Read The Mathers: Three Generations of Puritan Intellectuals, 1596-1728 for Free Online Page B

ship aground. With rocks looming through the spray, the captain next hoisted sail with the hope of escaping to the open sea. The wind destroyed the hope, tearing the sails from the masts and shredding them, "as if they had been but rotten rags."
As the sails flapped in tatters, the ship drove out of control toward a "mighty rock" standing out of the water. Ordinary men would have bid their lives farewell at this point, but the James was not carrying ordinary men. Mather and his fellow Puritans called on God for His mercy, and "he was pleased to have compassion and pity upon us." By God's ''overruling providence" the ship cleared the rock, and the wind and sea quieted long enough for the crew to rig the ship with fresh sails. The Lord also "sent us a fresh gale of wind" which allowed the James to navigate out of danger towards Cape Ann. Two days later, on August 17, 1635, the ship put into Boston.
When the Puritans on the James learned that the storm would not take their lives, Richard Mather reports, "O how our hearts did then relent and melt within us!" Richard Mather was more than grateful for his escapeeven at the worst moment he seems to have expected it. He had felt fear, of course, but when he remembered "the clearness of my calling from God this way," that is to New England, his fear abated somewhat. He knew that God would do with them what He wished. Christian resignation probably does not describe Mather's attitude; resignation implies a passivity, and Puritans were rarely passive. He welcomed God's actions, even if they entailed the loss of his life. But God did not claim his life; He simply demonstrated to the passengers of the James the ease with which He could make His claim successful and then in His mercy spare them for His other purposes. They had escaped the sea because God wished them to go to New England. This was comforting knowledge; and it strengthened Richard Mather's sense of purpose and his expectation that since Providence had steered him safely once, it would probably do so again.

 

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2
The Antichrist
Richard Mather arrived in Boston singing the praises of the Lord. The Lord had helped him and his companions escape their persecution in England. The Lord had conducted them safely over the sea without the loss of a man and without the suffering that usually dogged ocean voyages. The Lord had delivered them from a fearsome storm that boiled the sea and snapped anchor cables as if they were string. And so Richard Mather sang, "Praise the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, praise his holy name!" 1
Mather had not left England so full of confidence. The two years preceding his departure in 1635 had been marked by uncertainty about his ministry. Sometime between 1618, when he had accepted episcopal ordination at Toxteth Park, and 1633, when he was suspended, he had become convinced that Congregationalism was the true Church polity. His failure to conceal this persuasion had, in August 1633, brought visitors from the bishop who had suspended him, but in November he had been restored to his pulpit. He had returned to his church without promising to conform. The chances are that in 1633 Mather had simply requested action which would return him, and had not been re-

 

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quired to make any declaration of his principles. In the tangle of ecclesiastical politics and the unevenness and inconsistency of Anglican determination to smash dissenting ministers, his case had been favorably decided. The next year Mather had not been so fortunate. The Archbishop of York had dispatched visitors who again suspended him. When Mather's friends had appealed for a lifting of the suspension they were asked how long Mather had been a minister. The answer was "fifteen years." And how often had he worn the surplice? The response was that Mather had never worn it. The visitor's cynical comment had left little room for hope that Mather could return to his church: " ' What (said the Visitor, swearing as he