Down the Rabbit Hole Number Two.
My first blog focussed on Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.
What I forgot to explain was the title. Many Americans have probably encountered the name of Jonathon Edwards, when learning about the Puritan settlement of New England. He was a fiery preacher, who was passionate about keeping his flocks in a state of Godliness by preaching the eternal horrors of hell.
One of his sermons, the most famous, was titled Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, which is why when you look up my book on Amazon, you find other books with the same title, all publications of the famous sermon.
Most Puritan preachers focussed their sermons on an interpretation of a quote from the Bible. This particular verse was ‘Their foot shall slide in due time…’
He speaks of the wickedness of men and how God sets up their punishment.
Psalm lxxiii. 18, 19. “Surely thou didst set them in slippery places; thou castedst them down into destruction: How are they brought into desolation as in a moment!”
They are now the objects of that very same anger and wrath of God, that is expressed in the torments of hell. And the reason why they do not go down to hell at each moment, is not because God, in whose power they are, is not then very angry with them; as he is with many miserable creatures now tormented in hell, who there feel and bear the fierceness of his wrath.
He takes aim at his own congregation.
Yea, God is a great deal more angry with great numbers that are now on earth: yea, doubtless, with many that are now in this congregation, who it may be are at ease, than he is with many of those who are now in the flames of hell.
I often wonder how people could listen to such words and stay sane!
The wrath of God burns against them, their damnation does not slumber; the pit is prepared, the fire is made ready, the furnace is now hot, ready to receive them; the flames do now rage and glow.
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: his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in his eyes, than the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours.
My understanding, after years of thinking, is that the people needed to be in a state of readiness to accept the grace of God if they were to escape Hell and enter Heaven. Although this was already predetermined, if people chose to live wickedly because it was predetermined, (and they couldn’t do anything to change this decision), they would not recognize that they had been saved and would therefore not be saved. This frightened people enough that the congregations of Puritans lived mostly Godly lives. Mostly!
Now I may be completely wrong about this and would love to be corrected or challenged if I have misunderstood the doctrines. But it does make sense to me.
On a lighter note, I read with delight Quabbin; the story of a small town with outlooks upon Puritan life, published in 1893, by Francis Underwood, the author of the novel The Coquette, which I discussed in my last blog. Published a century after my time settings, it is a memoir, looking back over the life of the small town. Life didn’t change much or very quickly in these years, especially in small rural towns!
This is the dedication:
To those, wherever they are, who have inherited the blood and shared the progress of the descendants of Pilgrims and Puritans, this book is respectfully dedicated. It is by men and women of Puritan lineage, developed by religious tolerance and universal education, that the institutions and the glory of New England are to be preserved…
It contains delightfully detailed descriptions of daily life, rituals, and eccentric characters.
Chapter titles include:
The first minister
Patient Emily
The quiltin’
Miss Wicks’ tea party
Sunday observances
Might have been a romance
How the poor were cared for – Aunt Keziah
In the first chapter Underwood describes the village.
Strangers "must have looked upon the little village with compassion; but for the natives it was cheerful ; they knew no other. In the small houses there was no luxury surely, but no lack of wholesome food or seasonable raiment. There were schools for six months in the year, and sermons twice every Sunday, — Sahbaday it was in the vernacular.
News brought by the county paper was seldom more than two weeks old; and authoritative expositions of public affairs were given at the tavern and the postoffice by persons who had actually seen New York, and who spoke of Boston with an air of familiarity.
I felt confident to write about the challenges to Puritan, Calvinist beliefs, especially predestination, after reading descriptions of those who professed to not believing, such as the model for Methusalah .
There was a grave and silent man who came now and then to the store and to mill, but never to meeting, and who never sought the least intimacy. One day the mystery of this taciturn being was revealed. Say not “revealed," but whispered with horror. He was a deist, had been a printer in Boston, and had even printed Bibles, but had been led astray by infidel books. The tone in which the word "deist " was uttered suggested what no epithet could have conveyed. The man was industrious, temperate, and honest ; but the name of deist was a convict's brand.
In Sinners, Matthew’s argument about God and the Puritan beliefs, to Hannah, was inspired by such descriptions as the following:
An old farmer, who called himself " a Dimmercrat and Univarsaller " once tried to tempt a villager into* an argument upon fore-ordination. The son of the latter was near by, and heard a few sentences like these : '' Eff God ain't the author of evil, an' ain't responsible for the damnation of his critters, that is, ef they air to be damned, I sh'd like to know why ! Ef things is fixed, either he fixed 'em, or he stood by an' let somebody else fix 'em. Ef they ain't fixed, then he don't know what's comin', an' ain't omnishent." When this point was reached, the father observed his boy listening, and discovered that there were ** chores" for him to do in the barn.
These arguments were regarded as not suitable for small ears! Indeed, they were regarded as a real threat to the dominance of the Puritan way of life.
***
Another memoir, Reminisces of a Nonagenarian by Sarah Anna Emery, was published in 1879.
Based on the memories of her mother, she gives us delightful and fascinating anecdotes of everyday life, celebrations, and especially fashion!
Thanksgiving was always an elaborate and festive affair.
Father and mother, grandsir, grandma'am and Uncle Bill went to meeting. Aunt Betsy and Aunt Judy remained at home, ostensibly to get the dinner, but they were so busy preparing for a party to which they had been invited for the evening that most of the cooking fell upon the younger, but more quiet and staid, Aunt Sukey.
What struck me about these descriptions was how modern the characters seem, and how much fun they had!
Rolicking Aunt Hannah, a girl of eight or nine, ran hither and thither, poking fun and helping everybody. Seizing the broom, she drew the freshly-strewn sand on the kitchen floor into a remarkable combination of zig-zags. Next she fell to basting the turkey, roasting on a spit, which rested on brackets on the tall iron andirons, flourishing the long-handled butter ladle in such a manner as to call forth the animadversions of Aunt Sukey, who declared that she would have the drippings, which fell into a pan beneath, " all over her clean hearth."
Large families meant that children could have cousins or other relatives who were not much older, or even younger than them.
Uncle Ben, a lad of twelve, brought wood and did other chores, meanwhile playing so many practical jokes on his gay elder sisters that they laughingly threatened to turn him out of the house. Roly-Poly Uncle Joe, only three years my senior, sat beside me on the form in the corner, where, with great glee, we watched the proceedings of our elders.
The wait for the elders to return from meeting seemed interminable to the children.
The merry forenoon glided away. The hands of the tall clock in the corner of the room pointed to twelve. Aunt Hannah set the table with the best napery and ware, the pickles and apple-sauce were brought, the cider drawn, and the chafing dish filled, ready to put on the table to keep the gravy hot. How long those expectant moments seemed ! Uncle Joe and I ensconced ourselves at the window, while Aunt Hannah zealously basted the turkey, with the wish that Parson Toppan would end that "everlasting sarmon."
Emery describes her youthful aunts, dressing for a party.
The brown silks were vastly becoming. They were made with full skirts, tight waists, low square necks, with tight sleeves reaching just below the elbow, finished by a ruflie, with an under one of lace. The neck was covered by a square white muslin handkerchief, doubled and tucked under the dress, immensely puffed out in front, long black net mitts covered the hands and arms, and when the jewelry was added, to my childish eyes my two girlish aunts presented the very acme of splendor.
And the young men who came to take their dates to the party.
…Amos Chase and Stephen Bartlett came to take their affianced to the party. These young gentlemen were arrayed in blue coats, with brass buttons, buff vests, satin breeches, silk stockings, silver knee and shoe buckles, their hair frizzled, powdered and cued.
An amusing character describes how many household items were purchased from pedlars, and how generous people were. This one sold not only thread for sewing, but printed sermons and poetry, on such topics as deaths, hangings and elections, which were popular reading material. He also kept the author, and avid reader as a child, well supplied with books.
Old Urin was quite a character. He would stump in, usually near dusk, with a bag and basket, and sinking into the nearest chair, declare himself ' ' e'en a' most dead, he was so lame ! " Then, without stopping to take breath, he would reel off, "Tree fell on me when I was a boy, killed my brother and me jest like him, here's books, pins, needles, black sewing silk ah1 colors, tapes, varses, almanacks and sarmons, thread, fine thread for cambric ruffles, here's varses on the pirate that was hung on Boston Common, solemn varses with a border of coffins atop, and Noble's sarmon preached at his wife's funeral, the ' lection sarmon when the guv'ner took the chair, Jack the Piper, Whittington's Cat, Pilgrim's Progress, Bank of Faith, The History of the Devil, and a great many other religious books." "We always kept the old man over night besides purchasing his wares. As I had an eager avidity for books, the peddler's advent was hailed with delight.
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much I enjoyed writing it! More to come.