In the eighteenth century, an individual who approached his sixth decade was almost certain to think of himself as growing old. Those “who have attained to threescore,” asserted an aged Increase Mather, “are everywhere accounted as old men.” In early America, such longevity seemed great indeed. The median age was not far from sixteen; most people died before forty. Only about 5 percent of the population lived beyond sixty. Thus, persons who survived to this extreme age often assumed a peculiar and highly visible status. In colonial New England, religious and civil leaders lectured on the glories inherent in old age. Through speeches and sermons, they expatiated on the nature of senescence and its rightful place in society. For Puritans, at least, old age seemed more than merely the last segment of the life cycle; it became a tangible expression of God's benevolent order. “There is,” declared Reverend Samuel Willard:

In this divinely appointed universe, each individual had age-related roles and responsibilities. Children, servants, and parents were joined in a well-established hierarchy of law and tradition. The old were to assume the highest rank, their longevity a sign from Providence of chosen status.