New Milford. A memorial discourse, delivered in the Congregational church, New Milford, Conn., Sunday, July 9, 1876

In Short

This memorial discourse serves as a meticulous chronicle of the First Congregational Church of New Milford, Connecticut, delivered during the nation’s centennial in 1876. It synthesizes decades of town meeting minutes, ecclesiastical records, and personal histories to document the growth of a religious society deeply intertwined with the development of the town itself. By detailing the trials of early settlers, the shifts in denominational allegiances, and the evolution of social norms, the work preserves the memory of those who built a community from the wilderness.

The Story

The narrative begins in the early 18th century, when 111 proprietors from Milford acquired the tract of land known as Weantinogue. The story of the church is, for its first fifty years, synonymous with the story of the town government. Because no separate ecclesiastical society existed initially, all matters—from the funding of the pulpit and the building of the first modest meeting house to the oversight of public morality—were managed by the town meeting. The early years were defined by austere conditions; the first pastor, Daniel Boardman, received a salary paid largely in labor, grain, and livestock.

As the population grew, the church faced the challenges of expansion and internal change. The narrative tracks the slow emergence of other denominations, including the Quakers, Episcopalians, and later the Methodists and Baptists. While the Congregational Church remained the primary institution for decades, the text describes the gradual process of "setting off" new societies, such as those in Bridgewater and Brookfield, as geography and belief necessitated new paths. The author documents the church's transition through periods of significant tension, including the controversial pastorate of Stanley Griswold, who embraced Unitarian views and led the congregation to break away from its governing association, only to eventually reconcile with it under later leadership.

The arc of the story is marked by a steady, if sometimes painful, modernization. The author details the slow introduction of physical comforts—the move from beating drums to summon worshippers to the purchase of an organ and the installation of stoves. He paints a vivid portrait of the "Sabbath Day House," a vanished institution where congregants from distant farms would store wood and cider, warm their soup, and retreat between services. This period of building and community organization also saw the church emerge as a moral and educational pillar, serving as the town’s primary school board and the source of numerous leaders who would go on to shape national affairs.

The narrative reaches its resolution in the mid-19th century, transitioning from the era of austere, town-managed religious life to a more distinct, voluntary, and multifaceted institutional model. By the time of the 1876 address, the church has navigated the disruptions of the Revolutionary War and the Civil War, the latter of which saw 222 town residents serve in the Union ranks. The final chapters of the history catalog the church's long, slow process of developing organized charity and permanent endowments. The discourse concludes not with an ending, but with a plea for the present generation to maintain the "thrift and prudence" of their ancestors while stepping into the increased responsibilities of a new century, highlighting the town’s growth into a prosperous and orderly modern community.

How It Unfolds

The frontier foundations The narrative begins with the acquisition of the land in 1703 and the arrival of the first settlers, who immediately prioritized the establishment of religious worship. It details the early, inseparable bond between the town’s civil governance and the management of church affairs.

The era of the meeting house This section examines the physical development of the congregation, detailing the construction of successive church buildings on the Town Hill and the Village Green. It contrasts the early reliance on communal labor and simple wood stoves with the later, more affluent era of permanent endowments and formal choirs.

The emergence of diversity The middle chapters trace the appearance of other religious groups in New Milford, including Quakers and Methodists. The author provides a balanced account of how the established Congregational order interacted with these newcomers, noting instances of both legal friction and quiet, fraternal cooperation.

The leadership and legacy The final portion profiles the nine pastors who served the congregation, from the pioneering Daniel Boardman to the author himself. It lists the many members who entered the ministry or assumed roles in national government, framing their success as a testament to the church’s influence on the character of its people.

The People

Daniel Boardman, the first pastor, stands as the central figure of the early years, representing the sacrifice and communal reliance required to establish the church in the wilderness. His successor, Nathaniel Taylor, acts as the intellectual and social anchor of the mid-18th century, remembered for his long tenure and his role in educating the youth. Stanley Griswold serves as the primary catalyst for change and conflict; his shift toward Unitarianism forces the congregation to define its own identity apart from the regional church authorities.

Roger Sherman, perhaps the most famous member of the congregation, appears as the model of the "New England man," transitioning from a local shoemaker and town clerk to a signer of the Declaration of Independence. His life represents the broader theme of the book: that the humble, disciplined work performed in the church and town meeting prepared men for significant national duty. Finally, the various "mothers of the church," such as Polly Canfield and the centenarian Sally Northrop, are treated as living repositories of the congregation’s history, their longevity and dedication serving as a bridge between the founding era and the centennial present.

In Its Own Voice

“The town allowed 5s. 6d. a week for the minister’s board.”

This detail regarding the compensation of the Rev. Daniel Boardman captures the extreme poverty and reliance on barter common to the early 18th-century congregation.

“The Sabbath Day House was an institution that is unknown to the present generation.”

The author uses this observation to introduce a nostalgic look at the long-lost, practical traditions of 18th-century worshipers who needed a communal space to warm themselves between services.

“The town, as such, has always upheld the cause of morality and good order.”

This statement frames the congregation’s history as one of social discipline, where even the minutiae of behavior—such as the oversight of women in church—were treated as vital matters for collective concern.

What It's Really About

The central argument of the text is that institutional continuity is the bedrock of civilization. The author posits that the church, as the oldest and most consistent social entity in New Milford, acted as the primary engine for the town’s moral, educational, and political development. The book addresses the fundamental question of how a community maintains its identity through generations: through the preservation of records, the honoring of ancestral thrift, and the constant, if sometimes contentious, process of refining communal values. It is a work about the transmutation of religious conviction into civic responsibility, arguing that the rigorous, structured life of the early congregation was the direct ancestor of the stable, prosperous, and law-abiding town that existed in 1876.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in local history, genealogy, or the evolution of New England social life will find this book an invaluable, if narrow, document of a specific time and place. It reads like a long, formal speech—earnest, slightly didactic, and deeply respectful of the "fathers." It offers a window into the mind of a 19th-century pastor who viewed his town’s history as a sacred progression of improvement.

However, the reader must be prepared for the dense cataloging of names, dates, and financial records that dominates much of the text. The author’s period attitudes are evident in his summary of "foreign" Roman Catholic populations and his occasional, off-hand remarks about social deviants or "skedaddlers." There is no attempt at dramatic flair; the prose is functional and precise, suited to a commemorative discourse rather than a narrative history. You will read it not for its plot, but for the tangible sensation of time passing—the feeling of a community looking back at its own beginnings, counting its blessings, and trying to reconcile its rough-hewn, sometimes intolerant past with the idealized, orderly vision of its own future. For anyone who enjoys the quiet, detailed investigation of how a single town became what it is, this book provides a rewarding, foundational study.