The Colonial Period in New England
The Colonial Period in New England
The Colonial Period in New England
It is likely that no other colonists in the history of the world were as intellectual as
the Puritans. Between 1630 and 1690, there were as many university graduates in the
northeastern section of the United States, known as New England, as in the mother
country -- an astounding fact when one considers that most educated people of the
time were aristocrats who were unwilling to risk their lives in wilderness conditions.
The self-made and often self-educated Puritans were notable exceptions. They wanted
education to understand and execute God's will as they established their colonies
throughout New England.
The Puritan definition of good writing was that which brought home a full awareness
of the importance of worshipping God and of the spiritual dangers that the soul faced
on Earth. Puritan style varied enormously -- from complex metaphysical poetry to
homely journals and crushingly pedantic religious history. Whatever the style or
genre, certain themes remained constant. Life was seen as a test; failure led to eternal
damnation and hellfire, and success to heavenly bliss. This world was an arena of
constant battle between the forces of God and the forces of Satan, a formidable enemy
with many disguises. Many Puritans excitedly awaited the "millennium," when Jesus
would return to Earth, end human misery, and inaugurate 1,000 years of peace and
prosperity.
Scholars have long pointed out the link between Puritanism and capitalism: Both rest
on ambition, hard work, and an intense striving for success. Although individual
Puritans could not know, in strict theological terms, whether they were "saved" and
among the elect who would go to heaven, Puritans tended to feel that earthly success
was a sign of election. Wealth and status were sought not only for themselves, but as
welcome reassurances of spiritual health and promises of eternal life.
The first Puritan colonists who settled New England exemplified the seriousness of
Reformation Christianity. Known as the "Pilgrims," they were a small group of
believers who had migrated from England to Holland -- even then known for its
religious tolerance -- in 1608, during a time of persecutions.
Like most Puritans, they interpreted the Bible literally. They read and acted on the
text of the Second Book of Corinthians -- "Come out from among them and be ye
separate, saith the Lord." Despairing of purifying the Church of England from within,
"Separatists" formed underground "covenanted" churches that swore loyalty to the
group instead of the king. Seen as traitors to the king as well as heretics damned to
hell, they were often persecuted. Their separation took them ultimately to the New
World.
Being thus passed the vast ocean, and a sea of troubles...they had now no
friends to welcome them nor inns to entertain or refresh their weatherbeaten
bodies; no houses or much less towns to repair to, to seek for succor...savage
barbarians...were readier to fill their sides with arrows than otherwise. And for
the reason it was winter, and they that know the winters of that country know
them to be sharp and violent, and subject to cruel and fierce storms...all stand
upon them with a weatherbeaten face, and the whole country, full of woods
and thickets, represented a wild and savage hue.
Bradford also recorded the first document of colonial self-governance in the English
New World, the "Mayflower Compact," drawn up while the Pilgrims were still on
board ship. The compact was a harbinger of the Declaration of Independence to come
a century and a half later.
Modest, pious, and hard-working, Taylor never published his poetry, which was
discovered only in the 1930s. He would, no doubt, have seen his work's discovery as
divine providence; today's readers should be grateful to have his poems -- the finest
examples of 17th-century poetry in North America.
Taylor wrote a variety of verse: funeral elegies, lyrics, a medieval "debate," and a
500-page Metrical History of Christianity (mainly a history of martyrs). His best
works, according to modern critics, are the series of short Preparatory Meditations.
It is terrible poetry -- but everybody loved it. It fused the fascination of a horror story
with the authority of John Calvin. For more than two centuries, people memorized
this long, dreadful monument to religious terror; children proudly recited it, and
elders quoted it in everyday speech. It is not such a leap from the terrible punishments
of this poem to the ghastly self-inflicted wound of Nathaniel Hawthorne's guilty
Puritan minister, Arthur Dimmesdale, in The Scarlet Letter (1850) or Herman
Melville s crippled Captain Ahab, a New England Faust whose quest for forbidden
knowledge sinks the ship of American humanity in Moby-Dick (1851). (Moby-Dick
was the favorite novel of 20th-century American novelist William Faulkner, whose
profound and disturbing works suggest that the dark, metaphysical vision of
Protestant America has not yet been exhausted.)
Like most colonial literature, the poems of early New England imitate the form and
technique of the mother country, though the religious passion and frequent biblical
references, as well as the new setting, give New England writing a special identity.
Isolated New World writers also lived before the advent of rapid transportation and
electronic communications. As a result, colonial writers were imitating writing that
was already out of date in England. Thus, Edward Taylor, the best American poet of
his day, wrote metaphysical poetry after it had become unfashionable in England. At
times, as in Taylor's poetry, rich works of striking originality grew out of colonial
isolation.
Colonial writers often seemed ignorant of such great English authors as Ben Jonson.
Some colonial writers rejected English poets who belonged to a different sect as well,
thereby cutting themselves off from the finest lyric and dramatic models the English
language had produced. In addition, many colonials remained ignorant due to the lack
of books.
The great model of writing, belief, and conduct was the Bible, in an authorized
English translation that was already outdated when it came out. The age of the Bible,
so much older than the Roman church, made it authoritative to Puritan eyes.
New England Puritans clung to the tales of the Jews in the Old Testament, believing
that they, like the Jews, were persecuted for their faith, that they knew the one true
God, and that they were the chosen elect who would establish the New Jerusalem -- a
heaven on Earth. The Puritans were aware of the parallels between the ancient Jews of
the Old Testament and themselves. Moses led the Israelites out of captivity from
Egypt, parted the Red Sea through God's miraculous assistance so that his people
could escape, and received the divine law in the form of the Ten Commandments.
Like Moses, Puritan leaders felt they were rescuing their people from spiritual
corruption in England, passing miraculously over a wild sea with God's aid, and
fashioning new laws and new forms of government after God's wishes.
Colonial worlds tend to be archaic, and New England certainly was no exception.
New England Puritans were archaic by choice, conviction, and circumstance.
Samuel Sewall's Diary, which records the years 1674 to 1729, is lively and engaging.
Sewall fits the pattern of early New England writers we have seen in Bradford and
Taylor. Born in England, Sewall was brought to the colonies at an early age. He made
his home in the Boston area, where he graduated from Harvard, and made a career of
legal, administrative, and religious work.
Sewall was born late enough to see the change from the early, strict religious life of
the Puritans to the later, more worldly Yankee period of mercantile wealth in the New
England colonies; his Diary, which is often compared to Samuel Pepys's English
diary of the same period, inadvertently records the transition.
Like Pepys's diary, Sewall's is a minute record of his daily life, reflecting his interest
in living piously and well. He notes little purchases of sweets for a woman he was
courting, and their disagreements over whether he should affect aristocratic and
expensive ways such as wearing a wig and using a coach.
In the chapter on words about entertainment, he comments that "it is a strange truth
that a man shall generally find more free entertainment and refreshing among these
barbarians, than amongst thousands that call themselves Christians."
Williams's life is uniquely inspiring. On a visit to England during the bloody Civil
War there, he drew upon his survival in frigid New England to organize firewood
deliveries to the poor of London during the winter, after their supply of coal had been
cut off. He wrote lively defenses of religious toleration not only for different Christian
sects, but also for non-Christians. "It is the will and command of God, that...a
permission of the most Paganish, Jewish, Turkish, or Antichristian consciences and
worships, be granted to all men, in all nations...," he wrote in The Bloody Tenet of
Persecution for Cause of Conscience (1644). The intercultural experience of living
among gracious and humane Indians undoubtedly accounts for much of his wisdom.
Influence was two-way in the colonies. For example, John Eliot translated the Bible
into Narragansett. Some Indians converted to Christianity. Even today, the Native
American church is a mixture of Christianity and Indian traditional belief.
The spirit of toleration and religious freedom that gradually grew in the American
colonies was first established in Rhode Island and Pennsylvania, home of the
Quakers. The humane and tolerant Quakers, or "Friends," as they were known,
believed in the sacredness of the individual conscience as the fountainhead of social
order and morality. The fundamental Quaker belief in universal love and brotherhood
made them deeply democratic and opposed to dogmatic religious authority. Driven
out of strict Massachusetts, which feared their influence, they established a very
successful colony, Pennsylvania, under William Penn in 1681.
Woolman was also one of the first antislavery writers, publishing two essays, "Some
Considerations on the Keeping of Negroes," in 1754 and 1762. An ardent
humanitarian, he followed a path of "passive obedience" to authorities and laws he
found unjust, prefiguring Henry David Thoreau's celebrated essay, "Civil
Disobedience" (1849), by generations.
Edwards was molded by his extreme sense of duty and by the rigid Puritan
environment, which conspired to make him defend strict and gloomy Calvinism from
the forces of liberalism springing up around him. He is best known for his frightening,
powerful sermon, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" (1741):
[I]f God should let you go, you would immediately sink, and sinfully descend,
and plunge into the bottomless gulf....The God that holds you over the pit of
hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors
you, and is dreadfully provoked....he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else
but to be cast into the bottomless gulf.
Although many southerners were poor farmers or tradespeople living not much better
than slaves, the southern literate upper class was shaped by the classical, Old World
ideal of a noble landed gentry made possible by slavery. The institution released
wealthy southern whites from manual labor, afforded them leisure, and made the
dream of an aristocratic life in the American wilderness possible. The Puritan
emphasis on hard work, education and earnestness was rare -- instead we hear of such
pleasures as horseback riding and hunting. The church was the focus of a genteel
social life, not a forum for minute examinations of conscience.
William Byrd (1674-1744)
Southern culture naturally revolved around the ideal of the gentleman. A Renaissance
man equally good at managing a farm and reading classical Greek, he had the power
of a feudal lord.
William Byrd describes the gracious way of life at his plantation, Westover, in his
famous letter of 1726 to his English friend Charles Boyle, Earl of Orrery:
Like one of the patriarchs, I have my flock and herds, my bondmen and
bondwomen, and every sort of trade amongst my own servants, so that I live
in a kind of independence on everyone but Providence...
William Byrd epitomizes the spirit of the southern colonial gentry. The heir to 1,040
hectares, which he enlarged to 7,160 hectares, he was a merchant, trader, and planter.
His library of 3,600 books was the largest in the South. He was born with a lively
intelligence that his father augmented by sending him to excellent schools in England
and Holland. He visited the French Court, became a Fellow of the Royal Society, and
was friendly with some of the leading English writers of his day, particularly William
Wycherley and William Congreve. His London diaries are the opposite of those of the
New England Puritans, full of fancy dinners, glittering parties, and womanizing, with
little introspective soul-searching.
Byrd is best known today for his lively History of the Dividing Line, a diary of a 1729
trip of some weeks and 960 kilometers into the interior to survey the line dividing the
neighboring colonies of Virginia and North Carolina. The quick impressions that vast
wilderness, Indians, half-savage whites, wild beasts, and every sort of difficulty made
on this civilized gentleman form a uniquely American and very southern book. He
ridicules the first Virginia colonists, "about a hundred men, most of them reprobates
of good families," and jokes that at Jamestown, "like true Englishmen, they built a
church that cost no more than fifty pounds, and a tavern that cost five hundred."
Byrd's writings are fine examples of the keen interest Southerners took in the material
world: the land, Indians, plants, animals, and settlers.
Humorous satire -- a literary work in which human vice or folly is attacked through
irony, derision, or wit -- appears frequently in the colonial South. A group of irritated
settlers lampooned Georgia's philanthropic founder, General James Oglethorpe, in a
tract entitled A True and Historical Narrative of the Colony of Georgia (1741). They
pretended to praise him for keeping them so poor and overworked that they had to
develop "the valuable virtue of humility" and shun "the anxieties of any further
ambition."
The rowdy, satirical poem "The Sotweed Factor" satirizes the colony of Maryland,
where the author, an Englishman named Ebenezer Cook, had unsuccessfully tried his
hand as a tobacco merchant. Cook exposed the crude ways of the colony with high-
spirited humor, and accused the colonists of cheating him. The poem concludes with
an exaggerated curse: "May wrath divine then lay those regions waste / Where no
man's faithful nor a woman chaste."
In general, the colonial South may fairly be linked with a light, worldly, informative,
and realistic literary tradition. Imitative of English literary fashions, the southerners
attained imaginative heights in witty, precise observations of distinctive New World
conditions.