Sunday, August 11, 2013

Bloggin' the Bookshelf: David Hall's "Worlds of Wonder, Days of Judgment: Popular Religious Beliefs in Early New England"

Editor's Note: This is a new series started with the aim of reviewing older works that are either directly linked with prelim reading lists or dissertation research. Of course, we invite any reader to contribute content about works valuable to their own research, regardless of period or topic.

Worlds of Wonder, Days of Judgement:
Popular Religious Beliefs in
Early New England
(1989)
In Worlds of Wonder, Days of Judgment, David D. Hall has reexamined the spiritual community of colonial New England, arguing for the existence of a popular religion that is both rooted in and supported by culture. Hall’s approach is novel, arguing that religion acted as “a mode of literacy” (18), and this prevailing connection between faith and literacy dominates this seminal work.

For Hall, the faith that emerges in New England cannot be simply explained as a product of cultural transmission. A variety of reasons are noted for colonial distinctiveness: the utility and persistence of folk belief, the spatial relationship between minister and congregation, the separate nature of church and state, the relative lack of appeal for ‘radical’ (i.e. Quaker, Baptist) faiths, the accommodative nature of magic and religion (paying homage to Keith Thomas’ 1971 seminal work), and the prominence of literacy. Popular culture represents something unique, facilitating an environment that was at once strictly demarcated, but flexible enough to include “countervailing practices and motifs” (245).

Hall’s discussion of literacy harkens back Perry Miller’s commentary on the state of the New England Mind. In Errand into the Wilderness (1956), Miller noted how Puritans stressed how the quest for secular knowledge - a quest that serves as the foundation in Sarah Rivett's recent The Science of the Soul in Colonial New England (2011) -  served to encourage the quest for grace. Knowledge, Miller wrote, “is a part of theology” (Errand, 77). While this link between religion and literacy may seem self-evident – the bibliocentric emphasis of Protestantism required a basic understanding of the printed word (indeed, to read the Bible was to have contact with the Holy Spirit) – nuances existed that truly made the two “inseparable” (38). Since formal primary education was nonexistent, learning in the household entailed the use of primers and catechisms that were made available from the New England book trade that saw a rapid rate of growth after the 1660s. More subtly, literacy allowed the laity a sense of agency, contributing to the “myth of freedom from the tyranny of priests” (52). Most importantly, literacy facilitated the creation of a distinct vernacular based upon references to popular print culture but especially to the Scriptures. This vernacular was both democratic and pervasive, allowing all members of the community to express their place within a world that not quite understood. In the words of Hall: it “left no social group untouched” (69).

It is interesting that Hall’s work appeared around the same time as Tessa Watt’s study on cheap print culture in Reformation England. In Cheap Print and Popular Piety, 1550-1640, Watt argues, “Cheap print in this period was just as likely to be an instrument of social cohesion, as more people were brought into the reading public, and as stories, images, and values permeated the multiple tiers of English society” (Cheap Print, 5). Hall’s assertion for “commonness” (11) draws a similar path, extending the discussion of popular religion to include more than just print culture, but the importance of ritual as well. The pages devoted to ritual are some the most noteworthy, especially the comments regarding witch-hunts. For Hall, witch–hunts such as the Salem trials unfolded along elaborate rituals of revenge, confession, and fasting. These connections are important, although the complexity of what occurred at Salem has lent itself to a variety of interpretations; most recently, Mary Beth Norton in In the Devil’s Snare (2002) has argued for the primacy of psychological trauma experienced during the Indian wars of the late seventeenth century when considering the events of 1692.

Which brings us to one of the glaring omissions of an otherwise substantial work: the relative lack of commentary regarding the Native Americans. King Philip’s War is mentioned rarely, as is the group as a whole. One would imagine that more attention would be paid to the Native Americans, who represented a cultural antithesis to the colonists. A comparative study is not necessary – Neal Sailsbury’s Manitou and Providence (1982) remains useful  - but perhaps more could be stated regarding Native American depictions in print culture, both locally and abroad. Similarly, did the vernacular that developed through educational practices get employed vis-à-vis Anglo-Amerindian relations? Regardless of the conspicuous absence of the Native Americans, Hall’s work remains an important contribution to our understanding of colonial New England.

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