright, The Beginnings of Unitarianism in America (Boston, 1955); James W. Jones, The Shattered Synthesis: New England Puritanism before the Great Awakening (New Haven, 1973). 6 Joseph Haroutunian, Piety versus Moralism (New York, 1932). See also Joseph Henry Allen and Richard Eddy, A History of the Unitarians and the Universalists in America (New York, 1894); George Willis Cooke, Unitarianism in America (Boston, 1902); Herbert M. Morais, Deism in Eighteenth Century America (New York, 1934); Edward M. Griffin, Old Brick: Charles Chauncy of Boston, 1705-1787 (Minneapolis, 1980); Charles W. Akers, Called unto Liberty: A Life of Jonathan May hew, 1720-1766 (Cambridge, Mass., 1964); Alden Bradford, Memoir of the Life and Writings of Reverend Jonathan Mayhew, D.D. (Boston, 1838). Several writers have recognized the com126

NOTES TO PP. x-1

7

8

9 10 11 12

127

plexity of Chauncy's and Mayhew's thinking, but have not attempted an analysis of the full range of the ministers' ideas. In Republican Religion: The American Revolution and the Cult of Reason (New York, 1933), G. Adolf Koch wrote about Chauncy: "It leaves us with the paradox but not the contradiction that his liberalism was the natural outcome of his conservatism" (p. 192). Clinton Rossiter addresses both the religious ideas and the political philosophy of Mayhew, but does not join the two. See "The Life and Mind of Jonathan Mayhew," William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd ser., 7 (1950): 53058. Charles H. Lippy, in Seasonable Revolutionary: The Mind of Charles Chauncy (Chicago, 1981), has argued that Chauncy was a progressive thinker in matters of religion but was unwilling to publish work that might upset the traditional Puritan church order. Nathan Hatch has suggested a promising avenue of interpretation for the writings of Chauncy and Mayhew, as well as works by other mid-eighteenth-century writers by suggesting the mythic quality of certain elements in sermons by New England clergy. See "Origins of Civil Millenialism in America: New England Clergymen, War with France, and the Revolution," William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd ser., 31 (1974): 401-29. Akers does not provide enough analysis of Mayhew's ideas. Griffin does not sufficiently tie Chauncy's ideas as a whole to a social context. Heimert does not integrate Chauncy's and Mayhew's social theories with their theologies. Lippy does not address Chauncy's social theories. Charles Chauncy, "A Sketch of Eminent Men in New England, In a Letter from the Rev. Dr. Chauncy to Dr. Stiles," Collections, Massachusetts Historical Society, 1st ser., 10 (1809): 159. See Perry Miller, The New England Mind: The Seventeenth Century (Cambridge, Mass., 1939), p. 443. Mayhew Papers, Boston University Library, folders 9 and 10. See also Akers, p. 11. Chauncy, "Eminent Men," p. 160. The theories of Emile Durkheim and Victor W. Turner have been helpful to me in my study of the thought of Mayhew and Chauncy. I have been influenced by Durkheim's claim that a concordance, or "fit," exists between the structures of human social experience and the structure of religious ideas, and by Turner's hypothesis that social life is essentially an ongoing dialectical process, in which periods of highly structured social life alternate with periods of little or no structure. Emile Durkheim and Marcel Mauss, Primitive Classification, trans, and ed. Rodney Needham (Chicago, 1963). Victor W. Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Ithaca, 1969). INTRODUCTION

1 According to Joseph Jackson, New Englanders began to elaborate their doorways and to build larger and more ornate porches in about 1753. See American Colonial Architecture (Philadelphia, 1924), p. 160. A more recent study that stresses the mid-eighteenth-century interest in doorways is Ame-

128

2 3 4 5 6 7

8 9

10

11 12 13 14 15 16

NOTES T O PP. 1-5 lia F. Miller, Connecticut River Valley Doorways: An Eighteenth-Century Flowering (Boston, 1983). Ibid., p. 166. For an appropriate discussion of in-betweenness see Turner, The Ritual Process. Gordon Wood, The Creation of the American Republic, 1776—1787 (Chapel Hill, 1969), p. 73. Michael Kammen, People of Paradox: An Inquiry Concerning the Origins of American Civilization (New York, 1974), p. 184. Wood, p. 73. In relation to earlier Puritan conversion experiences, revival conversions were sudden and unsupervised. In the seventeenth century, the experience of regeneration was gradual, and was closely guided and tested by church leadership. Jon Butler may be partly right in his suggestion that the Great Awakening is interpretive fiction, that it was not as radical or dramatic an "event" as historians generally have believed. Nevertheless, as I argue below, the revival did contribute to eighteenth-century religion a large measure of individualism that helped to shape "liberal" religious thought, especially in New England. Though I agree with Murrin that seeming antievangelicals took hold of the reins of political leadership in the 1770s and 80s, I uphold the importance of the Great Awakening as an event that triggered the formation of liberal ideas in the 1740S-60S. See Jon Butler, "Enthusiasm Described and Decried: The Great Awakening as Interpretive Fiction," Journal of American History 69 (1982): 305-25, and John M. Murrin, "No Awakening, No Revolution? More Counterfactual Speculations," Reviews in American History 11 (1983): 161-71. The Works of President Edwards, 4 vols. (Worcester, Mass., 1808), 1:189-90. See J. G. A. Pocock, "Machiavelli, Harrington and English Political Ideologies in the Eighteenth Century," William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd ser., 22 (1965): 549-83; Caroline Robbins, The Eighteenth Century Commonwealthman: Studies in the Transmission, Development, and Circumstance of English Liberal Thought from the Restoration of Charles II until the War with the Thirteen Colonies (Cambridge, 1961). A summary of the relevant literature may be found in John B. Kirby, "Early American Politics - The Search for Ideology: An Historiographical Analysis and Critique of the Concept of 'Deference'," Journal of Politics 32 (1970): 808-38. See Wood, chap. I. John Shy, Toward Lexington: The Role of the British Army in the Coming of the American Revolution (Princeton, 1965). Jackson Turner Main, The Social Structure of Revolutionary America (Princeton, 1965), p. 229. Ibid., p. 193. See especially J. R. Pole, "Historians and the Problem of Early American Democracy," American Historical Review 67 (April 1962): 626-46. Edward Pessen, "Social Mobility in American History," Journal of Southern History 45 (May 1979): 168.

NOTES T O PP. 6-10

129

17 18

See Griffin, Old Brick, pp. 179, 187 n. 8. Bradford, Memoir, p. 12. Mayhew's family had been missionaries and proprietors in Martha's Vineyard since 1641. Chauncy, too, came from a "respectable" background: His great-grandfather had served as president of Harvard College. Quoted in Akers, Called unto Liberty, p. 25. 19 Collections, Massachusetts Historical Society, 7th ser., 74 (1918): xxiv. 20 The Works of John Adams, ed. Charles Francis Adams, 10 vols. (Boston,

1850-6), 10:301. 21 Ibid., pp. 271-2. 22 23

Henri Bergson, Creative Evolution, trans. Arthur Mitchell (New York, 1944), P- 195. Henri Bergson, The Two Sources of Morality and Religion, trans. R. Ashley

Audra and Cloudesley Brereton with the assistance of W. Horsfall Carter (New York, 1935). See chap. 3, "Dynamic Religion." See also Creative Evolution, pp. I95ff. Bergson wrote that "all around intelligence there lingers a fringe of intuition, vague and evanescent" (Morality and Religion, p. 201). This "fringe of intuition" cooperates with intelligence, or the conceptforming faculty in humans, to bring about a progressively more satisfying understanding of life. "Intuition" offers impressions, which intelligence attempts to refine into knowledge. Such action by the intellect, in turn, prods intuition to greater efforts, so that there is thus a "reciprocal interpenetration, endlessly continued creation" (Creative Evolution, p. 195). Bergson wrote of intuition: On the one hand, it will utilize the mechanisms of intelligence itself to show how intellectual molds cease to be strictly applicable; and on the other hand, by its own work, it will suggest to us the vague feeling, if nothing more, of what must take the place of intellectual molds. Thus, intuition may bring the intellect to recognize that life does not quite go into the category of the many, nor yet into that of the one; that neither mechanical causality nor finality can give a sufficient interpretation of the vital process. (Creative Evolution, p. 195) 1. THE HIDDEN WHOLE 1 Jonathan Mayhew, Discourse on Revelation XV. 3d, 4th (Boston, 1755), p. 38. 2 Jonathan Mayhew, Two Sermons on the Nature, Extent and Perfection of Divine Goodness (Boston 1763), p. 41. 3 Jonathan Mayhew, The Expected Dissolution ofAll Things, (Boston, 1755), p. H. 4 Jonathan Mayhew manuscript sermons, Huntington Library, San Marino. 5 Expected Dissolution, p. 25. 6 Jonathan Mayhew, Two Thanksgiving Discourses (Boston, 1759), pp. 58-9. 7 Jonathan Mayhew, Two Discourses Delivered, October 9, 1760 (Boston, 1760),

p. 10. 8 9

Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 57. Discourse on Revelation, p. 36.

i3o

NOTES TO PP. 10-16

10 Jonathan May hew, A Discourse Occasioned by the Death of The Honourable Stephen Sewall, Esq. (Boston, 1760), p. 35. 11 Discourse on Revelation, p. 14. 12 Ibid., p. 13. 13 Ibid., p. 17. 14 Jonathan Mayhew, Two Discourses Delivered November 23, 1758 (Boston, 1758), pp. 36-7. 15 Ibid. 16 Ibid., p. 36. 17 Jonathan Mayhew, God's Hand and Providence (Boston, 1760), pp. 8-9. 18 Ibid., p. 8. 19 Ibid. 20 Ibid., p. 10. 21 Two Discourses October g, 1760, p. 15. 22 Jonathan Mayhew Two Discourses Delivered October 25, 1759 (Boston, 1759), p. 5923 Expected Dissolution, p. 6; Discourse on Revelation, p. 49. 24 Discourse on Revelation, pp. 22-3. 25 Expected Dissolution, p. 28. 26 Discourse on Revelation, pp. 24-5. 27 Ibid., p. 25. 28 Ibid., p. 26. 29 Ibid. 30 Ibid., pp. 26-7 31 Ibid., p. 27. 32 Ibid., p. 28. 33 Ibid. 34 Two Discourses October g, 1760, p. 19. 35 Jonathan Mayhew, Practical Discourses Delivered on the Occasion of the Earthquakes in Nov., 1755 (Boston, 1760), pp. 370-1. 36 Discourse on Revelation, p. 34. 37 Huntington Library manuscripts. 38 Two Discourses October 25, 1739, pp. 58-9. 39 Discourse on Revelation, p. 30. 40 Charles Chauncy, Twelve Sermons (Boston, 1765), p. 114. 41 Ibid., pp. 55-6. 42 Ibid., p. 151. 43 Charles Chauncy, The Benevolence of the Deity (Boston, 1784), p. vi. 44 Ibid., p. 61. 45 Ibid., p. 179. 46 Ibid., pp. 80, 186. 47 Ibid., p. 56. 48 Ibid., p. 113. 49 The civil government is discussed in detail in Chapter 3. 50 Charles Chauncy, An Unbridled Tongue (Boston, 1741), p. 39. 51 Twelve Sermons, p. 164. 52 Charles Chauncy, Seasonable Thoughts on the State of Religion in New-England (Boston, 1743), p. 137.

NOTES TO PP. 16-23 53

131

Charles Chauncy, Letter to a Friend (Boston, 1774), p. 33; Charles Chauncy, Trust in God (Boston, 1770), p. 26. Charles Chauncy, Marvellous Things (Boston, 1745), pp. 7-8. Trust in God, pp. 27-8. Marvellous Things, p. 8. Trust in God, p. 26. Benevolence of the Deity, p. 60. Charles Chauncy, Earthquakes a Token of the Righteous Anger of God (Boston, 1755), P- 7Ibid., p. 8. Ibid. Benevolence of the Deity, p. 70. Twelve Sermons, pp. 55-6. Benevolence of the Deity, p. 178. Ibid., p. 6. Ibid., p. 22. Earthquakes a Token, p. 9. Trust in God, p. 28. Twelve Sermons, p. 106.

54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69

2. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

RELIGION

George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By (Chicago, 1980), p. 3Harrison Gray, "Memoir of Dr. Mayhew," ed. Louis Leonard Tucker, Proceedings of the Bostonian Society, January 17, 1961, pp. 35, 30. Mayhew, Discourse Occasioned by the Death of The Honourable Stephen Sewall, Esq., p. 29. Mayhew Papers, Boston University Library, folder 10, pp. 6-7. Akers, p. 29. Mayhew Papers, Boston University Library, folder 10, p. 3. Ibid., p. 18. Ibid. Jonathan Mayhew, Seven Sermons (Boston, 1749), p. 74. Ibid., p. 42. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 43. Ibid., p. 91. Ibid. Jonathan Mayhew, Sermons on the Following Subjects (Boston, 1755), p. 26. Chauncy, "Eminent Men," p. 160. Griffin, p. 112. In a letter to Ezra Stiles in 1768, Chauncy wrote: "I have still another piece, which, when I have leisure, I will publish with all freedom. It wants little more than transcribing to finish it. It is upon the benevolence of God, its nature, illustration and consistency with evil both natural and moral. This was written many years ago. It will make a moderate octavo volume" ("Eminent Men," p. 163). Griffin points out that "a

132

19 20

21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

29 30 31 32

NOTES TO PP. 24-28 long section on p. 12 of Chauncy's sermon The Earth Delivered, preached January 22, 1756, is identical with a paragraph toward the end of The Benevolence of the Deity (p. 258). This suggests that the latter work was complete by early 1756" (Griffin, p. 203 n.io). Lippy has argued for understanding the delayed publication of this "pudding" of treatises as a sign of Chauncy's caution. See Lippy, pp. 107—31. P. Miller, New England Mind: The Seventeenth Century, pp. n 1-239. William Perkins, The Works of That Famous and Worthy Minister of Christ in the Universitie of Cambridge, Mr. William Perkins, 3 vols. (London, 1826-31), 2:751. William Ames, The Marrow of Sacred Divinity, trans, and ed. John D. Eusden (Philadelphia, 1968), p. 308. Thomas Goodwin, The Works of Thomas Goodwin, 10 vols. (Edinburgh, 1863), 6:515John Winthrop, "A Model of Christian Charity," in Conrad Cherry, ed., God's New Israel (Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1971), p. 42. Alan Simpson, Puritanism in Old and New England (Chicago, 1955), pp. 2, 24. M. M. Knappen, Tudor Puritanism: A Chapter in the History of Idealism (Chicago, 1939; repr. 1970), p. 34<5Perry Miller, Errand into the Wilderness (New York, 1956), pp. 142-3. Norman Pettit, The Heart Prepared: Grace and Conversion in Puritan Spiritual Life (New Haven, 1966), p. 205. P. Miller, New England Mind: Seventeenth Century, Chaps. 14-15. This is not to say that "personal" religion - religion of "heart" - disappeared. O n the contrary, it flourished, but was less visible than it had been in the early seventeenth century. See Charles E. Hambrick-Stowe, The Practice of Piety: Puritan Devotional Practices in Seventeenth-Century New England (Chapel Hill, 1982); David Levin, Cotton Mather: The Young Life of the Lord's Remembrancer 1663-1703 (Cambridge, Mass., 1978); Robert Middlekauff, The Mathers: Three Generations of Puritan Intellectuals 1^6-1728 (New York, 1971); Robert G. Pope, The Half-Way Covenant: Church Membership in Puritan New England (Princeton, 1969); and Harry S. Stout, The New England Soul: Preaching and Religious Culture in Colonial New England (New York, 1986). Richard L. Bushman, From Puritan to Yankee: Character and the Social Order in Connecticut, 16^0-176^ (New York, 1967), p. 220. Jonathan Edwards, A Faithful Narrative of the Surprising Work of God, in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, A.M., 2 vols. (London, 1845), 1:347-8. A good summary of the controversy can be found in Edwin Scott Gaustad, The Great Awakening in New England (Gloucester, Mass., 1965). Letter from Thomas Parsons to Thomas Prince, Jr., April 14, 1744, published in Christian History, ed. Thomas Prince, Jr. (Boston, 1745), p. 127; letter from George Griswold, ibid., p. 105; letter from Gilbert Tennent, ibid., p. 300; Jonathan Edwards, The Distinguishing Marks of a Work of the Spirit of God (Boston, 1741), p. 9; Charles Chauncy, A Letter to a Friend Concerning the Late Religious Commotion in New England (Boston, 1743), pp. 4-5-

N O T E S T O PP. 28-34 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

56 57 58 59 60

133

Edwards, A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections, in Works (1845), 1:291. George Whitefield, The Works of the Reverend George Whitefxeld, 8 vols. (London, 1872), 5:267. J o n a t h a n Parsons, Wisdom Justified (Boston, 1742), p . 18. J o n a t h a n Dickinson, The Witness of the Spirit (Boston, 1740), p p . 2 6 - 8 . M a y h e w Papers, Boston University Library, folder 10, p p . 7 - 8 . Ibid., letter of M a r c h 26, 1742. Ibid. Mayhew, Two Discourses November 23, 1758, p. 41. Ibid., p p . 41—2. Ibid., p . 4 1 . M a y h e w w r o t e that speculative k n o w l e d g e alone was nothing but "furniture of the head." See Sermons on the Following Subjects, pp. 1 1 12. In 1755 M a y h e w lamented the overrational tendencies of s o m e persons w i t h the w o r d s " W e are manifestly running into an extreme; at least m a n y a m o n g s t us are under a notion of a m o r e rational religion" (ibid., p. 16). For M a y h e w , "true repentance" consisted "in the turning of the heart from folly and sin, to w i s d o m , virtue and holiness." See M a y h e w Papers, H u n t ington Library: s e r m o n manuscript, December 1762. M a y h e w , of course, did n o t w a n t to turn the heart completely to the affections, like the "enlightened Ideots" of the revival w h o " i m p u t e all their ravings and follies and wild imaginations to the spirit of God; and usually think themselves converted, w h e n the p o o r u n h a p p y creatures are only out of their w i t s " (Seven Sermons, p. 39). J o n a t h a n M a y h e w , Christian Sobriety, (Boston, 1763), p . 177. Ibid., p . 128. Ibid., p . 197. Seasonable Thoughts, p. 418. Ministers Cautioned against the Occasions of Contempt (Boston, 1744), p. 29. O n these m e n see Gaustad, p p . 3 2 - 4 1 . Ibid., p . 98. For Gaustad and other scholars, Chauncy's understanding of religion is diametrically opposed to E d w a r d s ' s . E d w a r d s , A Treatise, p . 281. Ministers Cautioned, pp. 29—30. Ibid., p . 30. Seven Sermons, p. 95. Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 7. "Supernatural Rationalism" was first used by A. C. McGiffert to refer to the thinking of Tillotson, Clarke, and Locke. See his Protestant Thought before Kant ( N e w Y o r k , 1961). T h e term was picked up by C o n r a d Wright to refer to American followers of Tillotson, Clarke, and Locke. See Wright's The Liberal Christians: Essays on American Unitarian History (Boston, 1970), esp. chap. 1. Q u o t e d in McGiffert, p . 195. John Tillotson, The Example of Jesus in Doing Good, in Works, 12 vols. (London, 1820), 2:189. John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690), 2.1.2. Ibid., 4.17.23. Q u o t e d in McGiffert, p . 205.

134

NOTES TO PP. 34-41

61

John Toland, Christianity Not Mysterious (1696); Anthony Collins, Essay Concerning the Use of Reason in Propositions, the Evidence Whereof Depends on Human Testimony (1707). 62 Samuel Clarke, A Discourse Concerning the Unchangeable Obligations of Natural Religion, and the Truth and Certainty of the Christian Revelation (London, 1705). See esp. Proposition vii.1.2. 63 P. Miller, New England Mind: Seventeenth Century, p. 420. 64 Cotton Mather, Manuductio ad Ministerium (1726) (New York, 1938), p. 38. 65 Jonathan Mayhew, The Right and Duty of Private Judgement (Boston, 1749), 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97

P- 43. Charles Chauncy, Five Dissertations on the Scripture Account of the Fall (London, 1785), pp. 32-3. Ebenezer Gay, Natural Religion as Distinguish'd from Revealed (Boston, 1759), p. 12. Bushman, p. 206. Charles Chauncy, Enthusiasm Describ'd and Caution}d Against (Boston, 1742), p. 7. Charles Chauncy, The Only Compulsion (Boston, 1739), p. 25. Ibid., p. 26. Ibid., p. 3. Ibid., p. 10. Ibid., p. 3. Enthusiasm Describ'd, p. 12. Ministers Cautioned, p. 14. Ibid., p. 6. Enthusiasm Describ'd, p. 12. Ibid., pp. 11-12. See Heimert, p. 47; Jones, pp. 185, 189. Benevolence of the Deity, p. 61. Ibid., p. 128. Ibid. Ibid., p. 136. Ibid., p. 137. Ibid., p. 128. Ibid., p. 135. Ibid., p. 62. Ibid., p. 61. Ibid., p. 62. Five Dissertations, p. 32. Ibid., p. 35. Ibid., p. 33. Charles Chauncy, The Duty of Ministers (Boston, 1766), p. 18. Ministers Cautioned, p. 9. Ibid., p. 10. See Twelve Sermons, pp. 115-20. Mayhew's and Chauncy's sometimes naive trust in reason is contrary to the suspicious, even pessimistic, view of many Enlightenment writers (see Peter Gay, The Enlightenment: An Inter-

NOTES TO PP. 41-46

98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105

106 107 108 109 no in 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129

135

pretation [New York, 1966], pp. 72-203). It should be remembered, however, that Mayhew and Chauncy viewed "reason" essentially as a dialectical process, not as a simple set of principles that were easily applied to concrete human situations so as to make possible some clear and final judgments about right and wrong. Moreover, Chauncy and Mayhew were, as I have pointed out, sometimes not so naive. They were quite aware that only through the most conscientious effort (even from those experienced in thinking "reasonably") could one avoid falling into dangerous "extremes." Reasonable thinking was a matter of strenuous meditation and experimentation and reflection upon the circumstances of a given situation, not a simple and secure mechanism for the easy, natural apprehension of truth. Kenneth Burke, A Grammar of Motives (New York, 1945), p. 403. Charles Chauncy, Man's Life Considered under the Similitude of a Vapour (Boston, 1731), p. 15. Ibid., p. 14. Ibid., p. 1. Ibid., p. 13. Ibid., pp. 8, 13. Ibid., p. 14. A Discourse occasioned by the Death of the Revernd [sic] Jonathan Mayhew, D.D. (Boston, 1766), pp. 8-9. Chauncy does not identify the source of the internal quotation. Two Discourses November 23, 1758, p. 43. Sermons on the Following Subjects, p. 14. Ibid., p. 338. Ibid., pp. 8-9 Seven Sermons, p. 57. Ibid., p. 31. Ibid., pp. 57-8. Ibid., p. 80. Ibid., p. 73. Christian Sobriety, p. 21. Sermons on the Following Subjects, p. 32. Seven Sermons, p. 79. Burke, pp. 312-13. Ibid., pp. 311-12. Sermons on the Following Subjects, pp. 108-9. Ibid., p. 109. Wright, Beginnings ofUnitarianism, p. 120. Sermons on the Following Subjects, pp. 171-2. Wright, p. 121. Sermons on the Following Subjects, p. 109. Ibid., p. 217. Ibid., p. 215. Ibid., p. 216. Ibid., p. 327.

136

NOTES TO PP. 47-53

130 Twelve Sermons, p. 42. 131 Ibid., p. 43. 132 Ibid., p. 46. 133 Ibid., p. 124. 134 Ibid., p. 60. 135 Ibid., p. 115. 136 Ibid., p. 116. 137 Ibid., p. 115. 138 Ibid., p. 120. 139 Ibid. 140 Ibid., p. 115. 141 Ibid., p. 121. 142 Ibid., p. 123. 143 Charles Chauncy, The New Creature Describ'd (Boston, 1741), p. 5. 144 Ibid., p. 7. 145 Ibid., pp. 7, 9. 146 Ibid., p. 9. 147 Ibid., p. 13. 148 Ibid., pp. 13-14. 149 Ibid., pp. 17-18. 150 Ibid., p. 35. 151 Ibid., p. 37. 152 Ibid., p. 36. 153 Ibid., p. 35. 154 Charles Chauncy, The Out-pouring of the Holy Ghost (Boston, 1742), p. 5. 155 Ibid. 156 Two Discourses October g, 1760, p. 6n. 157 Huntington Library Manuscripts, sermon of March 1749. 158 Jonathan Mayhew, Striving to Enter In at the Strait Gate Explain''d and Inculcated (Boston, 1761), p. 7. 159 Ibid., pp. 32-3. His definition is on p. 8. 160 According to Burke, dialectic and drama are equatable in terms of the process each describes. See pp. 511-12. 161 Seven Sermons, pp. 90, 101. 162 Sermons on the Following Subjects, pp. 33, 77; Christian Sobriety, p. iv, for examples. 163 See, for example, Sermons on the Following Subjects, p. 209; Striving to Enter, p. 44; Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 35. 164 Seven Sermons, p. 5. 165 Ibid., p. 13. 166 Ibid., pp. 13-14. 167 Ibid., p. 13. 168 Ibid., p. 16. 169 Mayhew, Two Discourses October 25, 1759, p. 63. 170 Benevolence of the Deity, p. 176. 171 Ibid., p. 176. 172 Ibid., p. 179.

NOTES TO PP. 53-62 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186

Ibid., p. 178. Ibid., pp. 177-8. Ebenezer Frothingham, The Articles of Faith and Practice with the Covenant (New York, 1750), p. 7. Whitefield, 5:108. Edwards, Works (1845), 1:610. Jonathan Edwards, Works, ed. E. Hickman, 2 vols. (London, 1865), 2:295. Gilbert Tennent, The Virtue of Charity (Boston, 1743), p. 19; The Late Association for Defense, Encourag'd (Philadelphia, 1748), pp 19, 20-31. William Haller, The Rise of Puritanism (1938) (New York, 1957), p. 18. Edwards, Nature of True Virtue, in Works (1865), i:i27ff. Whitefield, 5:343. Bushman, p. 272 Samuel Davies, A Sermon Delivered at Nassau Hall (Boston, 1761), p. 32. Heimert, p. 167. Christian Sobriety, p. 50. 3.

1 2 3 4 5

6 7 8 9 10

11 12 13 14 15

137

GOVERNMENT

William Livingston et al., The Independent Reflector, ed. Milton Klein (Cambridge, 1963), p. 330. Ibid., p. 115. Ibid., pp. 361, 364. Bushman, esp. chaps. 4 - 5 . Collections of Cato's Letters appeared in eight London editions between 1721 and 1747, and two American editions of The Independent Whig, another Trenchard and Gordon vehicle, appeared in the same period. David L. Jacobson writes that English copies of Trenchard and Gordon were to be "found widely in the colonies and were, as will be suggested below, read, admired, and frequently copied or reprinted in part." See The English Libertarian Heritage (New York, 1965), p. xxxi. In Jacobson, pp. 83, 85, 256, 257. A Brief Narrative of the Case and Trial of John Peter Zenger Printer of the New York Weekly Journal, ed. Stanley N . Katz (Cambridge, 1963), p. 98. Robbins, Eighteenth Century Commonwealthman; Pocock, "Machiavelli"; Bailyn, Ideological Origins. Jonathan Mayhew, The Snare Broken (Boston, 1766), p. 20. See Bailyn, Ideological Origins, pp. 35-54; Pauline Maier, From Resistance to Revolution: Colonial Radicals and the Development of American Opposition to Britain, 1765-1776 (New York, 1972), chap. 2; Clinton Rossiter, Seedtime of the Republic: The Origin of the American Tradition of Political Liberty (New York, 1953), pp 141-7. Snare Broken, p. 34. Bailyn, Ideological Origins, pp. 246-72. Mayhew, Two Discourses November 23, 1758, p. 48. Jonathan Mayhew, Popish Idolatry (Boston, 1750), p. 48. Snare Broken, p. 34.

138

NOTES T O PP. 62-68

16 Jonathan Mayhew, A Discourse Concerning Unlimited Submission (Boston, 1750), p. 44. 17 Snare Broken, p. 37. 18 Bortman Collection, Boston University Library, folder 11, p. 4. 19 Ibid., p. 5. 20 Ibid. 21 Ibid. 22 Ibid. 23 Ibid., p. 8. See Snare Broken, p. 35, for reference to Locke. 24 John Locke, Of Civil Government, II.ix.131. 25 Ibid., II.vii.87. 26 Snare Broken, p. 42. 27 Baldwin, p. 43. 28 Martha L. Counts, "The Political Views of the Eighteenth Century New England Clergy As Expressed in Their Election Sermons" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Columbia University, 1956), pp. 85-95. 29 See Baldwin, p. 43. 30 Charles Chauncy, Civil Magistrates Must Be Just (Boston, 1747), p. 8. 31 Ibid. 32 Ibid., p. 933 Ibid., pp. 8-10. 34 Ibid., pp. 9-10. 35 Ibid. 36 Ibid., p. 13. 37 Ibid., p. 44. 38 Ibid., p. 47. 39 Ibid., p. 51. 40 Pocock, p. 565. 41 See Michael Downs, James Harrington (Boston, 1977), pp. 18-19. 42 James Harrington, Works: The Oceana and Other Works, ed. John Toland (London, 1771), p. 37. 43 Ibid., p. 38. 44 Pocock, esp. pp. 565-75. 45 Henry Neville, Plato Redivivus: or, a Dialogue Concerning Government (London, 1681), pp. 140-1. 46 Ibid., esp. pp. 237-40. 47 Pocock, p. 370. 48 See Robbins, pp. 35-41. 49 See John Locke, Two Treatises of Government (1690) (Cambridge, 1962). 50 John Milton, Prose Selections, ed. Merritt Y. Hughes (New York, 1947), p. 280. 51 Ibid., p. 284. 52 Ibid., p. 289. 53 Algernon Sidney, Discourses on Government (Edinburgh, 1710), p. 122. 54 Ibid., p. 147. 55 Ibid., p. 48. 56 Ibid., pp. 312-13.

NOTES TO PP. 69-76 57

58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72

73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92

139

Especially popular themes were: the tendency of power to corrupt, the necessity for balance in government, and the contractual nature of civil authority. Robert Moles worth, An Account (London, 1694), preface. Quoted in Maier, p. 31. Robert Molesworth, Principles of a Real Whig (London, 1711), pp. 192-212. Benjamin Hoadly, The Original and Institution of Civil Government Discuss'd (London, 1710), p. 5. Ibid., pp. 143, 145 and sects, I-IV. Ibid., p. 141. Pocock, pp. 572-3. A Collection is a selection of Bolingbroke's many essays on government. A Collection of Political Tracts by the Author of the Dissertation upon Parties (London, 1775), pp. 291—2. Ibid., pp. 243-4. Ibid., p. 274. Ibid., p. 293; see also Isaac Kramnick, Bolingbroke and His Circle: The Politics of Nostalgia in the Age of Walpole (Cambridge, Mass., 1968), pp. 172-7. Quoted in Kramnick, pp. 101-3. Pole, p. 629. John B. Kirby, "Early American Politics - The Search for Ideology: An Historiographical Analysis and Critique of the Concept of 'Deference'," Journal of Politics 32 (1970): 808-38. Richard Buel, Jr., "Democracy and the American Revolution: A Frame of Reference," William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd ser., 21 (1964): 178-9. Kramnick, p. 102. Bailyn, Ideological Origins, pp. 55-6. Ibid., p. 56. Benevolence of the Deity, p. 107. For the plagiarism charge see Bailyn's introduction to A Discourse in his edition Pamphlets of the American Revolution (Cambridge, Mass., 1965). Sermons on the Following Subjects, p. 466. See above, Chapter 1. Mayhew, especially, was a follower of Boyle. His notes on Boyle are in Bortman Collection, folder 10. Wright, p. 183. See Hegel's The Phenomenology of the Spirit (1807) and The Philosophy of History (1822). Civil Magistrates, p. 10. Ibid., p. 51. Ibid., p. 10. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 11. Ibid., pp. 12-13, I 2 Ibid., p. 14. Ibid.

NOTES TO PP. 77-81 93 94 95 96

riortman Collection, lolaer 10 , p. n . Christian Sobriety, p. 168.

Huntington Library collection,, Sermon II, March 1759, pp. 13-14.

103

Ibid., pp. 14, 21. Ibid., p. 21. Ibid. Ibid., p. 29. Ibid., p. 31. Ibid. Ibid., p. 23. Unlimited Submission, p. 33.

104

Ibid., pp. 30-3.

105 106

Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 2 2 . Ibid., pp. 20-1. Ibid., p. 21. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 22. Ibid., p. 25. Ibid. Bortman Collection, folder n , p. 5Ibid., p. 6. Unlimited Submission, p. 38n. Ibid., p. 35. Bortman Collection, folder 11 , p. 6. Unlimited Submission, p. 35. Civil Magistrates, p. 26. Ibid., p. 7. Ibid., pp. 34-5. Bailyn, Ideological Origins, p. 302. In summarizing the conflict between

97 98 99 100 101 102

107 108 109

no III 112 113 114 115 Il6 117 Il8 119 120 121 122 123

these two competing systems, Bailyn suggests that as late as the eve of the Revolution the matter was stil 1 unresolved: For the ancient notion that leadership must devolve upon men whose "personal authority and greatness," whose "eminence or nobility," were such that "every man subordinate is ready to yield a willing submission without comtempt or repining" - ordinary people not easily conceding to an authority "conferred upon a mean man . . . no better than selected out of their own rank" - this traditional notion had never been repudiated, was still honored and repeated. But now, in the heated atmosphere of incipient rebellion, the idea of leaders as servants of the people was pushed to its logical extreme and its subversive potentialities revealed. By 1774 it followed from the belief that "lawful rulers are the servants of the people" that they were "exalted above their brethren not for their own sakes, but for the benefit of the people; and submission is yielded, not on account of their persons considered exclusively on the authority they are

NOTES TO PP. 81-87

141

clothed with, but of those laws which in the exercise of this authority are made by them conformably to the laws of nature and equity." In the distribution of offices, it was said in 1770, "merit only in the candidate should count - not birth, or wealth, or loyalty to the great; but merit only." (p. 309) 124 125 126 127

128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149

Adams, Defense of the Constitution of the Government of the United States of America in Works, 4:392, 397. Edward M. Cook, Jr., The Fathers of the Towns: Leadership and Community Structure in Eighteenth-Century New England (Baltimore, 1976), pp. 93-4. Civil Magistrates p. 24. Ibid., pp. 25, 24. Chauncy, obviously, claimed that qualities such as justness and honesty were important in a leader, and he also could recognize certain aspects of "unfitness." But he did not offer any systematic guidelines for judging the "suitability" of leaders. See Chauncy, "Eminent Men," p. 160. Bortman Collection, folder 10, pp. 8-9. Ibid., p. 9. Benevolence of the Deity, p. iii. Ibid., p. 18. Seven Sermons, p. 12. Ibid., pp. 112, 119. Ibid., p. 119. Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 16. Ibid. Seven Sermons, p. 120. Ibid. Benevolence of the Deity, p. 42. Ibid., p. vii. Seven Sermons, pp. 122, 123. Ibid. Ibid., p. 123. Ibid., p. 126. Benevolence of the Deity, p. 24. Ibid., p. 19. Ibid., p. 25. Ibid,, p. iii. 4.

1 2 3 4 5 6

SOCIETY

Rossiter, Seedtime of the Republic, p. 86. Devereux Jarratt, The Life of Devereux Jarratt (Baltimore, 1806), p. 14. The Diary of Samuel Sewall i6j4-ij2g, 2 vols. (New York, 1973), 1:573. In "Notes and Queries," William and Mary Quarterly, 1st ser., 3 (October 1894): 136. See Frederick B. Tolles, Meeting House and Counting House, The Quaker Merchants of Colonial Philadelphia, 1682-1763 (Chapel Hill, 1948), p. 112. Main, pp. 229-30.

H2

NOTES TO PP. 87-93

7 John Day, Remarks on American Affairs, repr. in Jack P. Greene, "Social Structure and Political Behavior in Revolutionary America: John Day's Remarks on American Affairs," William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd ser., 31 (1974): 481-94 (p. 485). 8 Sermons on the Following Subjects, p. 466. 9 Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 33. The immediate reference is to the cosmos. 10 Jonathan Mayhew, A Discourse Occasioned by the Death of King George II (Boston, 1761), p. 42. 11 Christian Sobriety, pp 272-3. 12 The Snare Broken, pp. 41-2. 13 Christian Sobriety, p. 159. 14 Seasonable Thoughts, pp. 44-7. 15 Ibid., p. 42. 16 Ibid., p. 366. 17 Enthusiasm Describ'd, p. 11. 18 Seasonable Thoughts, p. 366. 19 Charles Chauncy, Gifts of the Spirit (Boston, 1742), p. 12. 20 Seasonable Thoughts, p. 32. 21 Christian Sobriety, p. 12. 22 Sermons on the Following Subjects, p. 350. 23 Christian Sobriety, p. 151. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid., p. 152. 26 Charles Chauncy, Christian Love (Boston, 1773), p. 14. 27 Ibid. 28 Main, p. 193. 29 Rossiter, Seedtime of the Republic, p. 89. 30 Christian Sobriety, p. 156. 31 Charles Chauncy, The Idle-Poor Secludedfromthe Bread of Charity (Boston, 1752), p. 6. 32 Ibid., p. 13. 33 Christian Sobriety, pp. 156-7. 34 Idle-Poor, pp. 7, 11. 35 Striving to Enter, p. 8. 36 Christian Sobriety, pp. 262-3. 37 Idle-Poor, p. 14. 38 Christian Sobriety, pp. 269-70. 39 Idle-Poor, p. 14. 40 Ibid. 41 Ibid. 42 Sermons on the Following Subjects, p. 467. 43 Mayhew's tone here is against those who would emphasize worldly riches and neglect spiritual concerns, but it is clear that he recognizes the possibility of persons becoming rich by working hard. 44 Sermons on the Following Subjects, p. 467. 45 Mayhew wrote: "But I would rather be the poor son of a good man, who spent a long life in the laborious and apostolic employment of preaching the

NOTES TO PP. 93-97

46 47 48 49 50 51 52

53 54 55 56 57 58 59

60

61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70

143

unsearchable riches of Christ to poor Indians, than the rich son, and heir, of one who, by temporalizing in religion and tampering with politics, by flattering the great, and prostituting his conscience, has made the way to a bishoprick and the worldly dignity of a peer." Quoted in Bradford, p. i. Bradford took the quote from Mayhew's Remarks on an Anonymous Writer. Christian Sobriety, p. 159. Rossiter, Seedtime of the Republic, p. 88. Tolles, p. 112. Main, p. 221. Ibid. G. B. Warden, "Inequality and Instability in Eighteenth Century Boston," Journal of Interdisciplinary History 6 (1976): 600. See James A. Henretta, "Economic and Social Structure in Colonial Boston" William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd ser., 22 (1965): 75-92; Gary B. Nash, "Urban Wealth and Poverty in Pre-Revolutionary America," Journal of Interdisciplinary History 6 (1976): 545-84; Alan Kulikoff, "The Progress of Inequality in Revolutionary Boston," William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd ser., 28 (1971): 375-412. Nash, pp. 576-7; G. B. Warden, Boston 1689-1776 (Boston, 1970), p. 103; Warden, "Inequality," p. 589. Nash, p. 577; Warden, Boston, p. 128. Warden, "Inequality," pp. 589-91; Nash, pp. 576-7. Warden, "Inequality," p. 591. Exchange of local currency to sterling went from 8 percent in 1750 to 75 percent by 1777. See Warden, Boston, pp. 149-50. Rossiter, Seedtime of the Republic, p. 93. Obviously, Chauncy and Mayhew were more than just observers. Their experiences among these congregations were very important in shaping their own ideas about religion and society. Records of the First Church in Boston, 1630-1868, ed. Richard D. Pierce, Publications of the Colonial Society of Massachusetts, 39 (Boston, 1961), p. 123. James Spear Loring, The Hundred Boston Orators (Boston, 1853), p. 10. See Walter Muir Whitehill, Boston: A Topographical History (Cambridge, Mass., 1963), p. 25. Ibid., p. 26. Some Cursory Remarks Made by James Birket in His Voyage to North America 1730-1751 (New Haven, Conn., 1916), pp. 20-1. See "Records of West Church, Boston, Massachusetts," New England Historical and Genealogical Register 91 (1937): 340. Ibid., pp. 340-1. See also Annie Haven Thwing, The Crooked and Narrow Streets of the Town of Boston (Boston, 1920), pp. 203-4. Dr. Alexander Hamilton, Gentleman's Progress: The Itinerarium of Dr. Alexander Hamilton, ed. Carl Bridenbaugh (Chapel Hill, 1948), p. 109. Ibid. Akers, p. 45; Thwing, pp. 203-10. George E. Ellis, "Address of George E. Ellis, D.D. LL.D.," The West Church, Boston: Commemorative Services (Boston, 1887), p. 53.

H4

NOTES TO PP. 98-100

71 Akers, pp. 54, 53. 72 See Appendix, "Status of Members of First Church and West Church." 73 Both congregations included persons who had greatly increased their wealth over a period of several decades. One such case is that ofJohn Gill of West Church. Gill inherited 59 pounds in 1735, a sum that placed him no higher than the bottom third of the economic order. By 1771 he had increased his wealth to 926 pounds and had risen to the top 5 percent of Boston property owners. Similar examples can be found for First Church members. Richard Salter received only 5 pounds in 1750, following the death of his mother. By 1771 he was listed in the top 10 percent of property owners with a wealth of 760 pounds. His uncle, John Salter, inherited 7 pounds in 1720, a sum that ranked him in the bottom third of property owners. By 1771 John had accumulated wealth of 1,163 pounds, enough to place him at the very top of the social order. The 73 pounds that Samuel Doggett inherited in 1747 ranked him squarely in the middle third of property owners. By 1771 he had risen to the top 12 percent, with property totaling 315 pounds. See Suffolk County Probate Records, 32:256-7, 304; 43:212-13, 489; 22:129-30; 41:99-100. All wealth figures are given in pounds sterling, so as to account for inflation of the currency and thus avoid making a distorted comparison. I have used the tables in Warden ("Inequality," p. 599) to determine economic rank on the basis of probate inventories. I have also used the figures in Warden (p. 591) to convert pounds Massachusetts to pounds sterling. 74 The impact that life on West Forty-fifth Street made upon Rauschenbusch is well known and is often referred to by Rauschenbusch himself. In the introduction to Christianity and the Social Crisis (New York, 1913) Rauschenbusch wrote: I have written this book to discharge a debt. For eleven years I was pastor among the working people on the West Side of New York City. I shared their life as well as I then knew, and used up the early strength of my life in their service. . . . If this book in some far-off way helps to ease the pressure that bears them down and increases the forces that bear them up, I shall meet the Master of my life with better confidence, (p. xv) 75

Lippy suggests that the' Chauncys were closely linked to the Sewalls throughout the eighteenth century. This linkage included marriage (p. 4). 76 Arthur O. Lovejoy, The Great Chain of Being: A Study of the History of an Idea (Cambridge, Mass., 1936). 77 Ibid. 78 Two Sermons on the Nature; p. 28. 79 Benevolence of the Deity, p. 12. 80 Ibid., p. 54. 81 Ibid., p. 55. 82 Expected Dissolution, p. 12. 83 Benevolence of the Deity, p. 81. 84 Seven Sermons, p. 127. 85 Civil Magistrates, p. 8.

NOTES TO PP. 100-106 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102

103 104

105 106 107 108 109 no in

112 113

114 115 116 117

H5

Benevolence of the Deity, p. 157. Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 70. Benevolence of the Deity, p. 159 Ibid., p, 86. Ibid., p. 191. Ibid., p. 80. Ibid., p. 108. Ibid., p. n o . Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 31. Benevolence of the Deity, p. i n . Seven Sermons, p. 33. Quoted in Lovejoy, p. 257. Ibid., p. 258. See Lovejoy, esp. p. 242. Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 60. Ibid., pp. 60-1. Benevolence of the Deity, p. 113. Chauncy wondered if a divine plan that gave persons fully matured faculties instead of faculties that needed to be developed "would . . . have discovered greater benevolence than is discovered in the method that now takes place?" He replied that it would not, because "putting intellectual attainments into the power of creatures themselves, in a good measure, making them possible only of due care and diligence, is the best adapted of any method" (ibid., pp. n 6 - 1 7 ) . Ibid., p. 156. Edmund Morgan, ed., Puritan Political Ideas (New York, 1965), p. xxxvi. Observations on the concordance between social theory and "cosmic" theory can be found in Durkheim and Mauss and in Douglas. William Perkins, in Morgan, p. 51. Perry Miller, ed., The American Puritans: Their Prose and Poetry (New York, 1956), p. 116. William Hubbard, "The Happiness of a People" (1676), in ibid., p. 119. Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 81. Ibid., p. 33. See Kramnick, pp. 100-4. Two Sermons on the Nature, p. 34. If the good of the individual and the good of the species had to "go together," it followed that the good of the individual and the good of society were also closely related. In Seven Sermons Mayhew wrote: "Publick happiness is increased no farther than the happiness of individuals is so" (p. 127). Seven Sermons, p. 128. As Mayhew wrote, regarding spiritual advancement, "I suppose, it means advancing towards this day, by running our Christian race swiftly, with utmost diligence; and making progress in holiness" (Expected Dissolution, p. 46). Seven Sermons, p. 128. Gifts of the Spirit, p. 16. Ibid., p. 17. Ibid., p. 26.

i46

NOTES TO PP. 106-111

118 Benevolence of the Deity, p. 57. 119 Ibid., p. 58. 120 Ibid. 121 Idle-Poor, p. 11. 122 Ibid., p. 14. 123 Ibid., p. 16. 124 Ibid., p. 11. 125 Christian Sobriety, p. 274. CONCLUSION 1 Benevolence of the Deity, p. 83. 2 Huntington Library collection, Sermon II, March 1750, p. 6. 3 Sermon Delivered at Nassau Hall, p. 32. 4 One way of identifying the "religious" quality of the ideas of Chauncy and Mayhew is to point to their stress upon mystery and their reliance upon imagination in conceptualizing the "hidden balance." Another approach to discussing the religious character of the thought of Chauncy and Mayhew might be drawn from the work of Victor Turner. Turner's work suggests that religion is often associated with the perception of liminality - the "betwixt and between" - in a culture. Chauncy's and Mayhew's consistent emphasis upon "mediums," balance, and elements that are "coincident and mutually imply each other" might be taken as one expression of their religious worldview. See Turner, p. 97. 5 In the wider view of things, such attempts at a "balanced" or "value-free" sociology as Chauncy and Mayhew made were, finally, taxonomic and therefore essentially conservative. See Alvin W. Gouldner, The Coming Crisis of Western Sociology (New York, 1970). For a suggestive analysis of "liberalism" (at least partly appropriate to Chauncy and Mayhew) in American history, see Louis Hartz, The Liberal Tradition in America (New York, 1955), esp. pp. 3-66. 6 Twentieth-century historians often have trouble understanding the eighteenth-century belief that cosmic order was based upon a principle of dialectics that could never be fully grasped by the human mind. A suggestive deconstructionist analysis of the differences between twentieth-century historical writing and the writing of eighteenth-century clergy, with remarks on how such differences may have affected historiography, can be found in R. C. De Prospo, Theism in the Discourse ofJonathan Edwards (Cranbury, N.J., 1985). 7 A colleague in liberalism who, though Tory, was also important in the Boston area was the Reverend Ebenezer Gay. See Robert J. Wilson HI, The Benevolent Deity: Ebenezer Gay and the Rise of Rational Religion in New England, i6g6-i78j (Philadelphia, 1984). 8 See Chauncy, "Eminent Men"; Griffin, p. 94. 9 Akers, pp. 175—6. 10 Chauncy's letters to Price can be found in W. Bernard Peach and D. O. Thomas, eds., The Correspondence of Richard Price (Durham, N.C., 1983).

NOTES TO PP. 111-117

147

11 Akers, pp. 143, 177. 12 Ibid., p. 191. 13 Chauncy and Mayhew were coorganizers of the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge among the Indians of North America. 14 Griffin, pp. 131—2; Thomas Bradbury Chandler, An Appeal to the Public, in Behalf of the Church of England in America (New York, 1767); Chauncy, The Appeal to the Public Answered, in Behalf of the Non-Episcopal Churches in America (Boston, 1768). 15 Henry F. May, The Enlightenment in America (New York, 1976), p. 352. 16 Clifford Geertz, "Ideology As a Cultural System" in David E. Apter, ed. Ideology and Discontent (New York, 1964), pp. 47-76. Robert E. Shalhope has pointed out the usefulness of Geertz's ideas to those historians who are interested in developing fresh perspectives on interpretation of early American republicanism. See "Republicanism and Early American Historiography," William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd ser., 39 (1982): 334-56. 17 Two exceptions are Cushing Strout, The New Heavens and the New Earth: Political Religion in America (New York, 1974) and Nathan O. Hatch, The Sacred Cause of Liberty: Republican Thought and the Millennium in Revolutionary New England (New Haven, 1977). Hatch's introduction includes a perceptive analysis of the problems that historians have faced (or perhaps created) in attempting to understand the nature of the relationship between politics and religion in the eighteenth century. 18 Henry May's observations that "correct principles in religion were inseparably linked to correct principles of politics" among Federalists, and that the religion of the New England Federalists was "descended directly from the mid-eighteenth century Enlightenment views of Chauncy and Mayhew" are fully understandable only when we recognize the ground-breaking role played by Chauncy and Mayhew in formulating a comprehensive ideology rooted in the notion of balance. See May, p. 257. APPENDIX 1 Sometimes dismissals to other churches are recorded. However, the departures of persons from the church are not all dismissals. Sometimes names simply disappear from the records with no clues as to where the persons have gone, or even if they are still alive. Funeral records are incomplete. 2 Ezra Stiles, The Literary Diary of Ezra Stiles, cited in Records of First Church, p. xliii. 3 Akers believes that West Church, during the pastorate ofJonathan Mayhew, served about two hundred families, of which seventy-five were members (p. 58). 4 I assume that if the person was in Boston in 1771 and his name appeared in the church records in the 1750s and/or 1760s, then he was a member. The year 1765 is only a rough date. Obviously, by relying on the 1771 list I might have missed some persons who died or left Boston in the late 1760s. However, I have been able to find names of church members that do not appear on the 1771 list in the Boston city records. Sometimes I have found a

148

NOTES T O PP. 117-119

name listed as an officeholder, at other times in the 1760 fire records, at other times just slipped in at odd points in the city records. Clifford K. Shipton, Sibley's Harvard Graduates, vol. 8 (Boston, 1951), has been of some help. In determining church members' property ownership from the 1771 list, I have not included any information about a person if the name appeared more than once on the list. In a few cases, other information that I had about a person's finances has made possible a determination of which of the two or three names in Boston was the name I was looking for. In general, I have not attempted to ascertain which members were active in church services and/or church administration. Some persons w h o m I have identified as members may have been members in name only, and may have entered the building only for the baptism of a child (though the records of both churches list cases in which church discipline was enforced against the wayward). In short, it is possible, even likely, that some of the persons I have identified as church members did not participate in church life enough to be counted a significant influence upon the character of the congregation as a whole (and therefore upon Chauncy and Mayhew). 5 See "Tax and Valuation Lists - 1771," Massachusetts Archives, State House, Boston, 132 (1771), pp. 92-147. 6 See above, n. 4. 7 Boston Records Commission, A Volume of Records Relating to the Early History of Boston, vol. 29 of Reports of the Boston Records Commissioners (31 vols.,

Boston, 1900), p. 94. 8 Ibid., p. 97. He lost property valued at 27 pounds. 9 See William Pencak, "The Social Structure of Revolutionary Boston: Evidence from the Great Fire of 1760," Journal of Interdisciplinary History 2

(1972): 274; also Warden, "Inequality," pp. 606-7. See also Henretta, "Economic and Social Structure," p. 85, for a contrary view. There has been considerable debate about the reliability of the 1771 list. The debate has centered on the accuracy of its picture of the distribution of wealth. Nevertheless, Warden believes that though the list presents many problems, a careful use of it can provide a glimpse of wealth distribution. See "Inequality," p. 605. Warden frames his argument as a direct response to Henretta, Kulikoff, and Lockridge, who argue - to one degree or another - for increasing stratification in Boston in the mid eighteenth century. Warden believes that the assessments in the 1771 list ought to be considered underestimations by as much as 50 percent. He also believes that the distribution curve is skewed to make the large property holders appear richer than they really were (that is, he opposes Henretta's plotting of the curve). See esp. pp. 588 n. 6, 604-5. Gary Nash suggests that the biases in the 1771 list cancel each other out, and that in fact the list does provide an approximate understanding of the distribution of wealth in Boston. See Nash, p. 550 n. 10. Pencak's invocation of the Great Fire records as a means of discrediting the 1771 list is weak. See Pencak, p. 274. Though scholars are no longer content to use the 1771 list uncritically to discover something about the distribution of wealth in Boston, Henretta's figures are still fairly accurate for determin-

NOTES TO PP. 122-124

10

11 12

13 14 15

16

17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

149

ing property ownership for the upper 12 percent of the population. Drawing on Henretta's figures for the breakdown of Boston wealth into ownership percentages, we can specify the qualification for inclusion of a person in the upper 10 percent of property owners in Boston in 1771. According to Henretta's figures, any person with a total taxable wealth of 600 pounds or more belonged in the top 9.6 percent of all the taxpayers on the list. This figure includes both the assessed annual worth of real estate and the value of personal property. Not included in the totals for each person are the values of his servants for life, tons of vessels, feet of wharf, and other kinds of property recorded in the tax list. See Henretta, "Economic and Social Structure," p. 82, and the notes to Table 3, above. Pencak shows that the fire figures are much lower than probate inventories for 1759-61 (p. 272). Warden shows that probate value at the end of the 1750s was approximate to that of the early 1770s ("Inequality," pp. 591, 619). Shipton, 8:61. This source does not give currency exchange rate. The chi-square test of statistical significance, when applied to these figures, showed that the chances are 1 in 1,000 that 23 of 69 persons would be worth more than 400 pounds when in the city of Boston only 185 of 1,546 on the 1771 list were worth 400 pounds or more. For the West Church figures, the test showed a .05 level of significance, or a 5 in 100 chance. Akers, p. 53. Cook, esp. chaps. 1 and 2. Henretta, "Economic and Social Structure," p. 90. Henretta makes exaggerated claims about the "nearly perfect" correlation of wealth with level of officeholding. He projects correlations on limited data. For example, he attempts to match the office of fireward with high economic rank when, in fact, data from the 1771 list to support his argument are available for only six of seventeen firewards. Ibid. For the nine of eleven persons who were named as overseers of the poor in 1771 for whom data is available, eight rank in the top 7 percent of property owners. Two others, Roy all Tyler and Joseph Waldo, were also known to have been quite rich. See Robert F. Seybolt, The Town Officials of Colonial Boston 1634—1775 (Cambridge, Mass., 1939). Boston Records Commission, A Volume of Records, p. 100. Warden, "Inequality," p. 619; see also Nash. See A Report of the Record Commissioners of the City of Boston (Boston, 1887), 18:34. Seybolt; William H. Whitmore, The Massachusetts Civil List for the Colonial and Provincial Periods 1630—1774 (Albany, 1870). A Report of the Record Commissioners of the City of Boston, 18:2. Ibid. Whitmore, p. 64. Seybolt; Shipton, 8:546 and 8:43. Allen was a representative from Marblehead. Shipton believes that the school inspection committees were generally pres-

150

26 27 28 29 30 31 32

33

NOTES TO PP. 124-125 tigious groups. Town auditors had the task of auditing the accounts of the treasurer and the overseers of the poor, and the office was almost always filled by wealthy men. Cook, p. 43. See Seybolt. For Quincy see Shipton, 15:479-91; quote is from p. 486. For Gridley see Shipton, 7:518-30; quote is from p. 518. See Shipton, 8:220-30. Dowry is in pounds Mass. Henry R. Viets, A Brief History of Medicine in Massachusetts (Boston, 1930), pp. 75, 81. John Henry Cary, Joseph Warren: Physician, Politician, Patriot (Urbana, 111., 1961), p. 27. First Church: John Cunningham, Samuel Austin, Bartholomew Rand, John Leverett, Thomas Leverett, Joseph Green, John Salter, Joseph Russel, Richard Salter, William Scott, Caleb Blanchard, Jonathan Williams, William Blair Townsend, Benjamin Austin, Samuel Doggett, John Hunt III, William Gray, Jonathan Williams, Jr., Middlecott Cooke, William Torrey, Ruth Parrot, Edward Jackson, Nathaniel Thwing, Byfield Lyde, Nathaniel Balston, Jeremiah Green, John Wendell, Joseph Lee, Samuel Pemberton, Samuel Partridge, Josiah Quincy. West Church: Isaac Winslow, Job Prince, Joseph Scott, Meletiah Bourne, John Gill, Capt. Martin Gay, Joseph Henderson, Sam Alleyne Otis, Samuel Eliot, the widow Winslow, Thomas Walley, John Gore, Benjamin Kent, Capt. Isaac Philips, Lewis Gray, William Smith, Samuel Waldo, Thomas Flucker, Henderson Inches, Harrison Gray, Thomas Green, Jeremiah Gridley, Miles Whitworth.

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Index

Adams, John, 6, 81, n o Akers, Charles W., xiii, 21, 97-8, 12611.6 Alan, Joseph Henry, I26n.6

mons, 15; An Unbridled Tongue, 16; Validity of Presbyterian Ordination, i n

Clarke, Samuel, xi, 33, 34-5, 52 Colman, Benjamin, 35 Cook, Edward M., Jr., 81, 124 "country," political theory of, 3, 4 Counts, Martha L., 64

Bailyn, Bernard, 61, 74, 81, I26n.4, I4on. 123 balance, 19, 22, 25, 30, 40-1, 43, 51, 53, 55-6, 75, 77-8, 84, 85, 106, 107, 113 Baldwin, Alice, x, 63 benevolence, 82—4 Bergson, Henri, 7, 129^23 Bolingbroke, Henry St. John, 3, 61, 65, 7O-3, 74 Boston, Great Fire of 1760, 11 Boyle, Robert, xi, 75 Bradford, Alden, I26n.6, 142^25 Bradford, William, 25 Buel, Richard, Jr., 13 Burke, Kenneth, 41 Burnet, Thomas, xi Bushman, Richard L., 27, 37, 60 Butler, Jon, I28n.7

Davenport, James, 2, 18, 32 Davies, Samuel, 57, 108 Day, John, 86 De Prospo, R. C , I46n.6 dialectic, 19, 42, 45, 51, 54, 58, 75, 79, 107, 109 Dickinson, Jonathan, 29 drama, 51 Durkheim, Emile, I27n.i2, 144^104 earthquakes, 12, 13, 16-7 Edwards, Jonathan, 2, 27, 28, 32, 54-5, 56, n o Eliot, Andrew, 114 Enlightenment, xi, 2, 14

Chandler, Thomas Bradbury, i n 106, I45n. 102; Civil Magistrates, 64, 74;

First Church, ix, xii, 19, 96-7 Frelinghuysen, Theodore, 2 Frothingham, Ebenezer, 54

Enthusiasm Describ'd, 15; Five Dissertations, 23; Gijis oftheSpirit, 105; Marvellous Things, 16; Ministers Cautioned, 32; Mystery Hid, 23; Out-pouring of the Holy Ghost, 50; Seasonable Thoughts, 15, 31, 50; Trust in God, 16; Twelve Ser-

Gaustad, Edwin S., 32 Gay, Ebenezer, 36 Gay, Peter, 134^97 God, "governor of world," 16-17 Geertz, Clifford, 112

Chauncy, Charles: Appeal to the Public Answered, i n ; Benevolence of the Deity, 23,

159

16o

INDEX

Gouldner, Alvin W., I46n.5 Gray, Harrison, 20, 97, 13 in.2 Great Awakening, 2, 57, 60 Great Chain of Being, 74, 98-103, 105, 109 Griffin, Edward M., xiii, 23, I26n.6, 13m.18 Half-way Covenant, 26 Haller, William, 55-6 Hambricke-Stowe, Charles E., I32n.28 Haroutunian, Joseph, x, I26n.6 Harrington, James, 61, 65-7, 73 Hatch, Nathan, 127m 6 Heimert, Alan, xii, 57, I26n.5 Henretta, James, 122 hidden order, of divine plan, 12, 14, 17— 18, 108, 113

Hoadly, Benjamin, 70, 74 Hollis, Thomas, m

61; Private Judgement, 36; Sermons on the Following Subjects, 22-3, 92; Seven Sermons, 22, 51—2, i n ; Snare Broken, 62, 63, 88; Stiving to Enter In at the Strait Gate, 91; Two Sermons on the Nature, Extent and Perfection of Divine Goodness, 9, 78, 106 metaphor, 41, 51, 103, 106 Middlekauff, Robert, I32n.28 Miller, John C , I26n.5 Miller, Perry, xi, 24, 25, 35, 103 Milton, John, 61, 67-8, 70 Molasses Act, 95 Moles worth, Robert, 61, 69-70, 73 Moore, Frank, I26n.4 Morais, Herbert M., I26n.6 Morgan, Edmund, 103 Murrin, John M., I28n.7 mutual dependency (in ideas of Chauncy and Mayhew), 20, 24, 43, 46, 47, 48, 56, 58, 63, 64-5, 78

Independent Reflector, 59—60

intuition, 85 Jackson, Joseph, 1 Jarratt, Devereux, 86 Johnson, Mark, 20 Jones, James W., I26n.5 Kammen, Michael, 1 King George's War, 95 Kirby, John B., 73 Knappen, M. M., 25 Koch, G. Adolf, I27n.6 Kramnick, Isaac, 74 Lakoff, George, 20 Levin, David, I32n.28 Lippy, Charles H., xiii, I27n.6 Locke, John, xi, 3, 33, 34, 63, 65, 67, 77 Lovejoy, Arthur O., 99, 102 Maier, Pauline, I37n.io Main, Jackson Turner, 4—5, 87, 90, 94 Mather, Cotton, 26, 35 May, Henry, 112, I47n. 18 Mayhew, Experience, 35 Mayhew, Jonathan: Christian Sobriety, 31, 44; Unlimited Submission, 74, 80, n o ; Expected Dissolution, 12; Popish Idolatry,

Neville, Henry, 61, 66—7 Newton, Isaac, xi, 13, 74 Oliver, Peter, ix Paine, Robert Treat, 6 Parker, Samuel, xi Parsons, Jonathan, 29 Pascal, Blaise, 21, 30, 82 Pencak, William, I48n.9 Perkins, William, 24, 103 Pessen, Edward, 5 Pocock, J. G. A., 61, 66-7 Pole, J. R., I28n.i5 Pope, Robert G., I32n.28 Price, Richard, i n Quakers, 87, 93 Rauschenbusch, Walter, 144^74 Ray, John, xi Robbins, Caroline, 61 Robie, Thomas, xi Rossiter, Clinton, 86, 93, I27n.6 Savelle, Max, I26n.4 Seeker, Archbishop Thomas, i n

INDEX Seven Years War, 95 Sewall, Joseph, xii Sewall, Samuel, 86 Sewall, Stephen, 20 Shalhope, Robert E., I47n.i6 Shy, John, 4 Sibley's Harvard Graduates, 117

Sidney, Algernon, 61, 68, 70 Simpson, Alan, 25 Stamp Act, 95 Stiles, Ezra, 114 Stout, Harry S., I32n.28 Tennent, Gilbert, 2, 32, 55 Thornton, John W., I26n.4 Tillotson, Archbishop John, xi, 33-4 Trenchard, John (and Thomas Gordon), 3, 60, 61

Townsend, Rebecca, xi Turner, Victor, I27n.i2, I28n.3 Van Tyne, C , I26n.4 Warden, G. B., 94, 122-3 West Church, ix, xii, 19, 20, 96, 97-8 Whigs, 3, 60-1, 69, 72 Whitefield, George, 2, 29, 54, 56 Whitby, Daniel, xi Wigglesworth, Edward, xi, xii, 82 Wilson, Robert J., I46n.7 Winthrop, John, xi Wood, Gordon, 1 Woodward, John, xi Wright, Conrad, 45, 75, 112, I26n.5 Zenger, Peter, 60

161