Anthologies and studies of early American literature usually mention The Simple Cobler of Aggawam in America as the first comic book ever written in Massachusetts. But was it the first humorous book, as R. F. Dibble insisted,¹ or the first American satire? More attention seems to have been paid to satire. The trend may have been set by Moses Coit Tyler.² It is still going strong.³ The most persuasive exploitation of this vein is found in R. D. Amer’s essay.⁴ As the author points out, the study is based on Alvin Kernan’s The Cankered Muse and R. C. Elliott’s The Power of Satire. Arner’ s text is a remarkable analysis of the conventions of satire and a reappraisal of the persona and his functions. It stresses three major targets for satire: the danger of religious toleration, the excesses of women’s fashions, and the political, ecclesiastical, and civil strife in England. It shows how the basic metaphors function in the book, giving it a metaphoric structure. Excellent as it is, Amer’s essay does not, however, devote any attention to certain factors and thus overlooks other structures of the narrative. By focusing on marriage and birth, adultery and prostitution, William J. Scheik has recently drawn our attention to other problems, thus renewing our appraisal of the narrator.⁵ We cannot help seeing the close relationship between the narrator and the author. We cannot help noticing that all of Ward’s obsessions did not inevitably result in the voicing of emotions in the form of saeva indignatio. There are ripples of humor where the upsurge of emotion is curbed, arrested instead of splashing across the printed page in aggressive waves. The Simple Cobler is a book of several voices.

In his Commonplace Book Thomas Weld has the following entry about Nathaniel Ward:

This practical joke deserves some comment. It is characteristic of Nathaniel Ward’s reactions to frontier conditions and of his humor.

The old man repeatedly complained about the emptiness of New England purses. There was indeed a clash between this sad reality and the success which God-fearing and law-abiding Puritans expected. There is a conflict between ingrained ideology and the experience of the colony. But the contradiction is not a glaring evidence in this particular story. It is imbedded and masked by the humorous behavior, by the minister’s oblique objection to frontier poverty and its consequences. The tale reveals the migrant’s refusal to become a victim, to pity himself or his guests. It shows an attempt not to suffer, not to get angry, not to despair. The expression of the sensations and emotions is apparently suppressed. The drama of hunger is reduced to a joke. Danger vanishes. The imaginative solution invented by Ward has something to do with the protection and invulnerability of the ego. Humor as shown on this occasion is both shield and challenge, a triumph of narcissism and the pleasure principle. In Freudian terms it illustrates the economy of affect theory.⁷

Some of the above remarks apply to The Simple Cobler and help us see in a different light the existing relationship between ideology and humor and satire. The text is loaded with the powerful opinions of a conscious and conscientious Puritan. Although the narrator writes that "Not to tolerate things meerly indifferent to weak consciences, argues a conscience too strong,"⁸ the observation does not seem to apply to him. There is nothing that lies beyond the scope of his controlling ideas. He has very clear conceptions of both religion and monarchy as shown in the problems discussed in the book. And the semiologic analysis of dress betrays strong puritan bias. But the puritan discourse varies. Theodore de la Guard’s voice sometimes conveys very blunt, very bitter attacks. Verbal violence ends up in aggressive satire. The very powerful emotions of the satirist appear unveiled. At other places the economy of affect process seems to be at work. The narrator spares himself. His voice sings a different comic tune.

The title page and the address to the reader both introduce a strange cobbler, a cobbler of souls. The introductory paragraphs sound like a mock-epic, a burlesque of the regular sermon whereby a minister tries to wake up the conscience of the near-damned. The meaning of this opening remains uncertain until we reach the section where the narrator speaks about himself:

The cobbler can now be identified as a minister of the church of New England fighting both for the preservation of the best puritan doctrines in America and the restoration of order in Old World England. The words quoted above do not contain any satire aimed at the various religious sects. They are a humorous way of expressing one’s preferences as well as the political practice of the colony. They were written a few years after the antinomian crisis. This fact—when remembered—certainly adds something to our appreciation of the opening of the same paragraph:

Here the narrator does not give vent to his passion. Pride in the prevailing religious doctrines of the colony is curbed. Domestic difficulties are hidden, including all the religious problems which may have affected the narrator. Bitterness resulting from attacks against the New England way is carefully concealed. The smooth surface of humor serves as a protective shield, a shield against verbal aggression and violence. Humor eases the tensions. Behind the mask of Theodore de la Guard we cannot help noticing the face of Nathaniel Ward. The man needed to get rid of his obsessions. He was deeply involved in the political and religious history of the Bay Colony. He was aware of uncertainty, ill-success, danger in the colony and in the world. He worked for the welfare of the puritan community and suffered for it. What happened in the world personally concerned him. And precisely because he was so much involved, he could not simply write a pamphlet, a bitter satire upon the times. He needed the sort of protection as well as liberation which a comic discourse could provide. By masquerading as a cobbler of souls or adopting the garb of the herald for New England he became less vulnerable. Through repetitive images and recurrent use of verbal play he managed to free himself from obsessive visions of danger. Before being a satire upon the license of new opinions, the text is a burlesque reflection on order and disorder; hence, the opening paragraphs are

essentially non-satirical. Elsewhere direct statements of the narrator lead to verbal play which also focuses on order and disorder:

Language—punning in particular—is used to exorcise Evil, Satan. It is not a gratuitous activity. The clownish play with words is functional. It is as fundamental as the recurring historical examples of misrule: the invading wederdopers of Holland or the devil of Schlestadt.¹² These instances serve as so many fair warnings of danger. Theodore de la Guard sees the universe as a structure, as a "texture" which can be dislocated by man’s action. The conception of religion is mirrored in history and language. The texture of God’s Kingdom may be "unravelled." Man may "disgood" the ordinance and "unworld" all. Beyond punning and dislocation of words, verbal creation contributes to the establishment of humorous survival in a corrupted world.

After long variations on toleration, the sermonizing narrator concludes the first part with considerations on Puritan strategy. Quoting biblical verse and using biblical heroes, he advises good English Christians not to leave their country because no other place provides as good soil for planting the Gospel. Yet if necessity of conscience or condition obliges any to emigrate to the wilderness, he should not be discouraged:

Considering the political and religious situation both in England and in New England, the whole paragraph is an excellent piece of humor. The passage is fraught with Ward’s own experience of change in England and his disappointment with the Bay Colony when he finally removed there after being suspended by archbishop Laud. But the personal odyssey is concealed, and the emotion buried deep. Similar observations can be made about the next paragraph. It is full of hints about the situation which developed in the 1 640s and the questioning of the puritans. Both the Bible and puritan rule dictate that the good Christian should return to his country as

soon as the cause for leaving has ceased. Should Theodore de la Guard go back? The personal debate, the hesitations, the emotions of the narrator are masked. He mentions that "many" observe the rule and "diverse" make it an article of the American creed,’⁴ but he does not say what he personally feels or thinks. He buries himself into a collective "we." And "we" do not go over to fight the sacred battles of the Lord in England. Prayer is the reply to God’s call:

In giving us this image of the whole Bay Colony on their knees before God, Theodore de la Guard suppresses or rather interrupts the inner questioning. The shutting out is even made more complete by a complete and abrupt change of theme.

The next subject is women’s fashions. The sermonizing narrator says that he wants to make good his promise¹⁶ to discuss this theme. The satirical value of this passage has often been studied. And one is almost driven to such an interpretation by Theodore de la Guard, who quotes from Horace’s Satires¹⁷ at the beginning and concludes by saying that he wrote with all the indignation he could.¹⁸ Yet in the same sentence he seems somehow worried that he might have been misunderstood: some may have thought that he spoke "rather merrily than seriously." Although he puts the blame on the incapacity of people to read between the lines, the fear is there that the meaning was not clear. He also addresses "all Ladies and Gentlewomen" to explain that his aim was mere reformation and moderation of dress. Did something wrong occur in the satirical development? Was satire the only impulse? Obviously not. William J. Scheik has shown how sex provided a structure in the narrative. The widower’s story is partly based on sexual obsessions. It is not indifferent that the first mention of women’s fashions appears immediately after images of impotence and fertility.¹⁹ It is interesting to note that Theodore de la Guard complains about his twelve-year-long solitude and reveals his wish to marry a new wife. The old man’s desire is acute. But at the same time he is shocked by the new generation. True to his ideological rearing and to the emotions of the past, he declares:

But he pretends that he cannot stand French-like fashions. They represent excess and disorder. They are images of corruption and ridicule. He describes them merrily and brands them with the mark of prostitution. The "surcingled and debauched" women offend his sense of measure. They both obsess him and dull his desire. The narrator forgets his satirical intent. He humorously discusses his own problem and his colonial experience:

Theodore de la Guard amusingly comments on his perception of misrule and the effect on his imagination. Because such women disturb the peace and the well-ordered world of New England, the narrator’s desire to cross the ocean to find in England a replacement for his dead wife apparently vanishes. Another humorous note conceals the disappointment expressed in this frontier tale:

After considering men’s fashions and the proper length of hair, the narrator resumes his political and religious discourse. He reminds us of his disguise as cobbler of souls.²³ He declares his intention to help the best he can by setting on "the best peece of soule-leather" he has. This must be understood as a shift in the comic mood. Whereas in the first part Theodore de la Guard was raging against toleration because there is no compromise with Satan, because the structure of God’s universe cannot be tampered with, his emotions are of a different nature now. The sermonizing narrator will not, of course, accept a catholic King or a King who would be governed by a catholic Queen. This mood is revealed in the use of imagery dealing with the married life of the English monarchs. But the narrator is not constantly attacking the King. He also implores him to compromise with his people. His aim is to contribute to composition and cessation of the conflict. Satire is out of season here. A loving interest for the old country is looming. But general clowning hides personal feelings. The cobbler of souls once again uses the comic address and the parody of the sermon to convey his message:

If the situation has changed in England with the abolition of bishoprics—and this is the occasion of humorous remarks which can be understood by only those who are aware of Ward’s difficulties with the Anglican hierarchy²⁵—the question of the civil war remains the major menace. Satire is not the proper weapon to cope with it. A direct, personal, clownish appeal, and a humorous discourse on the plight of the old country are used as mediums to communicate Theodore de la Guard’s anxiety and efforts to reconcile the King and the nation. In successive paragraphs la Guard pleads, starting with "Trés Royall Sir,"²⁶ continuing with a "Much lamented sir,"²⁷ and ending with:

The "necessary over-boldnesse" of the last section of the above sentence betrays an aggressiveness which is ill-hidden by the humorous clowning. This conclusion to the address is no sooner finished than Theodore de la Guard begins a new lamentation and plea. The tone is once again personal, and the allusions are autobiographical. The narrator speaks about Prince Rupert, forgetting to mention that the prince was Commander-in-Chief of the Royalist forces. He prefers to remember the prince as infant, to evoke memories of the distant past, to indulge in wishful thinking in a light, humorous way:

The rest of the sermon is devoted to other elements of the English community. The narrator addresses the "courageous gentlemen," "honoured Country men," "brave Englishmen" to comfort them in their opposition to the King. The meaning of all these addresses becomes fully clear only when he concludes:

But if Theodore de la Guard tries to whip up the courage of his dear fellow-country men and to push them into fighting the battles of the Lord, he personally keeps out of the field. The final paragraph reminds us of the attitude and tone in the last two paragraphs of the first part.³¹ The narrator hedges behind the same "we," the same prayers sent up to the Throne of Grace. And this long passage beautifully ends the sermon. This time the American cobbler does not even wonder whether he should, whether they should, go over to help the Lord in the "sacred battailes." After spreading propaganda among the potential soldiers of the Lord of Hosts, he offers support in the form of more words—armies of prayers—and adopts the attitude of the sympathetic observer. The end discreetly but firmly plays on American difference. The discourse reveals the migrant’s refusal to be a victim. Emotions are finally veiled. The epic drama of Puritanism ends with a sort of joke. The imaginative close has something to do with the protection of the ego. American humor serves as a shield.

UNIVERSITY OF BORDEAUX III

 NOTES