Today in Salem: The Reverend Cotton Mather stands in the door of his Boston church and stares, unspeaking, at the charred ruins just one block away. It was midnight last night when a blazing fire had escaped from the hearth in a nearby tavern, burned through its wooden walls, then rode on glowing embers to some twenty other buildings nearby. Men shouted through the smoke and passed water in leather buckets from hand to hand, until finally, mercifully, the fire was gone.
Rev Cotton Mather had despaired of the church, built of wood and only one street away from the fire. So he’d risen early this morning, forgoing his usual bread and cheese, and hurried to the church, prepared for destruction. But, except for a sharp smell that permeates the walls, the benches, and even the pulpit, it’s been spared.
What does it mean? Cotton pauses and says a silent prayer of gratitude for God’s protection. But still he wonders. Why would God allow a fire to burn so closely to the church, and yet not harm it? Is it a warning? What evil is creeping toward him and his flock?
Cotton looks to the sky, where ashes float like soft gray snow, swirling as the air is stirred. He can taste them, feel them in his throat, his eyes, his nostrils. He turns away and enters the church. The ashes will be gone by Sabbath day, he’s certain. But the acrid smell will stay.
WHO was Cotton Mather?
The Reverend Cotton Mather was 29 at the time of the trials, and one of the most conservative and influential Puritan ministers in colonial America. He’s remembered today for setting the extreme moral tone of Puritan New England, for his prolific writing (more than 450 books and pamphlets), and for his scholarship in science. He’s also known for his involvement in the events surrounding the Salem Witchcraft Trials.
Little is written about Cotton Mather’s severe stutter as a child and young man, and although he claimed to have been cured, it’s more likely that he learned to mask it. In public he was a careful and deliberative speaker. When not in the pulpit, he was quiet, which only added to his reputation of arrogance. Regardless, his speech defect might be one reason he was such a prolific writer. It could also explain his deep interest in science as an alternative career to the ministry.
Three years before the Trials, when he was 26, Mather published a book about several afflicted children who were bewitched by a local washerwoman. Mather himself had been deeply involved with the families, observing and recording the children’s activities, and played a role in the washerwoman’s ultimate hanging. Some say the book helped lay the groundwork for the Salem Witchcraft Trials.
Mather was highly influential in the ministry, offered conflicting and calamitous advice about using specters as evidence, and publicized (and even celebrated) the trials as they were happening. He witnessed at least 5 hangings, calling one accused woman a ”rampant hag,” and an accused minister a “puny man.“ Later he congratulated the Chief Justice for “extinguishing as wonderful a piece of devilism as has been seen in the world.”
Cotton Mather never expressed remorse or regret for his role in the witchcraft hysteria. In fact, for several years after the trials, he continued to defend them and seemed to hold out a hope for their return.
In a more scholarly vein, he went on to make legitimate contributions to the sciences of plant hybridization and disease inoculation, and became a fellow of the Royal Society of London. He promoted Newtonian science in America, and wrote extensively to unify the fields of science, philosophy, and religion.
Cotton Mather died 36 years after the trials. He was twice widowed, and only two of his 15 children outlived him. His grave can be found in the Copp’s Hill Burying Ground in Boston. Case files: Cotton Mather