ANNE BRADSTREET AND HER TIME

BY

HELEN CAMPBELL

AUTHOR OF "PRISONERS OF POVERTY, " "MRS. HERNDON'S INCOME, " "MISSMELINDA'S OPPORTUNITY, " ETC. 

A BOOK FOR "MISS ICY. "

INTRODUCTION. 

Grave doubts at times arise in the critical mind as to whetherAmerica has had any famous women. We are reproached with the fact, that in spite of some two hundred years of existence, we have, asyet, developed no genius in any degree comparable to that ofGeorge Eliot and George Sand in the present, or a dozen other asfamiliar names of the past. One at least of our prominent literaryjournals has formulated this reproach, and is even sceptical as tothe probability of any future of this nature for American women. 

What the conditions have been which hindered and hampered suchdevelopment, will find full place in the story of the one womanwho, in the midst of obstacles that might easily have daunted afar stouter soul, spoke such words as her limitations allowed. Anne Bradstreet, as a name standing alone, and represented only bya volume of moral reflections and the often stilted and unnaturalverse of the period, would perhaps, hardly claim a place in formalbiography. But Anne Bradstreet, the first woman whose work hascome down to us from that troublous Colonial time, and who, if notthe mother, is at least the grandmother of American literature, inthat her direct descendants number some of our most distinguishedmen of letters calls for some memorial more honorable than a pagein an Encyclopedia, or even an octavo edition of her works for thebenefit of stray antiquaries here and there. The direct ancestressof the Danas, of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, Wendell Phillips, theChannings, the Buckminsters and other lesser names, wouldnaturally inspire some interest if only in an inquiry as to justwhat inheritance she handed down, and the story of what she failedto do because of the time into which she was born, holds equalmeaning with that of what she did do. 

I am indebted to Mr. John Harvard Ellis's sumptuous edition ofAnne Bradstreet's works, published in 1867, and containing all herextant works, for all extracts of either prose or verse, as wellas for many of the facts incorporated in Mr. Ellis's carefulintroduction. Miss Bailey's "History of Andover, " has proved avaluable aid, but not more so than "The History of New England, "by Dr. John Gorham Palfrey, which affords in many points, the mostcareful and faithful picture on record of the time, personalfacts, unfortunately, being of the most meager nature. They havebeen sought for chiefly, however, in the old records themselves;musty with age and appallingly diffuse as well as numerous, butthe only source from which the true flavor of a forgotten time canbe extracted. Barren of personal detail as they too often are, thewriter of the present imperfect sketch has found Anne Bradstreet, in spite of all such deficiencies, a very real and vital person, and ends her task with the belief which it is hoped that thereader may share, that among the honorable women not a few whoselives are to-day our dearest possession, not one claims tenderermemory than she who died in New England two hundred years ago. 

NEW YORK, 1890. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. THE OLD HOME

CHAPTER II. UPHEAVALS

CHAPTER III. THE VOYAGE

CHAPTER IV. BEGINNINGS

CHAPTER V. OLD FRIENDS AND NEW

CHAPTER VI. A THEOLOGICAL TRAGEDY

CHAPTER VII. COLONIAL LITERARY DEVELOPMENT IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

CHAPTER VIII. SOME PHASES OF EARLY COLONIAL LIFE

CHAPTER IX. ANDOVER

CHAPTER X. VILLAGE LIFE IN 1650

CHAPTER XI A FIRST EDITION

CHAPTER XII. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS

CHAPTER XIII. CHANCES AND CHANGES

CHAPTER XIV. A LEGACY

CHAPTER XV. THE PURITAN REIGN OF TERROR

CHAPTER XVI. HOME AND ABROAD

CHAPTER XVII. THE END

ANNE BRADSTREET AND HER TIME. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE OLD HOME. 

The birthday of the baby, Anne Dudley, has no record; herbirthplace even is not absolutely certain, although there islittle doubt that it was at Northhampton in England, the home ofher father's family. She opened her eyes upon a time so filledwith crowding and conflicting interests that there need be nowonder that the individual was more or less ignored, and personalhistory lost in the general. To what branch of the Dudley familyshe belonged is also uncertain. Moore, in his "Lives of theGovernors of New Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay, " writes: "Thereis a tradition among the descendants of Governor Dudley in theeldest branch of the family, that he was descended from JohnDudley, Duke of Northumberland, who was beheaded 22 February, 1553. " Such belief was held for a time, but was afterwarddisallowed by Anne Bradstreet. In her "Elegy upon Sir PhilipSidney, " whose mother, the Lady Mary, was the eldest daughter ofthat Duke of Northumberland, she wrote:

 "Let, then, none disallow of these my straines, Which have the self-same blood yet in my veines. "

With the second edition of her poems, however, her faith hadchanged. This may have been due to a growing indifference toworldly distinctions, or, perhaps, to some knowledge of thedispute as to the ancestry of Robert Dudley, son of the Duke, whowas described by one side as a nobleman, by another as acarpenter, and by a third as "a noble timber merchant"; while awicked wit wrote that "he was the son of a duke, the brother of aking, the grandson of an esquire, and the great-grandson of acarpenter; that the carpenter was the only honest man in thefamily and the only one who died in his bed. " Whatever the causemay have been she renounced all claim to relationship, and thelines were made to read as they at present stand:

 "Then let none disallow of these my straines Whilst English blood yet runs within my veines. "

In any case, her father, Thomas Dudley, was of gentle blood andtraining, being the only son of Captain Roger Dudley, who waskilled in battle about the year 1577, when the child was hardlynine years old. Of his mother there is little record, as also ofthe sister from whom he was soon separated, though we know thatMrs. Dudley died shortly after her husband. Her maiden name isunknown; she was a relative of Sir Augustine Nicolls, of Paxton, Kent, one of His Majesty's Justices of his Court of Common Pleas, and keeper of the Great Seal to Prince Charles. 

The special friend who took charge of Thomas Dudley throughchildhood is said to have been "a Miss Purefoy, " and if so, shewas the sister of Judge Nicolls, who married a Leicestershiresquire, named William Purefoy. Five hundred pounds was left intrust for him, and delivered to him when he came of age; a sumequivalent to almost as many thousand to-day. At the school towhich he was sent he gained a fair knowledge of Latin, but he wassoon taken from it to become a page in the family of William LordCompton, afterward the Earl of Northumberland. 

His studies were continued, and in time he became a clerk of hiskinsman, "Judge Nicholls, " whose name appears in letters, and whowas a sergeant-at-law. Such legal knowledge as came to him herewas of service through all his later life, but law gave place toarms, the natural bias of most Englishmen at that date, and hebecame captain of eighty volunteers "raised in and aboutNorthhampton, and forming part of the force collected by order ofQueen Elizabeth to assist Henry IV. Of France, in the war againstPhilip II. Of Spain, " He was at the siege of Amiens in 1597, andreturned home when it ended, having, though barely of age, alreadygained distinction as a soldier, and acquired the courtesy ofmanner which distinguished him till later life, and the blandnessof which often blinded unfamiliar acquaintances to the penetrationand acumen, the honesty and courage that were the foundations ofhis character. As his belief changed, and the necessity for freespeech was laid upon him, he ceased to disguise his real feelingsand became even too out-spoken, the tendency strengthening year byyear, and doing much to diminish his popularity, though hisqualities were too sterling to allow any lessening of real honorand respect. But he was still the courtier, and untitled as hewas, prestige enough came with him to make his marriage to "agentlewoman whose Extract and Estate were Considerable, " a veryeasy matter, and though we know her only as Dorothy Dudley, norecord of her maiden name having been preserved, the love borneher by both husband and daughter is sufficient evidence of hercharacter and influence. 

Puritanism was not yet an established fact, but the seed had beensown which later became a tree so mighty that thousands gatheredunder its shadow. The reign of Elizabeth had brought not only powerbut peace to England, and national unity had no further peril ofexistence to dread. With peace, trade established itself on surefoundations and increased with every year. Wealth flowed into thecountry and the great merchants of London whose growth amazed andtroubled the royal Council, founded hospitals, "brought the NewRiver from its springs at Chadwell and Amwell to supply the citywith pure water, " and in many ways gave of their increase for thebenefit of all who found it less easy to earn. The smallerland-owners came into a social power never owned before, and"boasted as long a rent-roll and wielded as great an influence asmany of the older nobles. . . . In wealth as in political consequencethe merchants and country gentlemen who formed the bulk of the Houseof Commons, stood far above the mass of the peers. "

Character had changed no less than outward circumstances. "Thenation which gave itself to the rule of the Stewarts was anothernation from the panic-struck people that gave itself in the crashof social and religious order to the guidance of the Tudors. "English aims had passed beyond the bounds of England, and everyEnglish "squire who crossed the Channel to flesh his maiden swordat Ivry or Ostend, brought back to English soil, the daringtemper, the sense of inexhaustable resources, which had bourn himon through storm and battle field. " Such forces were not likely tosettle into a passive existence at home. Action had become anecessity. Thoughts had been stirred and awakened once for all. Consciously for the few, unconsciously for the many, "for ahundred years past, men had been living in the midst of aspiritual revolution. Not only the world about them, but the worldwithin every breast had been utterly transformed. The work of thesixteenth century had wrecked that tradition of religion, ofknowledge, of political and social order, which had been acceptedwithout question by the Middle Ages. The sudden freedom of themind from these older bonds brought a consciousness of power suchas had never been felt before; and the restless energy, theuniversal activity of the Renaissance were but outer expressionsof the pride, the joy, the amazing self-confidence, with which manwelcomed this revelation of the energies which had lain slumberingwithin him. "

This was the first stage, but another quickly and naturallyfollowed, and dread took the place of confidence. With thedeepening sense of human individuality, came a deepeningconviction of the boundless capacities of the human soul. Not as atheological dogma, but as a human fact man knew himself to be anall but infinite power, whether for good or for ill. The dramatowered into sublimity as it painted the strife of mighty forceswithin the breasts of Othello or Macbeth. Poets passed intometaphysicians as they strove to unravel the workings ofconscience within the soul. From that hour one dominant influencetold on human action; and all the various energies that had beencalled into life by the age that was passing away were seized, concentrated and steadied to a definite aim by the spirit ofreligion. Among the myriads upon whom this change had come, ThomasDudley was naturally numbered, and the ardent preaching of thewell-known Puritan ministers, Dodd and Hildersham, soon made him aNon-conformist and later an even more vigorous dissenter fromancient and established forms. As thinking England was of much thesame mind, his new belief did not for a time interfere with hisadvancement, for, some years after his marriage he became stewardof the estate of the Earl of Lincoln, and continued so for morethan ten years. Plunged in debt as the estate had been by theexcesses of Thomas, Earl of Lincoln, who left the property to hisson Theophilus, so encumbered that it was well nigh worthless, afew years of Dudley's skillful management freed it entirely, andhe became the dear and trusted friend of the entire family. Hisfirst child had been born in 1610, a son named Samuel, and in 1612came the daughter whose delicate infancy and childhood gave smallhint of the endurance shown in later years. Of much the samestation and training as Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson, Anne Dudley couldundoubtedly have written in the same words as that most delightfulof chroniclers: "By the time I was four years old I read Englishperfectly, and having a great memory I was carried to sermons. . . . When I was about seven years of age, I remember I had at one timeeight tutors in several qualities, languages, music, dancing, writing and needle work; but my genius was quite averse from allbut my book, and that I was so eager of, that my mother thinkingit prejudiced my health, would moderate me in it; yet this ratheranimated me than kept me back, and every moment I could steal frommy play I would employ in any book I could find when my own werelocked up from me. "

It is certain that the little Anne studied the Scriptures at sixor seven, with as painful solicitude as her elders, for she writesin the fragmentary diary which gives almost the only clue to herreal life:

"In my young years, about 6 or 7, as I take it, I began to makeconscience of my wayes, and what I knew was sinful, as lying, disobedience to Parents, etc. , I avoided it. If at any time I wasovertaken with the like evills, it was a great Trouble. I couldnot be at rest 'till by prayer I had confest it unto God. I wasalso troubled at the neglect of Private Duteys, tho' too oftentardy that way. I also found much comfort in reading theScriptures, especially those places I thought most concerned myCondition, and as I grew to have more understanding, so the moresolace I took in them. 

"In a long fitt of sickness which I had on my bed, I oftencommuned with my heart and made my supplication to the most High, who sett me free from that affliction. "

For a childhood which at six searches the Scriptures to findverses applicable to its condition, there cannot have been much ifany natural child life, and Mrs. Hutchinson's experience again wasprobably duplicated for the delicate and serious little Anne. "Play among other children I despised, and when I was forced toentertain such as came to visit me, I tried them with more graveinstruction than their mothers, and plucked all their babies topieces, and kept the children in such awe, that they were gladwhen I entertained myself with elder company, to whom I was veryacceptable, and living in the house with many persons that had agreat deal of wit, and very profitable serious discourses beingfrequent at my father's table and in my mother's drawing room, Iwas very attentive to all, and gathered up things that I wouldutter again, to great admiration of many that took my memory andimitation for wit. . . . I used to exhort my mother's words much, andto turn their idle discourses to good subjects. "

Given to exhortation as some of the time may have been, and drab-colored as most of the days certainly were, there were, brightpassages here and there, and one reminiscence was related in lateryears, in her poem "In Honour of Du Bartas, " the delight ofPuritan maids and mothers;

 "My muse unto a Child I may compare, Who sees the riches of some famous Fair, He feeds his eyes but understanding lacks, To comprehend the worth of all those knacks; The glittering plate and Jewels he admires, The Hats and Fans, the Plumes and Ladies' tires, And thousand times his mazed mind doth wish Some part, at least, of that brave wealth was his; But seeing empty wishes nought obtain, At night turns to his Mother's cot again, And tells her tales (his full heart over glad), Of all the glorious sights his eyes have had; But finds too soon his want of Eloquence, The silly prattler speaks no word of sense; But seeing utterance fail his great desires, Sits down in silence, deeply he admires. "

It is probably to one of the much exhorted maids that she owedthis glimpse of what was then a rallying ground for the jestersand merry Andrews, and possibly even a troop of strolling players, frowned upon by the Puritan as children of Satan, but stillsecretly enjoyed by the lighter minded among them. But the burdenof the time pressed more and more heavily. Freedom which hadseemed for a time to have taken firm root, and to promise a betterfuture for English thought and life, lessened day by day under thepressure of the Stuart dynasty, and every Nonconformist home wasthe center of anxieties that influenced every member of it fromthe baby to the grandsire, whose memory covered more astonishingchanges than any later day has known. 

The year preceding Anne Dudley's birth, had seen the beginning ofthe most powerful influence ever produced upon a people, madeready for it, by long distrust of such teaching as had beenallowed. With the translation of the Bible into common speech, andthe setting up of the first six copies in St. Pauls, itspopularity had grown from day to day. The small Geneva Bibles soonappeared and their substance had become part of the life of everyEnglish family within an incredibly short space of time. Not onlythought and action but speech itself were colored and shaped bythe new influence. We who hold to it as a well of Englishundefiled, and resent even the improvements of the new Version asan infringement on a precious possession, have small conception ofwhat it meant to a century which had had no prose literature andno poetry save the almost unknown verse of Chaucer. 

"Sunday after Sunday, day after day, the crowds that gatheredround the Bible in the nave of St. Pauls, or the family group thathung on its words in the devotional exercises at home, wereleavened with a new literature. Legend and annal, war song andpsalm, State-roll and biography, the mighty voices of prophets, the parables of Evangelists, stories of mission-journeys, ofperils by the sea and among the heathens, philosophic arguments, apocalyptic visions, all were flung broadcast over mindsunoccupied for the most part by any rival learning. The disclosureof the stores of Greek literature had wrought the revolution ofRenaissance. The disclosure of the older mass of Hebrewliterature, wrought the revolution of the Reformation. But the onerevolution was far deeper and wider in its effects than the other. No version could transfer to another tongue the peculiar charm oflanguage which gave their value to the authors of Greece and Rome. Classical letters, therefore, remained in the possession of thelearned, that is, of the few, and among these, with the exceptionof Colet and More, or of the pedants who revived a Pagan worshipin the gardens of the Florentine Academy, their direct influencewas purely intellectual. But the language of the Hebrew, the idiomof the Hellenistic Greek, lent themselves with a curious felicityto the purposes of translation. As a mere literary monument theEnglish version of the Bible remains the noblest example of theEnglish tongue, while its perpetual use made it from the instantof its appearance, the standard of our language. 

"One must dwell upon this fact persistently, before it will becomepossible to understand aright either the people or the literature ofthe time. With generations the influence has weakened, though thebest in English speech has its source in one fountain. But theEnglishman of that day wove his Bible into daily speech, as we weaveShakespeare or Milton or our favorite author of a later day. It wasneither affectation nor hypocrisy but an instinctive use that madethe curious mosaic of Biblical words and phrases which coloredEnglish talk two hundred years ago. The mass of picturesque allusionand illustration which we borrow from a thousand books, our fatherswere forced to borrow from one; and the borrowing was the easier andthe more natural, that the range of the Hebrew literature fitted itfor the expression of every phase of feeling. When Spencer pouredforth his warmest love-notes in the 'Epithalamion, ' he adopted thevery words of the Psalmist, as he bade the gates open for theentrance of his bride. When Cromwell saw the mists break over thehills of Dunbar, he hailed the sun-burst with the cry of David: 'LetGod arise, and let his enemies be scattered. Like as the smokevanisheth so shalt thou drive them away!' Even to common minds thisfamiliarity with grand poetic imagery in prophet and apocalypse, gave a loftiness and ardor of expression that with all its tendencyto exaggeration and bombast we may prefer to the slip-shodvulgarisms of today. "

Children caught the influence, and even baby talk was halfscriptural, so that there need be no surprise in finding AnneBradstreet's earliest recollections couched in the phrases ofpsalms learned by heart as soon as she could speak, and used, nodoubt, half unconsciously. Translate her sentences into thethought of to-day, and it is evident, that aside from the morbidconscientiousness produced by her training, that she was thevictim of moods arising from constant ill-health. Her constitutionseems to have been fragile in the extreme, and there is noquestion but that in her case as in that of many another childborn into the perplexed and troubled time, the constant anxiety ofboth parents, uncertain what a day might bring forth, impresseditself on the baby soul. There was English fortitude and courage, the endurance born of faith, and the higher evolution from Englishobstinacy, but there was for all of them, deep self-distrust andabasement; a sense of worthlessness that intensified with eachgeneration; and a perpetual, unhealthy questioning of everythought and motive. The progress was slow but certain, risingfirst among the more sensitive natures of women, whose lives heldtoo little action to drive away the mists, and whose motto wasalways, "look in and not out"--an utter reversal of the teachingof to-day. The children of that generation lost something that hadbeen the portion of their fathers. The Elizabethan age had beenone of immense animal life and vigor, and of intense capacity forenjoyment, and, deny it as one might, the effect lingered and hadgone far toward forming character. The early Nonconformist stillshared in many worldly pleasures, and had found no occasion tocondense thought upon points in Calvinism, or to think of himselfas a refugee from home and country. 

The cloud at first no bigger than a man's hand, was not dreaded, and life in Nonconformist homes went on with as much realenjoyment as if their ownership were never to be questioned. Serious and sad, as certain phases come to be, it is certain thathome life developed as suddenly as general intelligence. Thechanges in belief in turn affected character. "There was a suddenloss of the passion, the caprice, the subtle and tender play offeeling, the breath of sympathy, the quick pulse of delight, whichhad marked the age of Elizabeth; but on the other hand life gainedin moral grandeur, in a sense of the dignity of manhood, inorderliness and equable force. The larger geniality of the agethat had passed away was replaced by an intense tenderness withinthe narrower circle of the home. Home, as we now conceive it, wasthe creation of the Puritan. Wife and child rose from meredependants on the will of husband or father, as husband or fathersaw in them saints like himself, souls hallowed by the touch of adivine spirit and called with a divine calling like his own. Thesense of spiritual fellowship gave a new tenderness and refinementto the common family affections. "

The same influence had touched Thomas Dudley, and Dorothy Dudleycould have written of him as Lucy Hutchinson did of her husband:"He was as kind a father, as dear a brother, as good a master, asfaithful a friend as the world had. " In a time when, for theCavalier element, license still ruled and lawless passion wasglorified by every play writer, the Puritan demanded a differentstandard, and lived a life of manly purity in strange contrast tothe grossness of the time. Of Hutchinson and Dudley and thousandsof their contemporaries the same record held good: "Neither inyouth nor riper years could the most fair or enticing woman drawhim into unnecessary familiarity or dalliance. Wise and virtuouswomen he loved, and delighted in all pure and holy and unblameableconversation with them, but so as never to excite scandal ortemptation. Scurrilous discourse even among men he abhorred; andthough he sometimes took pleasure in wit and mirth, yet thatwhich was mixed with impurity he never could endure. "

Naturally with such standards life grew orderly and methodical. "Plain living and high thinking, " took the place of high livingand next to no thinking. Heavy drinking was renounced. Sobrietyand self-restraint ruled here as in every other act of life, andthe division between Cavalier and Nonconformist became daily moreand more marked. Persecution had not yet made the gloom andhardness which soon came to be inseparable from the word Puritan, and children were still allowed many enjoyments afterward totallyrenounced. Milton could write, even after his faith had settledand matured:

 "Haste then, nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful jollity, Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles, Nods and becks and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek And love to live in dimple sleek; Sports that wrinkled care derides And Laughter holding both his sides. "

Cromwell himself looked on at masques and revels, and Whitelock, aPuritan lawyer and his ambassador to Sweden, left behind him areputation for stately and magnificent entertaining, which hisadmirers could never harmonize with his persistent refusal toconform to the custom of drinking healths. In the report of thisembassy printed after Whitelock's return and republished someyears ago, occurs one of the best illustrations of Puritan sociallife at that period. "How could you pass over their very longwinter nights?" was one of the questions asked by the Protector atthe first audience after his return from The embassy. 

"I kept my people together, " was the reply, "and in action andrecreation, by having music in my house, and encouraging that andthe exercise of dancing, which held them by the eyes and ears, andgave them diversion without any offence. And I caused thegentlemen to have disputations in Latin, and declamations uponwords which I gave them. " Cromwell, "Those were very gooddiversions, and made your house a little academy. "

Whitelock, "I thought these recreations better than gaming formoney, or going forth to places of debauchery. "

Cromwell, "It was much better. "

In the Earl of Lincoln's household such amusements would becommon, and it was not till many years later, that a narrowingfaith made Anne write them down as "the follyes of youth. " Throughthat youth, she had part in every opportunity that the increasedrespect for women afforded. 

Many a Puritan matron shared her husband's studies, or followedher boys in their preparation for Oxford or Cambridge, and AnneBradstreet's poems and the few prose memorials she left, give fullevidence of an unusually broad training, her delicacy of healthmaking her more ready for absorption in study. Shakespeare andCervantes were still alive at her birth, and she was old enough, with the precocious development of the time, to have known thesense of loss and the general mourning at their death in 1616. Itis doubtful if the plays of the elder dramatists were allowed her, though there are hints in her poems of some knowledge ofShakespeare, but by the time girlhood was reached, the feelingagainst them had increased to a degree hardly comprehensible savein the light of contemporaneous history. The worst spirit of thetime was incorporated in the later plays, and the Puritans made nodiscrimination. The players in turn hated them, and Mrs. Hutchinson wrote: "Every stage and every table, and every puppet-play, belched forth profane scoffs upon them, the drunkards madethem their songs, and all fiddlers and mimics learned to abusethem, as finding it the most gameful way of fooling. "

If, however, the dramatists were forbidden, there were new andinexhaustible sources of inspiration and enjoyment, in the throngof new books, which the quiet of the reign of James allowed toappear in quick succession. Chapman's magnificent version of Homerwas delighting Cavalier and Puritan alike. "Plutarch's Lives, "were translated by Sir Thomas North and his book was "a householdbook for the whole of the seventeenth century. " Montaigne's Essayshad been "done into English" by John Florio, and to some of themat least Thomas Dudley was not likely to take exception. Poets andplayers had, however, come to be classed together and with somereason, both alike antagonizing the Puritan, but the poets of thereign of James were far more simple and natural in style thanthose of the age of Elizabeth, and thus, more likely to be read inPuritan families. Their numbers may be gauged by their presentclassification into "pastoral, satirical, theological, metaphysicaland humorous, " but only two of them were in entire sympathywith the Puritan spirit, or could be read without serious shockto belief and scruples. 

For the sake of her own future work, deeper drinking at thesesprings was essential, and in rejecting them, Anne Dudley lost theinfluence that must have moulded her own verse into much moreagreeable form for the reader of to-day, though it would probablyhave weakened her power in her own day. The poets she knew besthindered rather than helped development. Wither and Quarles, bothdeeply Calvinistic, the former becoming afterward one ofCromwell's major-generals, were popular not only then but longafterward, and Quarles' "Emblems", which appeared in 1635, foundtheir way to New England and helped to make sad thought still moredreary. Historians and antiquaries were at work. Sir WalterRaleigh's "History of the World, " must have given little Anne herfirst suggestion of life outside of England, while Buchanan, thetutor of King James, had made himself the historian and poet ofScotland. Bacon had just ended life and labor; Hooker'sEcclesiastical Polity was before the world, though not completeduntil 1632, and the dissensions of the time had given birth to a"mass of sermons, books of devotion, religious tracts andcontroversial pamphlets. " Sermons abounded, those of ArchbishopUsher, Andrews and Donne being specially valued, while "TheSaint's Cordial, " of Dr. Richard Sibbs, and the pious meditationsof Bishop Hall were on every Puritan bookshelf. But few strictlysectarian books appeared, "the censorship of the press, the rightof licensing books being almost entirely arrogated to himself bythe untiring enemy of the Nonconformists, Laud, Bishop of London, whose watchful eye few heretical writings could escape. . . . Manyof the most ultra pamphlets and tracts were the prints of foreignpresses secretly introduced into the country without the form of alegal entry at Stationers' Hall. "

The same activity which filled the religious world, was found alsoin scientific directions and Dr. Harvey's discovery of thecirculation of the blood, and Napier's introduction of logarithms, made a new era for both medicine and mathematics. 

That every pulse of this new tide was felt in the castle atLempingham is very evident, in all Anne Bradstreet's work. Thebusy steward found time for study and his daughter shared it, andwhen he revolted against the incessant round of cares and for atime resigned the position, the leisure gained was devoted to thesame ends. The family removed to Boston in Lincolnshire, and therean acquaintance was formed which had permanent influence on theminds of all. 

Here dwelt the Rev. John Cotton, vicar of the parish and alreadyobnoxious to the Bishops. 

No man among the Nonconformists had had more brilliant reputationbefore the necessity of differing came upon him, and his personalinfluence was something phenomenal. To the girl whose sensitive, eager mind reached out to every thing high and noble he must haveseemed of even rarer stuff than to-day we know him to have been. 

At thirteen he had entered Emmanuel College at Cambridge, andadding distinction to distinction had come at last to be dean ofthe college to which he belonged. His knowledge of Greek wasminute and thorough, and he conversed with ease in either Latin orHebrew. As a pulpit orator he was famous, and crowds thronged theancient church of St. Mary in Cambridge whenever he preached. Herehe gave them "the sort of sermons then in fashion--learned, ornate, pompous, bristling with epigrams, stuffed with conceits, all set off dramatically by posture, gesture and voice. "

The year in which Anne Dudley was born, had completed the changewhich had been slowly working in him and which Tyler describes inhis vivid pages on the theological writers of New England:

"His religious character had been deepening into Puritanism. Hehad come to view his own preaching as frivolous, Sadducean, pagan. " He decided to preach one sermon which would show whatchanges had come, and the announcement of his intention broughttogether the usual throng of under-graduates, fellows andprofessors who looked for the usual entertainment. Never was acrowd more deceived. "In preparing once more to preach to thiscongregation of worldly and witty folk, he had resolved to givethem a sermon intended to exhibit Jesus Christ rather than JohnCotton. This he did. His hearers were astonished, disgusted. Not amurmur of applause greeted the several stages of his discourse asbefore. They pulled their shovel caps down over their faces, folded their arms, and sat it out sullenly, amazed that thepromising John Cotton had turned lunatic or Puritan. "

Nearly twenty years passed before his energies were transferred toNew England, but the ending of his university career by no meanshampered his work elsewhere. As vicar of St. Botolphs at Bostonhis influence deepened with every year, and he grew steadily inknowledge about the Bible, and in the science of God and man asseen through the dim goggles of John Calvin. 

His power as a preacher was something tremendous, but he remainedundisturbed until the reign of James had ended and the "fatal eyeof Bishop Laud" fell upon him. "It was in 1633 that Laud becameprimate of England; which meant, among other things, that nowherewithin the rim of that imperial island was there to be peace orsafety any longer for John Cotton. Some of his friends in highstation tried to use persuasive words with the archbishop on hisbehalf, but the archbishop brushed aside their words with aninsupportable scorn. The Earl of Dorset sent a message to Cotton, that if he had only been guilty of drunkenness or adultery, or anysuch minor ministerial offence, his pardon could have been had;but since his crime was Puritanism, he must flee for his life. So, for his life he fled, dodging his pursuers; and finally slippingout of England, after innumerable perils, like a hunted felon;landing in Boston in September, 1633. "

Long before this crisis had come, Thomas Dudley had been recalledby the Earl of Lincoln, who found it impossible to dispense withhis services, and the busy life began again. Whether Anne missedthe constant excitement the strenuous spiritual life enforced onall who made part of John Cotton's congregation, there is norecord, but one may infer from a passage in her diary that areaction had set in, and that youth asserted itself. 

"But as I grew up to bee about fourteen or fifteen I found myheart more carnall and sitting loose from God, vanity and thefollys of youth take hold of me. 

"About sixteen, the Lord layd his hand sore upon me and smott meewith the small-pox. When I was in my affliction, I besought theLord, and confessed my Pride and Vanity and he was entreated ofme, and again restored me. But I rendered not to him according toye benefit received. "

Here is the only hint as to personal appearance. "Pride andVanity, " are more or less associated with a fair countenance, andthough no record gives slightest detail as to form or feature, there is every reason to suppose that the event, very near athand, which altered every prospect in life, was influenced indegree, at least, by considerations slighted in later years, buthaving full weight with both. That Thomas Dudley was a "verypersonable man, " we know, and there are hints that his daughterresembled him, though it was against the spirit of the time torecord mere accidents of coloring or shape. But Anne's futurehusband was a strikingly handsome man, not likely to ignore suchadvantages in the wife he chose, and we may think of her asslender and dark, with heavy hair and the clear, thoughtful eyes, which may be seen in the potrait of Paul Dudley to-day. There werefew of what we consider the typical Englishmen among these Puritansoldiers and gentry. Then, as now, the reformer and liberal wasnot likely to be of the warm, headlong Saxon type, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and open to every suggestion of pleasure lovingtemperament. It was the dark-haired men of the few districts whomade up Cromwell's regiment of Ironsides, and who from what Galtoncalls, "their atrabilious and sour temperament, " were likely tobecome extremists, and such Puritan portraits as remain to us, have most of them these characteristics. The English type of facealtered steadily for many generations, and the Englishmen of theeighteenth century had little kinship with the race reproduced inHolbein's portraits, which show usually, "high cheek-bones, longupper lips, thin eyebrows, and lank, dark hair. It would beimpossible . . . For the majority of modern Englishmen so to dressthemselves and clip and arrange their hair, as to look like themajority of these portraits. "

The type was perpetuated in New England, where for a hundredyears, there was not the slightest admixture of foreign blood, increased delicacy with each generation setting it farther andfarther apart from the always grosser and coarser type in OldEngland. Puritan abstinence had much to do with this, though evenfor them, heavy feeding, as compared with any modern standard wasthe rule, its results being found in the diaries of what theyrecorded and believed to be spiritual conflicts. Then, as now, dyspepsia often posed as a delicately susceptible temperament, andthe "pasty" of venison or game, fulfilled the same office as thepie into which it degenerated, and which is one of the most firmlyestablished of American institutions. Then, as occasionally evento day, indigestion counted as "a hiding of the Lord's face, " anda bilious attack as "the hand of the Lord laid heavily on one forreproof and correction. " Such "reproof and correction" would oftenfollow if the breakfasts of the Earl of Lincoln and his householdwere of the same order as those of the Earl of Northumberland, inwhose house "the family rose at six and took breakfast at seven. My Lord and Lady sat down to a repast of two pieces of saltedfish, and half a dozen of red herrings, with four fresh ones, or adish of sprats and a quart of beer and the same measure of wine . . . At other seasons, half a chine of mutton or of boiled beef, gracedthe board. Capons at two-pence apiece and plovers (at Christmas), were deemed too good for any digestion that was not carried on ina noble stomach. "

With the dropping of fasts and meager days, fish was seldom used, and the Sunday morning breakfast of Queen Elizabeth and herretinue in one of her "progresses" through the country, for whichthree oxen and one hundred and forty geese were furnished, becamethe standard, which did not alter for many generations. A dietmore utterly unsuited to the child who passed from one fit ofillness to another, could hardly be imagined, and the gloomdiscoverable in portions of her work was as certainly dyspepsia asshe imagined it to be "the motion and power of ye Adversary. "Winthrop had encountered the same difficulty and with his usualinsight and common sense, wrote in his private dairy fifteen yearsbefore he left England, "Sep: 8, 1612. Ffinding that the varietyof meates drawes me on to eate more than standeth with my healtheI have resolved not to eat of more than two dishes at any onemeale, whither fish, fleshe, fowle or fruite or whitt-meats, etc;whither at home or abroade; the lord give me care and abilitie toperform it. " Evidently the flesh rebelled, for later he writes:"Idlenesse and gluttonie are the two maine pillars of the fleshhis kingdome, " but he conquered finally, both he and SimonBradstreet being singularly abstinent. 

Her first sixteen years of life were, for Anne Dudley, filled withthe intensest mental and spiritual activity--hampered and alwaysin leading strings, but even so, an incredible advance on anythingthat had been the portion of women for generations. Then came, forthe young girl, a change not wholly unexpected, yet destined toalter every plan, and uproot every early association. But to thememories of that loved early life she held with an Englishtenacity, not altered by transplanting, that is seen to-day incountless New Englanders, whose English blood is of as pure astrain as any to be found in the old home across the sea. 

CHAPTER II. 

UPHEAVALS. 

Though the long engagement which Mr. Ruskin demands as a necessityin lessening some of the present complications of the marriagequestion may not have been the fortune of Simon and AnneBradstreet, it is certain that few couples have ever had betteropportunity for real knowledge of one another's peculiarities andhabits of thought. Circumstances placed them under the same rooffor years before marriage, and it would have been impossible topreserve any illusions, while every weakness as well as everyvirtue had fullest opportunity for disclosure. There is no hint ofother suitors, nor detail of the wooing, but the portrait ofGovernor Bradstreet, still to be seen in the Senate Chamber of theMassachusetts State House, shows a face that even in middle life, the time at which the portrait was painted, held an ardor, that attwenty-five must have made him irresistible. It is the head ofCavalier rather than Roundhead--the full though delicately curvedlips and every line in the noble face showing an eager, passionate, pleasure-loving temperament. But the broad, benignantforehead, the clear, dark eyes, the firm, well-cut nose, holdstrength as well as sweetness, and prepare one for the reputationwhich the old Colonial records give him. The high breeding, theatmosphere of the whole figure, comes from a marvellously well-balanced nature, as well as from birth and training. There is asense of the keenest life and vigor, both mental and physical, anddespite the Puritan garb, does not hide the man of whom his wifemight have written with Mrs. Hutchinson: "To sum up, therefore, all that can be said of his outward frame and disposition, we musttruly conclude that it was a very handsome and well-furnishedlodging prepared for the reception of that prince who, in theadministration of all excellent virtues, reigned there a while, till he was called back to the palace of the universal emperor. "

Simon Bradstreet's father, "born of a wealthy family in Suffolk, was one of the first fellows of Emanuel College, and highlyesteemed by persons distinguished for learning. " In 1603 he wasminister at Horbling in Lincolnshire, but was never anything but anonconformist to the Church of England. Here in 1603 SimonBradstreet was born, and until fourteen years old was educated inthe grammar school of that place, till the death of his fathermade some change necessary. John Cotton was the mutual friend ofboth Dudley and the elder Bradstreet, and Dudley's interest in theson may have arisen from this fact. However this may be, he wastaken at fifteen into the Earl of Lincoln's household, and trainedto the duties of a steward by Dudley himself. Anne being then achild of nine years old, and probably looking up to him with thedevotion that was shared by her older brother, then eleven andalways the friend and ally of the future governor. 

His capacity was so marked that Dr. Preston, another family friendand a noted Nonconformist, interested himself in his furthereducation, and succeeded in entering him at Emanuel College, Cambridge, in the position of governor to the young Lord Rich, sonof the Earl of Warwick. For some reason the young nobleman failedto come to college and Bradstreet's time was devoted to a brotherof the Earl of Lincoln, who evidently shared the love of idlenessand dissipation that had marked his grandfather's career. It wasall pleasant and all eminently unprofitable, Bradstreet wrote inlater years, but he accomplished sufficient study to secure hisbachelor's degree in 1620. Four years later, while holding theposition of steward to the Earl of Lincoln, given him by Dudley onthe temporary removal to Boston, that of Master of Arts wasbestowed upon him, making it plain that his love of study hadcontinued. With the recall of Dudley, he became steward to thecountess of Warwick, which position he held at the time of hismarriage in 1628. 

It was in this year that Anne, just before her marriage recorded, when the affliction had passed: "About 16, the Lord layde his handsore upon me and smott me with the small-pox. " It is curious thatthe woman whose life in many points most resembles her own--Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson--should have had precisely the same experience, writing of herself in the "Memoirs of Colonel Hutchinson": "Thatday that the friends on both sides met to conclude the marriage, she fell sick of the small-pox, which was in many ways a greattrial upon him. First, her life was in almost desperate hazard, and then the disease, for the present, made her the most deformedperson that could be seen, for a great while after she recovered;yet he was nothing troubled at it, but married her as soon as shewas able to quit the chamber, when the priest and all that saw herwere affrighted to look on her; but God recompensed his justiceand constancy by restoring her, though she was longer thanordinary before she recovered to be as well as before. "

Whether disease or treatment held the greater terror, it would behard to say. Modern medical science has devised many alleviations, and often restores a patient without spot or blemish. But to havelived at all in that day evidenced extraordinary vitality. Cleanliness was unknown, water being looked upon as deadly poisonwhether taken internally or applied externally. Covered withblankets, every window tightly sealed, and the moaning cry forwater answered by a little hot ale or tincture of bitter herbs, nature often gave up the useless struggle and released thetortured and delirious wretch. The means of cure left theconstitution irretrievably weakened if not hopelessly ruined, andthe approach of the disease was looked upon with affright andregarded usually as a special visitation of the wrath of God. 

That Anne Dudley so viewed it is evident from the passage in herdiary, already quoted; that the Lord "smott" her, was unquestioned, and she cast about in her girlish mind for the shadow of thesin that had brought such judgment, making solemn resolutions, not only against any further indulgence in "Pride and Vanity, "but all other offences, deciding that self-abnegation was theonly course, and possibly even beginning her convalescencewith a feeling that love itself should be put aside, and all herheart be "sett upon God. " But Simon Bradstreet waited, likeColonel Hutchinson, only till "she was fit to leave her chamber, "and whether "affrighted" or not, the marriage was consummatedearly in 1628. 

Of heavier, stouter frame than Colonel Hutchinson, and of a farmore vigorous constitution, the two men had much in common. Theforces that moulded and influenced the one, were equally potentwith the other. The best that the time had to give entered intoboth, and though Hutchinson's name and life are better known, itis rather because of the beauty and power with which his story wastold, by a wife who worshipped him, than because of actuallygreater desert. But the first rush of free thought ennobled manymen who in the old chains would have lived lives with nothing inthem worth noting, and names full of meaning are on every page ofthe story of the time. 

We have seen how the whole ideal of daily life had altered, as thePuritan element gained ground, and the influence affected thethought and life--even the speech of their opponents. A writer onEnglish literature remarks: "In one sense, the reign of James isthe most religious part of our history; for religion was thenfashionable. The forms of state, the king's speeches, the debatesin parliament and the current literature, were filled withquotations from Scripture and quaint allusions to sacred things. "

Even the soldier studied divinity, and Colonel Hutchinson, afterhis "fourteen months various exercise of his mind, in the pursuitof his love, being now at rest in the enjoyment of his wife, "thought it the most natural thing in the world to make "anentrance upon the study of school divinity, wherein his father wasthe most eminent scholar of any gentleman in England and had amost choice library. . . . Having therefore gotten into the housewith him an excellent scholar in that kind of learning, he for twoyears made it the whole employment of his time. "

Much of such learning Simon Bradstreet had taken in unconsciouslyin the constant discussions about his father's table, as well asin the university alive to every slightest change in doctrine, where freer but fully as interested talk went on. Puritanism hadas yet acquired little of the bitterness and rigor born ofpersecution, but meant simply emancipated thought, seekingsomething better than it had known, but still claiming all thegood the world held for it. Milton is the ideal Puritan of thetime, and something of the influences that surrounded his youthwere in the home of every well-born Puritan. Even much fartherdown in the social scale, a portrait remains of a London housemother, which may stand as that of many, whose sons and daughterspassed over at last to the new world, hopeless of any quiet orpeace in the old. It is a turner in Eastcheap, NehemiahWallington, who writes of his mother: "She was very loving andobedient to her parents, loving and kind to her husband, verytender-hearted to her children, loving all that were godly, muchmisliking the wicked and profane. She was a pattern of sobrietyunto many, very seldom was seen abroad except at church; whenothers recreated themselves at holidays and other times, she wouldtake her needle-work and say--'here is my recreation'. . . . God hadgiven her a very pregnant wit and an excellent memory. She wasvery ripe and perfect in all stories of the Bible, likewise in allthe stories of the Martyrs, and could readily turn to them; shewas also perfect and well seen in the English Chronicles, and inthe descents of the Kings of England. She lived in holy wedlockwith her husband twenty years, wanting but four days. "

If the influence of the new thought was so potent with a class whoin the Tudor days had made up the London mob, and whose signature, on the rare occasions when anybody wanted it, had been a mark, themiddle class, including professional men, felt it infinitely more. In the early training with many, as with Milton's father, musicwas a passion; there was nothing illiberal or narrow. In Milton'scase he writes: "My father destined me while yet a little boy tothe study of humane letters; which I seized with such eagernessthat from the twelth year of my age I scarcely ever went from mylessons to my bed before midnight. " "To the Greek, Latin andHebrew learned at school the scrivener advised him to add Italianand French. Nor were English letters neglected. Spencer gave theearliest turn to the boy's poetic genius. In spite of the warbetween playwright and precisian, a Puritan youth could still inMilton's days avow his love of the stage, 'if Jonson's learnedsock be on, or sweetest Shakspeare Fancy's child, warble hisnative wood-notes wild' and gather from the 'masques and antiquepageantry, ' of the court revels, hints for his own 'Comus' and'Arcades'. "

Simon Bradstreet's year at Cambridge probably held much the sameexperience, and if a narrowing faith in time taught him to writeit down as "all unprofitable, " there is no doubt that it helped tobroaden his nature and establish the Catholic-mindedness which inlater years, in spite of every influence against it, was one ofhis distinguishing characteristics. In the meantime he was adelightful companion. Cut off by his principles from much thatpassed as enjoyment, hating the unbridled licentiousness, the"ornate beastliness, " of the Stuart reign, he like others of thesame faith took refuge in intellectual pleasures. Like ColonelHutchinson--and this portrait, contrary in all points to thepreconceived idea, is a typical one--he "could dance admirablywell, but neither in youth nor riper years made any practice ofit; he had skill in fencing such as became a gentleman; he hadgreat love to music and often diverted himself with a viol, onwhich he played masterly; he had an exact ear and judgment inother music; he shot excellently in bows and guns, and much usedthem for his exercise; he had great judgment in paintings, graving, sculpture, and all liberal arts, and had many curiositiesof value in all kinds; he took great delight in perspectiveglasses, and, for his other rarities was not so much affected withthe antiquity as the merit of the work; he took much pleasure inimprovement of grounds, in planting groves and walks and fruittrees, in opening springs, and making fish-ponds. "

All these tastes were almost indispensable to anyone filling theposition which, alike, Dudley and Bradstreet held. "Steward" then, had a very different meaning from any associated with it now, andgreat estates were left practically in the hands of managers whilethe owners busied themselves in other directions, relying upon thegood taste as well as the financial ability of the men who, as arule, proved more than faithful to the trust. 

The first two years of marriage were passed in England, and heldthe last genuine social life and intellectual development thatAnne Bradstreet was to enjoy. The love of learning was not lost inthe transition from one country to another, but it took on moreand more a theological bias, and embodied itself chiefly insermons and interminable doctrinal discussions. Even before themarriage, Dudley had decided to join the New England colony, butSimon Bradstreet hesitated and lingered, till forced to a decisionby the increasing shadow of persecution. Had they remained inEngland, there is little doubt that Anne Bradstreet's mind, sensitively alive as it was to every fine influence, would havedeveloped in a far different direction to that which it finallytook. The directness and joyous life of the Elizabethan literaturehad given place to the euphuistic school, and as the Puritans putaside one author after another as "not making for godliness, " thestrained style, the quirks and conceits of men like Quarles andWithers came to represent the highest type of literary effort. Butno author had the influence of Du Bartas, whose poems had beentranslated by Joshua Sylvester in 1605, under the title of "DuBartas. His Duuine Weekes and Workes, with a Complete Collectionof all the other most delightfull Workes, Translated and Writtenby ye famous Philomusus, Josvah Sylvester, Gent. " He in turn wasan imitator; a French euphuist, whose work simply followed andpatterned after that of Ronsard, whose popularity for a time hadconvinced France that no other poet had been before him, and thatno successor could approach his power. He chose to study classicalmodels rather than nature or life, and his most formidable poem, merely a beginning of some five or six thousand verses on "therace of French kings, descended from Francion, a child of Hectorand a Trojan by birth, " ended prematurely on the death of CharlesIX, but served as a model for a generation of imitators. 

What spell lay in the involved and interminable pages the modernreader cannot decide, but Milton studied them, and affirmed thatthey had aided in forming his style, and Spenser wrote of him--

 "And after thee, (du Bellay) 'gins Barras hie to raise His Heavenly muse, th' Almighty to adore. Live, happy spirits! th' honor of your name, And fill the world with never dying fame. "

Dryden, too, shared the infatuation, and in the Epistle Dedicatoryto "The Spanish Friar, " wrote: "I remember when I was a boy, Ithought inimitable Spenser a mean poet, in comparison ofSylvester's 'Dubartas, ' and was wrapt into an ecstasy when I readthese lines:

 "'Now when the winter's keener breath began To crystallize the Baltic ocean; To glaze the lakes, to bridle up the floods, And periwig with snow (wool) the bald-pate woods. '

"I am much deceived if this be not abominable fustian. " Van Lannstigmatizes this poem, _Le Semaine ou Creation du Monde_, as "themarriage-register of science and verse, written by a Gascon Moses, who, to the minuteness of a Walt Whitman and the unction of aparish-clerk, added an occasional dignity superior to anythingattained by the abortive epic of his master. "

But he had some subtle, and to the nineteenth century mind, inscrutable charm. Poets studied him and Anne Bradstreet did morethan study; she absorbed them, till such originality as had beenher portion perished under the weight. In later years shedisclaimed the charge of having copied from him, but the infectionwas too thorough not to remain, and the assimilation had been soperfect that imitation was unconscious. There was everything in thelife of Du Bartas to appeal to her imagination as well as hersympathy, and with her minute knowledge of history she relished hisdetail while reverencing his character. For Du Bartas was a FrenchPuritan, holding the same religious views as Henry IV, before hebecame King of France, his strong religious nature appealing toevery English reader. Born in 1544, of noble parents, and broughtup, according to Michaud in the Biographic Universelle, to theprofession of arms, he distinguished himself as a soldier andnegotiater. Attached to the person of Prince Henry "in the capacityof gentleman in ordinary of his bedchamber, he was successfullyemployed by him on missions to Denmark, Scotland and England. Hewas at the battle of Ivry and celebrated in song the victory whichhe had helped to gain. He died four months after, in July, 1559, atthe age of forty-six, in consequence of some wounds which had beenbadly healed. He passed all the leisure which his duties left him, at his chateau du Bartas. It was there that he composed his longand numerous poems. . . . His principal poem, _La Semaine, _ wentthrough more than thirty editions in less than six years, and wastranslated into Latin, Italian, Spanish, English, German andDutch. "

The influence was an unfortunate one. Nature had already been setaside so thoroughly that, as with Dryden, Spenser was regarded ascommon-place and even puerile, and the record of real life orthought as no part of a poet's office. Such power of observationas Anne Bradstreet had was discouraged in the beginning, andthough later it asserted itself in slight degree, her early workshows no trace of originality, being, as we are soon to see, merely a rhymed paraphrase of her reading. That she wrote verse, not included in any edition of her poems, we know, the earliestdate assigned there being 1632, but the time she had dreaded wasat hand, and books and study went the way of many other pleasantthings. 

With the dread must have mingled a certain thrill of hope andexpectation common to every thinking man and woman who in thatseventeenth century looked to the New World to redress every wrongof the Old, and who watched every movement of the little band thatin Holland waited, for light on the doubtful and beclouded future. 

The story of the first settlement needs no repetition here. Theyears in Holland had knit the little band together more stronglyand lastingly than proved to be the case with any future company, their minister, John Robinson, having infused his own intense andself-abnegating nature into every one. That the Virginian colonieshad suffered incredibly they knew, but it had no power to dissuadethem. "We are well weaned, " John Robinson wrote, "from thedelicate milk of the mother-country, and inured to the difficultiesof a strange land; the people are industrious and frugal. Weare knit together as a body in a most sacred covenant of theLord, of the violation whereof we make great conscience, andby virtue whereof, we hold ourselves strictly tied to all careof each other's good and of the whole. It is not with us, as withmen whom small things can discourage. "

By 1629, the worst difficulties had been overcome, and thestruggle for mere existence had ended. The little colony, made upchiefly of hard working men, had passed through every phase ofsuffering. Sickness and famine had done their worst. The settlerswere thoroughly acclimated, and as they prospered, more and morethe eyes of Puritan England turned toward them, with a longing forthe same freedom. Laud's hand was heavy and growing heavier, andas privileges lessened, and one after another found fine, orpillory, or banishment awaiting every expression of thought, theeagerness grew and intensified. As yet there had been noseparation from the Mother Church. It had simply "divided into twogreat parties, the Prelatical or Hierarchical, headed by Laud, andthe Nonconformist or Puritan. " For the latter, Calvin had becomethe sole authority, and even as early as 1603, their preachersmade up more than a ninth of the clergy. The points of disagreementincreased steadily, each fresh severity from the Prelatical partybeing met by determined resistance, and a stubborn resolutionnever to yield an inch of the new convictions. No clearerpresentation of the case is to be found anywhere than in Mason'slife of Milton, the poet's life being absolutely contemporaneouswith the cause, and his own experience came to be that of hundreds. From his childhood he had been set apart for the ministry, but he was as he wrote in later life, with a bitterness henever lost, "Church-outed by the prelates. " "Coming to somematurity of years, and perceiving what tyranny had invaded in theChurch, that he who would take orders, must subscribe slave, andtake an oath withal, which, unless he took with a conscience thatwould retch, he must either straight perjure or split his faith, Ithought it better to prefer a blameless silence before the sacredoffice of speaking, bought and begun with servitude andforswearing. "

Each year of the increasing complications found a larger bodyenrolled on his side, and with 1629, Simon Bradstreet resigned anyhope of life in England, and cast in his fortunes once for allwith the projected colony. In dissolving his third ParliamentCharles had granted the charter for the Massachusetts Colony, andseizing upon this as a "Providential call, " the Puritans at oncecirculated "conclusions" among gentry and traders, and fulldescriptions of Massachusetts. Already many capitalists deemedencouragement of the emigration an excellent speculation, but theprospective emigrants had no mind to be ruled by a commercialcompany at home, and at last, after many deliberations, the oldcompany was dissolved; the officers resigned and their places werefilled by persons who proposed to emigrate. 

Two days before this change twelve gentlemen met at Cambridge and"pledged themselves to each other to embark for New England withtheir families for a permanent residence. "

"Provided always, that, before the last of September next, thewhole government, together with the patent for the saidplantation, be first legally transferred. " Dudley's name was oneof the twelve, and at another meeting in October he was alsopresent, with John Winthrop, who was shortly chosen governor. Aday or two later, Dudley was made assistant governor, and in theearly spring of 1630, but a few days before sailing SimonBradstreet was elected to the same office in the place of Mr. Thomas Goffe. One place of trust after another was filled by thetwo men, whose history henceforward is that of New England. Dudleybeing very shortly made "undertaker, " that is, to be one of thosehaving "the sole managinge of the joynt stock, wth all thingsincydent theronto, for the space of 7 years. "

Even for the sternest enthusiasts, the departure seemed abanishment, though Winthrop spoke the mind of all when he wrote, "I shall call that my country where I may most glorify God andenjoy the presence of my dearest friends. "

For him the dearest were left behind for a time, and in allliterature there is no tenderer letter than that in which his lastwords go to the wife whom he loved with all the strength of hisnature, and the parting from whom, was the deepest proof thatcould have been of his loyalty to the cause he had made his own. 

As he wrote the Arbella was riding at anchor at Cowes, waiting forfavorable winds. Some of the party had gone on shore, and alllonged to end these last hours of waiting which simply prolonged apain that even the most determined and resolute among them, feltto be almost intolerable. Many messages went back carried byfriends who lingered at Cowes for the last look at the vanishingsails, but none better worth record than the words which hold theman's deep and tender soul. 

"And now, my sweet soul, I must once again take my last farewellof thee in old England. It goeth very near to my heart to leavethee, but I know to whom I have committed thee, even to Him, wholoves thee much better than any husband can; who hath takenaccount of the hairs of thy head, and puts all thy tears in hisbottle; who can, and (if it be for his glory) will, bring ustogether again with peace and comfort. Oh, how it refresheth myheart to think, that I shall yet again see thy sweet face in theland of the living; that lovely countenance that I have so muchdelighted in, and beheld with so great content! I have hithertobeen so taken up with business, as I could seldom look back to myformer happiness; but now when I shall be at some leisure, I shallnot avoid the remembrance of thee, nor the grief for thy absence. Thou hast thy share with me, but I hope the course we have agreedupon will be some ease to us both. Mondays and Fridays at fiveo'clock at night we shall meet in spirit till we meet in person. Yet if all these hopes should fail, blessed be our God, that weare assured we shall meet one day, if not as husband and wife, yetin a better condition. Let that stay and comfort thine heart. Neither can the sea drown thy husband, nor enemies destroy, norany adversity deprive thee of thy husband or children. Therefore Iwill only take thee now and my sweet children in mine arms, andkiss and embrace you all, and so leave you with God. Farewell, farewell. I bless you all in the name of the Lord Jesus. "

"Farewell, dear England!" burst from the little group on that 8thof April, 1630, when at last, a favorable wind bore them out tosea, and Anne Bradstreet's voice had part in that cry of pain andlonging, as the shores grew dim and "home faded from their sight. But one comfort or healing remained for them, in the faith thathad been with all from the beginning, one record being for themand the host who preceded and followed their flight. So they leftthat goodly and pleasant city which had been their restingplace; . . . But they knew they were pilgrims and looked not much onthose things, but lift up their eyes to the heavens, their dearestcountry, and quieted their spirits. "

CHAPTER III. 

THE VOYAGE. 

It is perhaps the fault of the seventeenth century and its firmbelief that a woman's office was simply to wait such action as manmight choose to take, that no woman's record remains of the longvoyage or the first impressions of the new country. 

For the most of them writing was by no means a familiar task, butthis could not be said of the women on board the Arbella, who hadknown the highest cultivation that the time afforded. But poorAnne Bradstreet's young "heart rose, " to such a height thatutterance may have been quite stifled, and as her own family wereall with her, there was less need of any chronicle. 

For all details, therefore, we are forced to depend on the journalkept by Governor Winthrop, who busied himself not only with this, making the first entry on that Easter Monday which found themriding at anchor at Cowes, but with another quite as characteristicpiece of work. A crowded storm-tossed ship, is hardly a point towhich one looks for any sustained or fine literary composition, but the little treatise, "A Model of Christian Charity, " the fruitof long and silent musing on the new life awaiting them, holdsthe highest thought of the best among them, and was undoubtedlyread with the profoundest feeling and admiration, as it took shapein the author's hands. There were indications even in the firstfervor of the embarkation, that even here some among themthought "every man upon his own, " while greater need ofunselfishness and self-renunciation had never been beforea people. "Only by mutual love and help, " and "a grand, patient, self-denial, " was there the slightest hope of meeting the demandsbound up with the new conditions, and Winthrop wrote--"We must beknit together in this work as one man. We must entertain eachother in brotherly affection. We must be willing to abridgeourselves of our superfluities for the supply of others'necessities. We must uphold a familiar commerce together, in allmeekness, gentleness, patience and liberality. We must delight ineach other; make others' conditions our own; rejoice together, mourn together, labor and suffer together, always having beforeour eyes, our commission and community in the work as members ofthe same body. "

A portion of this body were as closely united as if forming butone family. The lady Arbella, in compliment to whom the ship, which had been first known as The Eagle, had been re-christened, had married Mr. Isaac Johnson, one of the wealthiest members ofthe party. She was a sister of the Earl of Lincoln who had come tothe title in 1619, and whose family had a more intimate connectionwith the New England settlements than that of any other Englishnobleman. Her sister Susan had become the wife of John Humfrey, another member of the company, and the close friendship betweenthem and the Dudleys made it practically a family party. AnneBradstreet had grown up with both sisters, and all occupiedthemselves in such ways as their cramped quarters would allow. Space was of the narrowest, and if the Governor and his deputiesindulged themselves in spreading out papers, there would be smallroom for less important members of the expedition. But each hadthe little Geneva Bible carried by every Puritan, and read it witha concentrated eagerness born of the sense that they had justescaped its entire loss, and there were perpetual religiousexercises of all varieties, with other more secular ones recordedin the Journal. In the beginning there had been some expectationthat several other ships would form part of the expedition, butthey were still not in sailing order and thus the first entryrecords "It was agreed, (it being uncertain when the rest of thefleet would be ready) these four ships should consort together;the Arbella to be Admiral, the Talbot Vice-Admiral, the AmbroseRear-Admiral, and the Jewel a Captain; and accordingly articles ofconsortship were drawn between the said captains and masters. "

The first week was one of small progress, for contrary winds drovethem back persistently and they at last cast anchor beforeYarmouth, and with the feeling that some Jonah might be in theirmidst ordered a fast for Friday, the 2d of April, at which timecertain light-minded "landmen, pierced a runlet of strong water, and stole some of it, for which we laid them in bolts all thenight, and the next morning the principal was openly whipped, andboth kept with bread and water that day. "

Nothing further happened till Monday, when excitement was affordedfor the younger members of the party at least, as "A maid of SirRobert Saltonstall fell down at the grating by the cook-room, butthe carpenter's man, who unwittingly, occasioned her fall caughthold of her with incredible nimbleness, and saved her; otherwiseshe had fallen into the hold. "

Tuesday, finding that the wind was still against them, the captaindrilled the landmen with their muskets, "and such as were goodshot among them were enrolled to serve in the ship if occasionshould be"; while the smell of powder and the desire, perhaps, forone more hour on English soil, made the occasion for another item:"The lady Arbella and the gentlewomen, and Mr. Johnson and someothers went on shore to refresh themselves. "

The refreshment was needed even then. Anne Bradstreet was stillextremely delicate, never having fully recovered from the effectsof the small-pox, and the Lady Arbella's health must have been soalso, as it failed steadily through the voyage, giving the sorestanxiety to her husband and every friend on board. 

It is evident from an entry in Anne Bradstreet's diary afterreaching New England that even the excitement of change and thehope common to all of a happy future, was not strong enough tokeep down the despondency which came in part undoubtedly from herweak health. The diary is not her own thoughts or impressions ofthe new life, but simply bits of religious experience; anautobiography of the phase with which we could most easilydispense. "After a short time I changed my condition and wasmarried, and came into this country, where I found a new world andnew manners at which my heart rose. But after I was convinced itwas the will of God I submitted to it and joined to the church atBoston. "

This rebellion must have been from the beginning, for every inchof English soil was dear to her, but she concealed it sothoroughly, that no one suspected the real grief which she lookedupon as rebellion to the will of God. Conservative in thought andtraining, and with the sense of humor which might have lightenedsome phases of the new dispensation, almost destroyed by thePuritan faith, which more and more altered the proportions ofthings, making life only a grim battle with evil, and the daysdoings of absolute unimportance save as they advanced one towardheaven, she accepted discomfort or hardship with quiet patience. 

There must have been unfailing interest, too, in the perpetualchances and changes of the perilous voyage. They had weighed anchorfinally on the 8th of April, and were well under way on the morningof the 9th, when their journey seemed suddenly likely to end thenand there. The war between Spain and England was still going on, andprivateers known as Dunkirkers, were lying in wait before everyEnglish harbor. Thus there was reason enough for apprehension, when, "In the morning we descried from the top, eight sail astern ofus. . . . We supposing they might be Dunkirkers, our captain caused thegun room and gun deck to be cleared; all the hammocks were takendown, our ordnance loaded, and our powder chests and fireworks madeready, and our landmen quartered among the seamen, and twenty-fiveof them appointed for muskets, and every man written down for hisquarter. 

"The wind continued N. With fair weather, and after noon itcalmed, and we still saw those eight ships to stand towards us;having more wind than we, they came up apace, so as our captainand the masters of our consorts were more occasioned to think theymight be Dunkirkers, (for we were told at Yarmouth, that therewere ten sail of them waiting for us); whereupon we all preparedto fight with them, and took down some cabins which were in theway of our ordnance, and out of every ship were thrown such bedmatters as were subject to take fire, and we heaved out our longboats and put up our waste cloths, and drew forth our men andarmed them with muskets and other weapons, and instruments forfireworks; and for an experiment our captain shot a ball of wildfire fastened to an arrow out of a cross bow, which burnt in thewater a good time. The lady Arbella and the other women andchildren, were removed into the lower deck, that they might be outof danger. All things being thus fitted, we went to prayer uponthe upper deck. It was much to see how cheerful and comfortableall the company appeared; not a woman or child that shewed fear, though all did apprehend the danger to have been great, if thingshad proved as might well be expected, for there had been eightagainst four, and the least of the enemy's ships were reported tocarry thirty brass pieces; but our trust was in the Lord of Hosts;and the courage of our captain, and his care and diligence didmuch to encourage us. 

"It was now about one of the clock, and the fleet seemed to bewithin a league of us; therefore our captain, because he wouldshow he was not afraid of them, and that he might see the issuebefore night should overtake us, tacked about and stood to meetthem, and when we came near we perceived them to be our friends--the little Neptune, a ship of some twenty pieces of ordnance, andher two consorts, bound for the Straits, a ship of Flushing, and aFrenchman and three other English ships bound for Canada andNewfoundland. So when we drew near, every ship (as they met)saluted each other, and the musketeers discharged their smallshot, and so (God be praised) our fear and danger was turned intomirth and friendly entertainment. Our danger being thus over, weespied two boats on fishing in the channel; so every one of ourfour ships manned out a skiff, and we bought of them great storeof excellent fresh fish of divers sorts. "

It is an astonishing fact, that no line in Anne Bradstreet's poemshas any reference to this experience which held every alternationof hope and fear, and which must have moved them beyond any otherhappening of the long voyage. But, inward states, then asafterward, were the only facts that seemed worthy of expression, so far as she personally was concerned, and they were all keyed toa pitch which made danger even welcome, as a test of endurance andgenuine purpose. But we can fancy the dismay of every house-wifeas the limited supply of "bed matters, " went the way of many otherthings "subject to take fire. " Necessarily the household goods ofeach had been reduced to the very lowest terms, and as theprecious rugs and blankets sunk slowly, or for a time defied thewaves and were tossed from crest to crest, we may be sure that theheart of every woman, in the end at least, desired sorely thatrescue might be attempted. Sheets had been dispensed with, toavoid the accumulation of soiled linen, for the washing of whichno facilities could be provided, and Winthrop wrote of his boys tohis wife in one of his last letters, written as they rode atanchor before Cowes, "They lie both with me, and sleep as soundlyin a rug (for we use no sheets here) as ever they did at Groton;and so I do myself, (I praise God). "

Among minor trials this was not the least, for the comfort weassociate with English homes, had developed, under the Puritanlove of home, to a degree that even in the best days of theElizabethan time was utterly unknown. The faith which demandedabsolute purity of life, included the beginning of thatcleanliness which is "next to godliness, " if not an inherent partof godliness itself, and fine linen on bed and table had becomemore and more a necessity. The dainty, exquisite neatness that inthe past has been inseparable from the idea of New England, beganwith these Puritan dames, who set their floating home in suchorder as they could, and who seized the last opportunity atYarmouth of going on shore, not only for refreshment, but to washneckbands and other small adornments, which waited two months forany further treatment of this nature. 

There were many resources, not only in needlework and thenecessary routine of each day, but in each other. The twodaughters of Sir Robert Saltonstall, Mrs. Phillips the minister'swife, the wives of Nowell, Coddington and others made up the groupof gentlewomen who dined with Lady Arbella in "the great cabin, "the greatness of which will be realized when the reader reflectsthat the ship was but three hundred and fifty tons burden andcould carry aside from the fifty or so sailors, but thirtypassengers, among whom were numbered various discreet andreputable "young gentlemen" who, as Winthrop wrote, "behavethemselves well, and are conformable to all good orders, " one ortwo of whom so utilized their leisure that the landing found themready for the marriage bells that even Puritan asceticism stillallowed to be rung. 

Disaster waited upon them, even when fairly under way. Winthrop, whose family affection was intense, and whose only solace inparting with his wife had been, that a greatly loved older son, aswell as two younger ones were his companions, had a soredisappointment, entered in the journal, with little comment on itspersonal bearings. "The day we set sail from Cowes, my son HenryWinthrop went on shore with one of my servants, to fetch an ox andten wethers, which he had provided for our ship, and there went onshore with him Mr. Pelham and one of his servants. They sent thecattle aboard, but returned not themselves. About three days aftermy servant and a servant of Mr. Pelham's came to us in Yarmouth, and told us they were all coming to us in a boat the day before, but the wind was so strong against them as they were forced onshore in the night, and the two servants came to Yarmouth by land, and so came on shipboard, but my son and Mr. Pelham (we heard)went back to the Cowes and so to Hampton. We expected them threeor four days after, but they came not to us, so we have left thembehind, and suppose they will come after in Mr. Goffe's ships. Wewere very sorry they had put themselves upon such inconveniencewhen they were so well accommodated in our ship. "

A fresh gale on the day of this entry encouraged them all; theypassed the perils of Scilly and looked for no further delay when afresh annoyance was encountered which, for the moment, held forthe women at least, something of the terror of their meeting withsupposed "Dunkirkers. "

"About eight in the morning, . . . Standing to the W. S. W. We mettwo small ships, which falling in among us, and the Admiral comingunder our lee, we let him pass, but the Jewel and Ambrose, perceiving the other to be a Brazilman, and to take the wind ofus, shot at them, and made them stop and fall after us, and sent askiff aboard them to know what they were. Our captain, fearinglest some mistake might arise, and lest they should take them forenemies which were friends, and so, through the unruliness of themariners some wrong might be done them, caused his skiff to beheaved out, and sent Mr. Graves, one of his mates and our pilot (adiscreet man) to see how things were, who returned soon after, andbrought with him the master of one of the ships, and Mr. Lowe andMr. Hurlston. When they were come aboard to us, they agreed tosend for the captain, who came and showed his commission from thePrince of Orange. In conclusion he proved to be a Dutchmen, andhis a man of war from Flushing, and the other ship was a prize hehad taken, laden with sugar and tobacco; so we sent them aboardtheir ships again, and held on our course. In this time (whichhindered us five or six leagues) the Jewel and the Ambrose camefoul of each other, so as we much feared the issue, but, throughGod's mercy, they came well off again, only the Jewel had herforesail torn, and one of her anchors broken. This occasion andthe sickness of our minister and people, put us all out of orderthis day, so as we could have no sermons. "

No words hold greater force of discomfort and deprivation thanthat one line, "so as we could have no sermons, " for the capacityfor this form of "temperate entertainment, " had increased in suchratio, that the people sat spell bound, four hours at a stretch, both hearers and speaker being equally absorbed. Winthrop hadwritten of himself at eighteen, in his "Christain Experience": "Ihad an insatiable thirst after the word of God; and could notmisse a good sermon, though many miles off, especially of such asdid search deep into the conscience, " and to miss this refreshmenteven for a day, seemed just so much loss of the needed spiritualfood. 

But the wind, which blew "a stiffe gale, " had no respect ofpersons, and all were groaning together till the afternoon of thenext day, when a device occurred to some inventive mind, possiblythat of Mistress Bradstreet herself, which was immediately carriedout. "Our children and others that were sick and lay groaning inthe cabins, we fetched out, and having stretched a rope from thesteerage to the main mast, we made them stand, some of one sideand some of the other, and sway it up and down till they werewarm, and by this means they soon grew well and merry. "

The plan worked well, and three days later, when the wind whichhad quieted somewhat, again blew a "stiffe gale, " he was able towrite: "This day the ship heaved and set more than before, yet wehad but few sick, and of these such as came up upon the deck andstirred themselves, were presently well again; therefore ourcaptain set our children and young men, to some harmlessexercises, which the seamen were very active in, and did ourpeople much good, though they would sometimes play the wags withthem. "

Wind and rain, rising often till the one was a gale and the othertorrents, gave them small rest in that first week. The fish theyhad secured at Yarmouth returned to their own element, Winthropmourning them as he wrote: "The storm was so great as it split ourforesail and tore it in pieces, and a knot of the sea washed ourtub overboard, wherein our fish was a-watering. " The children hadbecome good sailers, and only those were sick, who, like "thewomen kept under hatches. " The suffering from cold was constant, and for a fortnight extreme, the Journal reading: "I wish, therefore, that all such as shall pass this way in the spring havecare to provide warm clothing; for nothing breeds more trouble anddanger of sickness, in this season, than cold. "

From day to day the little fleet exchanged signals, and now andthen, when calm enough the masters of the various ships dined inthe round-house of the Arbella, and exchanged news, as that, "alltheir people were in health, but one of their cows was dead. " Twoships in the distance on the 24th of April, disturbed them for atime, but they proved to be friends, who saluted and "conferredtogether so long, till his Vice Admiral was becalmed by our sails, and we were foul one of another, but there being little wind andthe sea calm, we kept them asunder with oars, etc. , till theyheaved out their boat, and so towed their ship away. They told usfor certain, that the king of France had set out six of his ownships to recover the fort from them. "

Here was matter for talk among the travellers, whose interest inall that touched their future heightened day by day, and the item, with its troublous implications may have been the foundation ofone of the numerous fasts recorded. 

May brought no suggestion of any quiet, though three weeks out, they had made but three hundred leagues, and the month opened with"a very great tempest all the night, with fierce showers of rainintermixed, and very cold. . . . Yet through God's mercy, we werevery comfortable and few or none sick, but had opportunity to keepthe Sabbath, and Mr. Phillips preached twice that day. "

Discipline was of the sharpest, the Puritan temper brooking noinfractions of law and order. There were uneasy and turbulentspirits both among the crew and passengers, and in the beginningswift judgment fell upon two young men, who, "falling at odds andfighting, contrary to the orders which we had published and set upin the ship, were adjudged to walk upon the deck till night, withtheir hands bound behind them, which accordingly was executed; andanother man for using contemptuous speeches in our presence, waslaid in bolts till he submitted himself and promised openconfession of his offence. "

Impressive as this undoubtedly proved to the "children and youththereby admonished, " a still greater sensation was felt among themon the discovery that "a servant of one of our company hadbargained with a child to sell him a box worth three-pence forthree biscuits a day all the voyage, and had received about fortyand had sold them and many more to some other servants. We causedhis hands to be tied up to a bar, and hanged a basket with stonesabout his neck, and so he stood two hours. "

Other fights are recorded, the cause a very evident one. "Weobserved it a common fault in our young people that they gavethemselves to drink hot waters very immoderately. "

Brandy then as now was looked upon as a specific for sea-sickness, and "a maid servant in the ship, being stomach sick, drank so muchstrong water, that she was senseless, and had near killedherself. "

The constant cold and rain, the monotonous food, which before portwas reached had occasioned many cases of scurvy and reduced thestrength of all, was excuse enough for the occasional lapse intooverindulgence which occurred, but the long penance was nearlyended. On the 8th of June Mount Mansell, now Mt. Desert, waspassed, an enchanting sight for the sea-sad eyes of thetravellers. A "handsome gale" drove them swiftly on, and we mayknow with what interest they crowded the decks and gazed uponthese first glimpses of the new home. As they sailed, keeping wellin to shore, and making the new features of hill and meadow andunfamiliar trees, Winthrop wrote: "We had now fair sunshineweather, and so pleasant a sweet air as did much refresh us, andthere came a smell off the shore like the smell of a garden. "

Peril was past, and though fitful winds still tormented them, the12th of May saw the long imprisonment ended, and they droppedanchor "a little within the islands, " in the haven where theywould be. 

CHAPTER IV. 

BEGINNINGS. 

There are travellers who insist that, as they near American shoresin May or early June, the smell of corn-blossom is on the wind, miles out at sea, a delicate, distinct, penetrating odor, asthoroughly American as the clearness of the sky and the pure, finequality in the air. The wild grape, growing as profusely to-day onthe Cape as two hundred years ago, is even more powerful, thesubtle, delicious fragrance making itself felt as soon as oneapproaches land. The "fine, fresh smell like a garden, " whichWinthrop notes more than once, came to them on every breeze fromthe blossoming land. Every charm of the short New England summerwaited for them. They had not, like the first comers to that coastto disembark in the midst of ice and snow, but green hills slopeddown to the sea, and wild strawberries were growing almost athigh-tide mark. The profusion of flowers and berries had rejoicedHigginson in the previous year, their men rowing at once to "TenPound Island, " and bringing back, he writes: "ripe strawberriesand gooseberries and sweet single roses. Thus God was merciful tous in giving us a taste and smell of the sweet fruit, as anearnest of his bountiful goodness to welcome us at our firstarrival. "

But no fairness of Nature could undo the sad impression of thefirst hour in the little colony at Salem, where the Arbellalanded, three days before her companions reached there. Their owncares would have seemed heavy enough, but the winter had been aterrible one, and Dudley wrote later in his letter to the Countessof Lincoln: "We found the Colony in a sad and unexpectedcondition, above eighty of them being dead the winter before; andmany of those alive, weak and sick; all the corn and bread amongstthem all, hardly sufficient to feed them a fortnight, insomuchthat the remainder of a hundred and eighty servants we had the twoyears before sent over, coming to us for victuals to sustain them, we found ourselves wholly unable to feed them, by reason that theprovisions shipped for them were taken out of the ship they wereput in, and they who were trusted to ship them in another, failedus and left them behind; whereupon necessity enforced us, to ourextreme loss, to give them all liberty, who had cost us about L16or L20 a person, furnishing and sending over. "

Salem holding only discouragement, they left it, exploring theCharles and the Mystic Rivers, and finally joining the settlementat Charlestown, to which Francis Higginson had gone the previousyear, and which proved to be in nearly as desperate case as Salem. The Charlestown records as given in Young's "Chronicles ofMassachusetts, " tell the story of the first days of attempt atorganization. The goods had all been unshipped at Salem and werenot brought to Charlestown until July. In the meantime, "TheGovernor and several of the Patentees dwelt in the great housewhich was last year built in this town by Mr. Graves and the restof their servants. The multitude set up cottages, booths and tentsabout the Town Hill. They had long passage; some of the ships wereseventeen, some eighteen weeks a coming. Many people arrived sickof the scurvy, which also increased much after their arrival, forwant of houses, and by reason of wet lodging in their cottages, etc. Other distempers also prevailed; and although [the] peoplewere generally very loving and pitiful, yet the sickness did soprevail, that the whole were not able to tend the sick as theyshould be tended; upon which many perished and died, and wereburied about the Town Hill. "

Saddest of all among these deaths must have been that of the LadyArbella, of whom Mather in a later day, wrote: "She came from aparadise of plenty and pleasure, in the family of a noble earldom, into a wilderness of wants, and took New England in her way toheaven. " There had been doubt as to the expediency of her coming, but with the wife of another explorer she had said: "Whithersoeveryour fatal destiny shall drive you, either by the waves of thegreat ocean, or by the manifold and horrible dangers of the land, I will surely bear you company. There can no peril chance to me soterrible, nor any kind of death so cruel, that shall not be mucheasier for me to abide, than to live so far separate from you. "

Weakened by the long voyage and its perpetual hardships, anddismayed, if may be at the sadness and privations of what they hadhoped might hold immediate comfort, she could not rally, and AnneBradstreet's first experience of New England was over the grave, in which they laid one of the closest links to childhood and thatEngland both had loved alike. 

Within a month, Winthrop wrote in his journal: "September 30. About two in the morning, Mr. Isaac Johnson died; his wife, thelady Arbella, of the house of Lincoln, being dead about one monthbefore. He was a holy man and wise, and died in sweet peace, leaving some part of his substance to the Colony. "

 "He tried To live without her, liked it not and died. "

Still another tragedy had saddened them all, though in the pressof overwhelming business, Winthrop wrote only: "Friday, July 2. Myson Henry Winthrop drowned at Salem, " and there is no othermention of himself till July 16, when he wrote the first letter tohis wife from America. 

The loss was a heavy one to the colony as well as the father, forHenry Winthrop, though but twenty-two, had already had experienceas a pioneer, having gone out to Barbadoes at eighteen, and becameone of the earliest planters in that island. Ardent, energetic, and with his fathers deep tenderness for all who depended on him, he was one who could least be spared. "A sprightly and hopefulyoung gentleman he was, " says Hubbard, and another chronicle givesmore minute details. "The very day on which he went on shore inNew England, he and the principal officers of the ship, walkingout to a place now called by the Salemites, Northfield, to viewthe Indian wigwams, they saw on the other side of the river asmall canoe. He would have had one of the company swim over andfetch it, rather than walk several miles on foot, it being veryhot weather; but none of the party could swim but himself; and sohe plunged in, and, as he was swimming over, was taken with thecramp a few roods from the shore and drowned. "

The father's letter is filled with an anguish of pity for themother and the young wife, whose health, like that of the elderMrs. Winthrop, had made the journey impossible for both. 

"I am so overpressed with business, as I have no time for these orother mine own private occasions. I only write now that thoumayest know, that yet I live and am mindful of thee in all myaffairs. The larger discourse of all things thou shalt receivefrom my brother Downing, which I must send by some of the lastships. We have met with many sad and discomfortable things as thoushalt hear after; and the Lord's hand hath been heavy upon myselfin some very near to me. My son Henry! My son Henry! Ah, poorchild! Yet it grieves me much more for my dear daughter. The Lordstrengthen and comfort her heart to bear this cross patiently. Iknow thou wilt not be wanting to her in this distress. "

Not one of the little colony was wanting in tender offices inthese early days when a common suffering made them "very pitifulone to another, " and as the absolutely essential business wasdisposed of they hastened to organize the church where freeworship should make amends for all the long sorrow of its search. 

A portion of the people from the Arbella had remained in Salem, but on Friday, July 3Oth, 1630, Winthrop, Dudley, Johnson andWilson entered into a church covenant, which was signed two daysafter by Increase Nowell and four others--Sharpe, Bradstreet, Gager and Colborne. 

It is most probable that Anne Bradstreet had been temporarilyseparated from her husband, as Johnson in his "Wonder-workingProvidence, " writes, that after the arrival at Salem, "the ladyArrabella and some other godly women aboad at Salem, but theirhusbands continued at Charles Town, both for the settling theCivill Government and gathering another Church of Christ. " Thedelay was a short one, for her name stands thirteenth on the list. Charlestown, however, held hardly more promise of quiet life thanSalem. The water supply was, curiously enough, on a peninsulawhich later gave excellent water, only "a brackish spring in thesands by the water side . . . Which could not supply half thenecessities of the multitude, at which time the death of so manywas concluded to be much the more occasioned by this want of goodwater. "

Heat was another evil to the constitutions which knew only theequable English temperature, and could not face either the intensesun, or the sudden changes of the most erratic climate the earthknows. In the search for running-water, the colonists scattered, moving from point to point, "the Governor, the Deputy-Governor andall the assistants except Mr. Nowell going across the river toBoston at the invitation of Mr. Blaxton, who had until then beenits only white inhabitant. "

Even the best supplied among them were but scantily provided withprovisions. It was too late for planting, and the colony alreadyestablished was too wasted and weakened by sickness to have caredfor crops in the planting season. In the long voyage "there wasmiserable damage and spoil of provisions by sea, and divers camenot so well provided as they would, upon a report, whilst theywere in England, that now there was enough in New England. " Eventhis small store was made smaller by the folly of several whoexchanged food for beaver skins, and, the Council suddenly findingthat famine was imminent "hired and despatched away Mr. WilliamPearce with his ship of about two hundred tons, for Ireland to buymore, and in the mean time went on with their work of settling. "

The last month of the year had come before they could decide wherethe fortified town, made necessary by Indian hostilities, shouldbe located. The Governor's house had been partly framed atCharlestown, but with the removal to Boston it was taken down, andfinally Cambridge was settled upon as the most desirable point, and their first winter was spent there. Here for the first time itwas possible for Anne Bradstreet to unpack their householdbelongings, and seek to create some semblance of the forsakenhome. But even for the Dudleys, among the richest members of theparty there was a privation which shows how sharply it must havefared with the poorer portion, and Dudley wrote, nine months aftertheir arrival, that he "thought fit to commit to memory ourpresent condition, and what hath befallen us since our arrivalhere; which I will do shortly, after my usual manner, and must dorudely, having yet no table, nor other room to write in than bythe fireside upon my knee, in this sharp winter; to which myfamily must have leave to resort, though they break good manners, and make me many times forget what I would say, and say what Iwould not. "

No word of Mistress Dudley's remains to tell the shifts andstrivings for comfort in that miserable winter which, mild as itwas, had a keenness they were ill prepared to face. Petty miseriesand deprivations, the least endurable of all forms of suffering, surrounded them like a cloud of stinging insects, whose attacks, however intolerable at the moment, are forgotten with the passing, and either for this reason, or from deliberate purpose, there isnot a line of reference to them in any of Anne Bradstreet'swritings. Scarcity of food was the sorest trouble. The Charlestownrecords show that "people were necessitated to live upon clams andmuscles and ground nuts and acorns, and these got with muchdifficulty in the winter-time. People were very much tried anddiscouraged, especially when they heard that the Governor himselfhad the last batch of bread in the oven. "

All fared alike so far as possible, the richer and more providentdistributing to the poor, and all watching eagerly for the shipsent back in July in anticipation of precisely such a crisis. Sixmonths had passed, when, on the fifth of February, 1631, Matherrecords that as Winthrop stood at his door giving "the lasthandful of meal in the barrel unto a poor man distressed by thewolf at the door, at that instant, they spied a ship arrived atthe harbor's mouth with provisions for them all. " The Fast dayjust appointed became one of rejoicing, the first formalproclamation for Thanksgiving Day being issued, "by order of theGovernour and Council, directed to all the plantations, and thoughthe stores held little reminder of holiday time in Old England, grateful hearts did not stop to weigh differences. In any case theworst was past and early spring brought the hope of substantialcomfort, for the town was 'laid out in squares, the streetsintersecting each other at right-angles, ' and houses were builtas rapidly as their small force of carpenters could work. Bradstreet's house was at the corner of 'Brayntree' and WoodStreets, the spot now occupied by the familiar University Book-store of Messrs. Sever and Francis on Harvard Square, his plot ofground being 'aboute one rood, ' and Dudley's on a lot of half anacre was but a little distance from them at the corner of thepresent Dunster and South Streets. " Governor Winthrop's decisionnot to remain here, brought about some sharp correspondencebetween Dudley and himself, but an amicable settlement followedafter a time, and though the frame of his house was removed toBoston, the town grew in spite of its loss, so swiftly that in1633, Wood wrote of it:

"This is one of the neatest and best compacted Towns in NewEngland, having many fair structures, with many handsome contrivedstreets. The inhabitants most of them are very rich and wellstored with Cattell of all sorts. "

Rich as they may have appeared, however, in comparison with manyof the settlements about them, sickness and want were stillunwelcome guests among them, so that Dudley wrote: "there is not ahouse where there is not one dead and in some houses many. Thenatural causes seem to be in the want of warm lodging and gooddiet, to which Englishmen are habituated at home, and in thesudden increase of heat which they endure that are landed here insummer, the salt meats at sea having prepared their bodiesthereto; for those only these two last years died of fevers wholanded in June and July; as those of Plymouth, who landed inwinter, died of the scurvey, as did our poorer sort, whose housesand bedding kept them not sufficiently warm, nor their dietsufficiently in heart. "

Thus far there were small inducements for further emigration. Thetide poured in steadily, but only because worse evils were behindthan semi-starvation in New England. The fairest and fullestwarning was given by Dudley, whose letter holds every strait andstruggle of the first year, and who wrote with the intention ofcounteracting the too rosy statements of Higginson and Graves: "Ifany come hither to plant for worldly ends that can live well athome, he commits an error, of which he will soon repent him; butif for spiritual, and that no particular obstacle hinder hisremoval, he may find here what may well content him, viz. , materials to build, fuel to burn, ground to plant, seas and riversto fish in, a pure air to breathe in, good water to drink tillwine or beer can be made; which together with the cows, hogs andgoats brought hither already, may suffice for food; for as forfowl and venison, they are dainties here as well as in England. For clothes and bedding, they must bring them with them, till timeand industry produce them here. In a word, we yet enjoy little tobe envied, but endure much to be pitied in the sickness andmortality of our people. And I do the more willingly use this openand plain dealing, lest other men should fall short of theirexpectations when they come hither, as we to our great prejudicedid, by means of letters sent us from hence into England, whereinhonest men, out of a desire to draw over others to them, wrotesomething hyperbolically of many things here. If any godly men, out of religious ends, will come over to help us in the good workwe are about, I think they cannot dispose of themselves nor theirestates more to God's glory and the furtherance of their ownreckoning. But they must not be of the poorer sort yet, for diversyears; for we have found by experience that they have hindered, not furthered the work. And for profane and debauched persons, their oversight in coming hither is wondered at, where they shallfind nothing to content them. "

This long quotation is given in full to show the fair temper ofthe man, who as time went on was slightly less in favor than inthe beginning. No one questioned his devotion to the cause, or theenergy with which he worked for it, but as he grew older he lostsome portion of the old urbanity, exchanging it disastrously fortraits which would seem to have been the result of increasingnarrowness of religious faith rather than part of his real self. Savage writes of him: "a hardness in publick and ridgidity inprivate life, are too observable in his character, and even aneagerness for pecuniary gain, which might not have been expectedin a soldier and a statesman. " That the impression was general isevident from an epitaph written upon him by Governor Belcher, whomay, however, have had some personal encounter with this"rigidity, " which was applied to all without fear or favor. 

 "Here lies Thomas Dudley, that trusty old stud, A bargain's a bargain and must be made good. "

Whatever his tendencies may have been they did not weigh heavilyon his family, who delighted in his learning and devoted spirit, and whose affection was strong enough to atone for any criticismfrom outsiders. 

Objectionable as his methods may sometimes have been--sour as hiscompatriots now and then are said to have found him, "the world itappears, is indebted for much of its progress, to uncomfortableand even grumpy people, " and Tyler whose analysis of the Puritancharacter has never been surpassed, writes of them: "Even some ofthe best of them, perhaps, would have seemed to us ratherpragmatical and disputatious persons, with all the edges andcorners of their characters left sharp, with all their opinionsvery definitely formed, and with their habits of frank utterancequite thoroughly matured. Certainly . . . They do not seem to havebeen a company of gentle, dreamy and euphemistical saints, with aparticular aptitude for martyrdom and an inordinate development ofaffability. "

They argued incessantly, at home and abroad, and "this exactingand tenacious propensity of theirs, was not a little criticized bysome who had business connections with them. " Very probablyGovernor Belcher had been worsted in some wordy battle, alwaysdecorously conducted, but always persistent, but these minorinfelicities did not affect the main purposes of life, and thesettlement grew in spite of them; perhaps even, because of them, free speech being, as yet, the privilege of all, though as theanswering became in time a little too free, means were taken toinsure more discretion. 

In the meantime Cambridge grew, and suddenly arose a complaint, which to the modern mind is preposterous. "Want of room" was thecry of every citizen and possibly with justice, as the town hadbeen set within fixed limits and had nearly doubled in sizethrough the addition in August, 1632, of the congregation of theRev. Thomas Hooker at Chelmsford in the county of Essex, England, who had fallen under Laud's displeasure, and escaped withdifficulty, being pursued by the officers of the High Commissionfrom one county to another, and barely eluding them when he tookship for New England. 

One would have thought the wilderness at their doors affordedsense of room enough, and that numbers would have been a welcomechange, but the complaint was serious enough to warrant theirsending out men to Ipswich with a view of settling there. Then fora time the question dropped, much to the satisfaction, no doubt, of Mistress Dudley and her daughter, to whom in 1633, or '34, thedate being uncertain, came her first child, the son Samuel, whograduated at Harvard College in 1653, and of whom she wrote longafter in the little diary of "Religious Experiences":

"It pleased God to keep me a long time without a child, which wasa great greif to me, and cost mee many prayers and tears before Iobtained one, and after him gave mee many more of whom I now takethe care. "

Cambridge still insisting that it had not room enough, the townwas enlarged, but having accomplished this, both Dudley andBradstreet left it for Ipswich, the first suggestion of which hadbeen made in January, 1632, when news came to them that "theFrench had bought the Scottish plantation near Cape Sable, andthat the fort and all the amunition were delivered to them, andthat the cardinal, having the managing thereof, had sent manycompanies already, and preparation was made to send many more thenext year, and divers priests and Jesuits among them---called theassistants to Boston, and the ministers and captains, and someother chief men, to advise what was fit to be done for our safety, in regard the French were like to prove ill neighbors, (beingPapists). "

Another change was in store for the patient women who followed thepath laid open before them, with no thought of opposition, desiring only "room for such life as should in the ende returnthem heaven for an home that passeth not away, " and with therecord in Winthrop's journal, came the familiar discussion as tomethods, and the decision which speedily followed. 

Dudley and Bradstreet as "assistants" both had voice in theconclusions of the meeting, the record of which has just beengiven, though with no idea, probably, at that time, that their ownmovements would be affected. It was settled at once that "aplantation and a fort should be begun at Natascott, partly to besome block in an enemy's way (though it could not bar hisentrance), and especially to prevent an enemy from taking thatpassage from us. . . . Also, that a plantation be begun at Agawam(being the best place in the land for tillage and cattle), leastan enemy, finding it void should possess and take it from us. Thegovernor's son (being one of the assistants) was to undertakethis, and to take no more out of the bay than twelve men; the restto be supplied, at the coming of the next ships. "

That they were not essential to Cambridge, but absolutely so atthis weak point was plain to both Dudley and Bradstreet, whoforthwith made ready for the change accomplished in 1634, when atleast one other child, Dorothy, had come to Anne Bradstreet. Health, always delicate and always fluctuating, was affected moreseriously than usual at this time, no date being given, but theperiod extending over several years, "After some time, I fell intoa lingering sickness like a consumption, together with a lameness, which correction I saw the Lord sent to humble and try me and dome Good: and it was not altogether ineffectual. "

Patient soul! There were better days coming, but, self-distrustwas, after her affections, her strongest point, and there is smallhint of inward poise or calmness till years had passed, though shefaced each change with the quiet dauntlessness that was part ofher birthright. But the tragedy of their early days in the colonystill shadowed her. Evidently no natural voice was allowed tospeak in her, and the first poem of which we have record is asdestitude of any poetic flavor, as if designed for the Bay Psalm-book. As the first, however, it demands place, if only to showfrom what she afterward escaped. That she preserved it simply as arecord of a mental state, is evident from the fact, that it wasnever included in any edition of her poems, it having been foundamong her papers after her death. 

 UPON A FIT OF SICKNESS, _Anno_. 1632. _Aetatis suce_, 19. 

 Twice ten years old not fully told since nature gave me breath, My race is run, my thread is spun, lo! here is fatal Death. All men must dye, and so must I, this cannot be revoked, For Adam's sake, this word God spake, when he so high provoke'd. Yet live I shall, this life's but small, in place of highest bliss, Where I shall have all I can crave, no life is like to this. For what's this life but care and strife? since first we came from womb, Our strength doth waste, our time doth hast and then we go to th' Tomb. O Bubble blast, how long can'st last? that always art a breaking, No sooner blown, but dead and gone ev'n as a word that's speaking, O whil'st I live this grace me give, I doing good may be, Then death's arrest I shall count best because it's thy degree. Bestow much cost, there's nothing lost to make Salvation sure, O great's the gain, though got with pain, comes by profession pure. The race is run, the field is won, the victory's mine, I see, For ever know thou envious foe the foyle belongs to thee. 

This is simply very pious and unexceptionable doggerel and no onewould admit such fact more quickly than Mistress Anne herself, wholaid it away in after days in her drawer, with a smile at themetre and a sigh for the miserable time it chronicled. There weremany of them, for among the same papers is a shorter burst oftrouble:

 UPON SOME DISTEMPER OF BODY. 

 In anguish of my heart repleat with woes, And wasting pains, which best my body knows, In tossing slumbers on my wakeful bed, Bedrencht with tears that flow from mournful head, Till nature had exhausted all her store, Then eyes lay dry disabled to weep more; And looking up unto his Throne on high, Who sendeth help to those in misery; He chas'd away those clouds and let me see, My Anchor cast i' th' vale with safety, He eas'd my soul of woe, my flesh of pain, And brought me to the shore from troubled Main. 

The same brooding and saddened spirit is found in some verses ofthe same period and written probably just before the birth of herthird child, the latter part containing a touch of jealousapprehension that has been the portion of many a young mother, andthat indicates more of human passion than could be inferred fromanything in her first attempt at verse. 

 All things within this fading world hath end, Adversity doth still our joys attend; No tyes so strong, no friends so dear and sweet But with death's parting blow is sure to meet. The sentence past is most irrevocable A common thing, yet oh, inevitable; How soon, my Dear, death may my steps attend, How soon 't may be thy Lot to lose thy friend! We both are ignorant, yet love bids me These farewell lines to recommend to thee, That when that knot's untyed that made us one, I may seem thine, who in effect am none. And if I see not half my dayes that's due, What nature would, God grant to yours and you; The many faults that well you know I have, Let be interred in my oblivious grave; If any worth or virtue were in me, Let that live freshly in thy memory, And when thou feel'st no grief as I no harms, Yet love thy dead, who long lay in thine arms: And when thy loss shall be repaid with gains Look to my little babes my dear remains, And if thou love thyself, or loved'st me, These O protect from step-Dames injury. And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse, With some sad sighs honor my absent Herse; And kiss this paper for thy love's dear sake Who with salt tears this last farewell did take. --_A. B. _

CHAPTER V. 

OLD FRIENDS AND NEW. 

In spite of the fits of depression evident in most of thequotations thus far given, there were many alleviations, as lifesettled into more tolerable conditions, and one chief one was nowvery near. Probably no event in the first years of AnneBradstreet's life in the little colony had as much significancefor her as the arrival at Boston in 1633, of the Rev. John Cotton, her father's friend, and one of the strongest influences in thelives of both English and American Puritans. She was still livingin Cambridge and very probably made one of the party who went infrom there to hear his first sermon before the Boston church. Hehad escaped from England with the utmost difficulty, the time offreedom allowed him by King James who admired his learning, havingended so thoroughly that he was hunted like an escaped convict. Fearless and almost reckless, the Colonial ministers wondered athis boldness, a brother of Nathaniel Ward saying as he and somefriends "spake merrily" together: "Of all men in the world, I envyMr. Cotton of Boston, most; for he doth nothing in way ofconformity, and yet hath his liberty, and I do everything in thatway and cannot enjoy mine. "

The child born on the stormy passage over, and who in good timebecame Anne Bradstreet's son-in-law, marrying her daughter Dorothyin 1654, appeared with the father and mother at the first publicservice after his arrival, and before it was positively decidedthat he should remain in Boston. The baptism, contrary to theusual custom of having it take place, not later than ten daysafter birth, had been delayed, and Winthrop gives a characteristicpicture of the scene: "The Lord's day following, he (Mr. Cotton)exercised in the afternoon, and being to be admitted, he signifiedhis desire and readiness to make his confession according toorder, which he said might be sufficient in declaring his faithabout baptism (which he then desired for their child, born intheir passage, and therefore named Seaborn). He gave two reasonswhy he did not baptize it at sea (not for want of fresh water, forhe held sea-water would have served): 1st, because they had nosettled congregation there; 2d, because a minister hath no powerto give the seals, but in his own congregation. "

Some slight question, as to whether Boston alone, or the colony atlarge should be taxed for his support was settled with littledifficulty, and on Sept. 10, another gathering from all theneighboring towns, witnessed his induction into the new church aceremony of peculiar solemnity, preceded by a fast, and followedby such feasting as the still narrow stores of the peopleadmitted. 

No one can estimate the importance of this occasion, who does notrealize what a minister meant in those first days, when the sermonheld for the majority the sole opportunity of intellectualstimulus as well as spiritual growth. The coming of John Cotton toBoston, was much as if Phillips Brooks should bestow himself uponthe remotest English settlement in Australia, or a missionarystation in northern Minnesota, and a ripple of excitement ranthrough the whole community. It meant keener political as well asreligious life, for the two went side by side. Mather wrote laterof New England: "It is a country whose interests were mostremarkably and generally enwrapped in its ecclesiasticalcircumstances, " and he added: "The gospel has evidently been themaking of our towns. "

It was the deacons and elders who ruled public affairs, alwaysunder direction of well-nigh supreme authority vested in theminister. There was reason for such faith in them. "The objects ofmuch public deference were not unaware of their authority; theyseldom abused it; they never forgot it. If ever men, for realworth and greatness, deserved such pre-eminence, they did; theyhad wisdom, great learning, great force of will, devoutconsecration, philanthropy, purity of life. For once in thehistory of the world, the sovereign places were filled by thesovereign men. They bore themselves with the air of leaderships;they had the port of philosophers, noblemen and kings. Thewritings of our earliest times are full of reference to themajesty of their looks, the awe inspired by their presence, thegrandeur and power of their words. "

New England surely owes something of her gift of "ready andcommanding speech, " to these early talkers, who put their wholeintellectual force into a sermon, and who thought nothing of aprayer lasting for two hours and a sermon for three or even four. Nathaniel Ward, whose caustic wit spared neither himself nor themost reverend among his brethren, wrote in his "Simple Cobbler":"We have a strong weakness in New England, that when we arespeaking, we know not how to conclude. We make many ends, beforewe make an end. . . . We cannot help it, though we can; which is thearch infirmity in all morality. We are so near the west pole, thatour longitudes are as long as any wise man would wish and somewhatlonger. I scarce know any adage more grateful than '_Gratabrevitas_'. "

Mr. Cotton was no exception to this rule, but his hearers wouldnot have had him shorter. It was, however, the personality of theman that carried weight and nothing that he has left for a mockinggeneration to wonder over gives slightest hint of reason for thespell he cast over congregations, under the cathedral towers, orin the simple meeting house in the new Boston. The one man alive, who, perhaps, has gone through his works conscientiously andhopefully, Moses Coit Tyler, writes of John Cotton's works: "Theseare indeed clear and cogent in reasoning; the language is wellenough, but that is all. There are almost no remarkable merits inthought or style. One wanders through these vast tracts andjungles of Puritanic discourse--exposition, exhortation, logic-chopping, theological hair-splitting--and is unrewarded by asingle passage of eminent force or beauty, uncheered even by thefelicity of a new epithet in the objurgation of sinners, or a newtint in the landscape-painting of hell. "

Hubbard wrote, while he still lived: "Mr. Cotton had such aninsinuating and melting way in his preaching, that he wouldusually carry his very adversary captive, after the triumphantchariot of his rhetoric, " but "the chariot of his rhetoric ceasedto be triumphant when the master himself ceased to drive it, " andwe shall never know the spell of his genius. For one who had shownhimself so uncompromising in action where his own beliefs wereconcerned, he was singularly gentle and humble. Followed from hischurch one day, by a specially sour and peevish fanatic, whoannounced to him with a frown that his ministry had become darkand flat, he replied:

"Both, brother--it may be both; let me have your prayers that itmay be otherwise. "

Such a nature would never revolt against the system of spiritualcross-questioning that belonged to every church, and it is easy tosee how his hold on his congregation was never lost, even at thestormiest episode in his New England career. 

The people flocked to hear him, and until the removal to Ipswich, there is no doubt that Anne Bradstreet and her husband met himoften, and that he had his share in confirming her faith andstimulating her thought. Dudley and he remained friends to theend, and conferred often on public as well as private matters, butthere are no family details save the record of the marriage inlater years, which united them all more closely, than even theircommon suffering had done. 

Health alone, or the want of it, gave sufficient reason for atleast a shadow of gloom, and there were others as substantial, forfresh changes were at hand, and various circumstances had broughther family under a general criticism against which Anne Bradstreetalways revolted. Minute personal criticism was the order of theday, considered an essential in holding one another in thestraight path, and the New England relish for petty detail mayhave had its origin in this religious gossip. As usual the firsttrouble would seem to have arisen from envy, though undoubtedlyits originator strenuously denied any such suspicion. The housesat Cambridge had gradually been made more and more comfortable, though even in the beginning, they were the rudest of structures, the roofs covered with thatch, the fire-places generally made ofrough stones and the chimneys of boards plastered with clay. Toshelter was the only requisite demanded, but Dudley, who desiredsomething more, had already come under public censure, thegovernor and other assistants joining in the reproach that "he didnot well to bestow such cost about wainscotting and adorning hishouse in the beginning of a plantation, both in regard to theexpense, and the example. "

This may have been one of the "new customs" at which poor Anne's"heart rose, for none of the company, not even excepting thegovernor, had come from as stately and well-ordered a home astheirs, the old castle still testifying to the love of beauty inits ancient owners. " Dudley's excuse was, however, accepted, "thatit was for the warmth of his house, and the charge was but little, being but clapboards nailed to the wall in the form of wainscot. "

The disagreement on this question of adornment was not the onlyreason why a removal to Ipswich, then known as Agawam, may haveseemed desirable. Dudley, who was some thirteen years older thanthe Governor, and whose capacity for free speech increased withevery year, had criticised sharply the former's unexpected removalto Boston, and placable as Winthrop always was, a little feelinghad arisen, which must have affected both families. The first openindication of Dudley's money-loving propensities had also beenmade a matter of discussion, and was given "in some bargains hehad made with some poor members of the same congregation, to whomhe had sold seven bushels and a half of corn, to receive ten forit after harvest, which the governor and some others held to beoppressing usury. "

Dudley contested the point hotly, the governor taking no "noticeof these speeches, and bore them with more patience than he haddone upon a like occasion at another time, " but the breach hadbeen made, and it was long before it ceased to trouble the friendsof both. With all his self-sacrifice, Dudley desired leadership, and the removal to Ipswich gave him more fully the position hecraved, as simply just acknowledgment of his services to theColony, than permanent home at Cambridge could have done. Objections were urged against the removal, and after longdiscussion waxing hotter and hotter Dudley resigned, in a mostPuritan fit of temper, leaving the council in a passion and"clapping the door behind him. " Better thoughts came to all. Thegentle temper of both wife and daughter quieted him, and disposedhim to look favorably upon the letter in which the council refusedto accept his resignation, and this was the last public occasionupon which such scandal arose. But Ipswich was a safe harbor, andlife there would hold fewer thorns than seemed sown in theCambridge surroundings, and we may feel sure, that in spite ofhardships, the long-suffering Anne and her mother welcomed thechange, when it had once been positively decided upon. 

The most serious objection arose from the more exposed situationof Ipswich and the fact that the Indians were becoming more andmore troublesome. The first year, however, passed in comparativequiet. A church was organized, sermons being the first necessitythought of for every plantation, and "Mr. Wilson, by leave of thecongregation of Boston whereof he was pastor, went to Agawam toteach the people of that plantation, because they had yet nominister, " to be succeeded shortly by Nathaniel Ward, a man ofmost intense nature and personality, who must have had markedeffect on every mind brought under his influence. A worker ofprodigious energy, he soon broke down, and after two years ofpastorship, left Ipswich to become a few years later, one of thecommission appointed to frame laws for the Colony and to writegradually one of the most distinctive books in early Americanliterature, "The Simple Cobbler of Agawam. " That he became thestrong personal friend of the Bradstreet family was natural, fornot only were they of the same social status, but sympathetic inmany points, though Simon Bradstreets' moderation and tolerantspirit undoubtedly fretted the uncompromising Puritan whoseopinions were as stiff and incisive as his way of putting them. Anextensive traveller, a man of ripe culture, having been asuccessful lawyer before the ministry attracted him, he was thefriend of Francis Bacon, of Archbishop Usher and the famousHeidelberg theologian, David Pareus. He had travelled widely andknew men and manners, and into the exhortations and expoundings ofhis daily life, the unfoldings of the complicated religiousexperience demanded of every Puritan, must have crept many areminiscence of old days, dear to the heart of Anne Bradstreet, who, no matter what theory she deemed it best to follow, was atheart, to the end of her life a monarchist. We may know with whatinterest she would listen, and may fancy the small Simon andDorothy standing near as Puritan discipline allowed, to hear talesof Prince Rupert, whom Nathaniel Ward had held as a baby in hisarms, and of whom he wrote what we may be sure he had often said:"I have had him in my arms; . . . I wish I had him there now. If Imistake not, he promised then to be a good prince; but I doubt hehath forgot it. If I thought he would not be angry with me, Iwould pray hard to his Maker to make him a right Roundhead, awise-hearted Palatine, a thankful man to the English; to forgiveall his sins, and at length to save his soul, notwithstanding allhis God-damn-me's. "

Even in these early days, certain feminine pomps and vanities hademigrated with their owners, and much disconcerted the energeticpreacher. Anne Bradstreet had no share in them, her gentlesimplicity making her always choose the least obtrusive form ofspeech and action, as well as dress, but she must have smiled overthe fierceness with which weaker sisters were attacked, andperhaps have sought to change the attitude of this chronic fault-finder; "a sincere, witty and valiant grumbler, " but always agrumbler, to whom the fashions of the time seemed an outrage oncommon sense. He devotes a separate section of his book to them, and the delinquencies of women in general because they were"deficients or redundants not to be brought under any rule, " andtherefore not entitled to "pester better matter with such stuff, "and then announces that he proposes, "for this once to borrow alittle of their loose-tongued liberty, and mis-spend a word or twoupon their long-waisted but short-skirted patience. " "I honor thewoman that can honor herself with her attire, " he goes on, hiswrath rising as he writes; "a good text always deserves a fairmargent, but as for a woman who lives but to ape the newest court-fashions, I look at her as the very gizzard of a trifle, theproduct of a quarter of a cipher, the epitome of nothing; fitterto be kicked, if she were of a kickable substance, than eitherhonored or humored. To speak moderately, I truly confess, it isbeyond the ken of my understanding to conceive how those womenshould have any true grace or valuable virtue, that have so littlewit as to disfigure themselves with such exotic garbs, as not onlydismantles their native, lovely lustre, but transclouts them intogaunt bar-geese, ill-shapen, shotten shell-fish, Egyptianhieroglyphics, or at the best into French flirts of the pastry, which a proper English woman should scorn with her heels. It is nomarvel they wear trails on the hinder part of their heads; havingnothing it seems in the forepart but a few squirrels' brains tohelp them frisk from one ill-favored fashion to another. . . . Wehave about five or six of them in our colony; if I see any of themaccidentally, I cannot cleanse my fancy for a month after. . . . Ifany man think I have spoken rather merrily than seriously, he ismuch mistaken; I have written what I write, with all theindignation I can, and no more than I ought. "

Let it be remembered, that these ladies with "squirrels brains, "are the "grandmothers" whose degenerate descendants we are dailyaccused of being. It is an old tune, but the generations havedanced to it since the world began, each with a profoundconviction of its newness, and their own success in following itslead. Nor was he alone in his indignation, for even in the midstof discussions on ordnance, and deep perplexities over unrulysettlers, the grave elders paused, and as Winthrop records:

"At the lecture in Boston a question was propounded about veils. Mr. Cotton concluded, that where (by the custom of the place) theywere not a sign of the woman's subjection, they were not commandedby the apostle. Mr. Endecott opposed, and did maintain it by thegeneral arguments brought by the apostle. After some debate, thegovernor, perceiving it to grow to some earnestness, interposed, and so it brake off. " Isaiah had protested, before Nathaniel Wardor the Council echoed him, but if this is the attitude the sturdypreacher held toward the women of his congregation, he must havefound it well to resign his place to his successor, also aNathaniel, Nathaniel Rogers, one of the row of "nine smallchildren, " still to be seen in the New England Primer, gazing uponthe martyr, John Rogers, the famous preacher of Dedham, whosegifts of mind and soul made him a shining mark for persecution, and whose name is still honored in his descendants. 

Of less aggressive and incisive nature than Nathaniel Ward, he wasa man of profound learning, his son and grandson succeeding him atIpswich, and the son, who had accompanied him from Englandbecoming the President of Harvard College. His sympathy with SimonBradstreet's moderate and tolerant views, at once brought themtogether, and undoubtedly made him occasionally a thorn in theside of Governor Dudley, who felt then, precisely the sameemotions as in later life were chronicled in his one attempt atverse:

 "Let men of God in Courts and Churches watch, O'er such as do a Toleration hatch, Lest that ill egg bring forth a cockatrice To poison all with Heresie and Vice. "

Nathaniel Rogers has left no written memorial save a tract in theinterest of this most objectionable toleration, in which, whilefavoring liberty and reformation, he censured those who hadbrought false charges against the king, and as a result, wasaccused of being one of the king's agents in New England. AnneBradstreet's sympathies were even more strongly with him thanthose of her husband, and in the quiet listening to the argumentswhich went on, she had rarest opportunity for that gradualaccumulation of real worldly wisdom to be found in many of her"Reflections" in prose. 

At present there was more room for apprehension than reflection. Indian difficulties were more and more pressing, and in Sept. , 1635, the General Court had included Ipswich in the order that nodwelling-house should be more than half a mile from the meeting-house, it being impossible to guard against the danger of comingand going over longer space. The spring of 1636-7 brought stillmore stringent care. Watches were kept and no one allowed totravel without arms. The Pequot war was the culmination for thetime, the seed of other and more atrocious conflicts to come, andwhatever the judgment of to-day may be on the causes which broughtsuch results, the terror of the settlers was a very real and well-grounded fact. As with Deerfield at a later date, they wereprotected from Indian assaults, only by "a rude picketted fort. Sentinels kept guard every night; even in the day time, no oneleft his door-steps without a musket; and neighborly communicationbetween the houses was kept up principally by underground passagesfrom cellar to cellar. "

Mr. Daniel Dennison, who had married Anne Bradstreet's sister, waschosen captain for Ipswich and remained so for many years. As theIndians were driven out, they concentrated in and about NewHampshire, which, being a frontier colony, knew no rest from perilday and night, but it was many years before any Massachusettssettler dared move about with freedom, and the perpetualapprehension of every woman who dreaded the horrible possibilitiesof Indian outrage, must have gone far toward intensifying andgrinding in the morbid sensitiveness which even to-day is part ofthe genuine New England woman's character. The grim details ofexpeditions against them were known to every child. The sameimpatience of any word in their favor was shown then, as we findit now in the far West, where their treachery and barbarity isstill a part of the story of to-day, and Johnson, in his "Wonder-Working Providence, " gives one or two almost incredible details ofwarfare against them with a Davidic exultation over the downfallof so pestilent an enemy, that is more Gothic than Christian. 

"The Lord in mercy toward his poor churches, having thus destroyedthese bloody, barbarous Indians, he returns his people in safetyto their vessels, where they take account of their prisoners. Thesquaws and some young youths they brought home with them; andfinding the men to be deeply guilty of the crimes they undertookthe war for, they brought away only their heads. "

Such retribution seemed just and right, but its effect on Puritancharacter was hardly softening, and was another unconscious factorin that increasing ratio of hatred against all who opposed them, whether in religious belief, or in the general administration ofaffairs. In these affairs every woman was interested to a degreethat has had no parallel since, unless it may be, on the Southernside during our civil war. Politics and religion were one, andremoval to Ipswich had not deadened the interest with which theywatched and commented on every fluctuation in the stormy situationat "home, " as they still called England, Cotton taking active partin all discussions as to Colonial action. 

It was at this period that she wrote the poem, "A Dialogue betweenOld England and New, " which holds the political situation at thattime. Many of the allusions in the first edition, were altered inthe second, for as Charles II. Had then begun his reign, loyaltywas a necessity, and no strictures upon kings could be allowed. The poem, which is rather a summary of political difficulties, hasits own interest, as showing how thoroughly she had caught thespirit of the time, as well as from the fact that it was quoted asauthority by the wisest thinkers of the day, and regarded with anawe and admiration we are hardly likely to share, as thephenomenal work of a phenomenal woman. 

 A DIALOGUE BETWEEN OLD ENGLAND AND NEW, CONCERNING THEIR PRESENT TROUBLES. _Anno_, 1642. 

 _NEW ENGLAND_. 

 Alas, dear Mother, fairest Queen and best, With honour, wealth and peace happy and blest; What ails thee hang thy head and cross thine arms? And sit i' th' dust, to sigh these sad alarms? What deluge of new woes thus overwhelme The glories of thy ever famous Realme? What means this wailing tone, this mournful guise? Ah, tell thy daughter, she may sympathize. 

 _OLD ENGLAND. _

 Art ignorant indeed of these my woes? Or must my forced tongue my griefs disclose? And must myself dissect my tatter'd state, Which mazed Christendome stands wond'ring at? And thou a child, a Limbe, and dost not feel My fainting weakened body now to reel? This Physick purging portion I have taken, Will bring Consumption, or an Ague quaking, Unless some Cordial, thou fetch from high, Which present help may ease my malady. If I decease, dost think thou shalt survive? Or by my wasting state dost think to thrive? Then weigh our case, if't be not justly sad; Let me lament alone, while thou art glad. 

 _NEW ENGLAND. _

 And thus (alas) your state you much deplore, In general terms, but will not say wherefore; What medicine shall I seek to cure this woe If th' wound so dangerous I may not know? But you, perhaps, would have me ghess it out, What hath some Hengist like that Saxon stout, By fraud or force usurp'd thy flow'ring crown, Or by tempestuous warrs thy fields trod down? Or hath Canutus, that brave valiant Dane, The Regal peacefull Scepter from the tane? Or is't a Norman, whose victorious hand With English blood bedews thy conquered land? Or is't Intestine warrs that thus offend? Do Maud and Stephen for the crown contend? Do Barons rise and side against their King, And call in foreign aid to help the thing? Must Edward be deposed? or is't the hour That second Richard must be clapt i' th' tower? Or is't the fatal jarre again begun That from the red white pricking roses sprung? Must Richmond's aid, the Nobles now implore, To come and break the Tushes of the Boar? If none of these, dear Mother, what's your woe? Pray do you fear Spain's bragging Armado? Doth your Allye, fair France, conspire your wrack, Or do the Scots play false behind your back? Doth Holland quit you ill for all your love? Whence is the storm from Earth or Heaven above? Is't drought, is't famine, or is't pestilence, Dost feel the smart or fear the Consequence? Your humble Child intreats you, shew your grief, Though Arms nor Purse she hath for your relief, Such is her poverty; yet shall be found A Suppliant for your help, as she is bound. 

 _OLD ENGLAND. _

 I must confess, some of those sores you name, My beauteous body at this present maime; But forreign foe, nor feigned friend I fear, For they have work enough, (thou knowst) elsewhere. Nor is it Alce's Son nor Henrye's daughter, Whose proud contention cause this slaughter; Nor Nobles siding to make John no King, French Jews unjustly to the Crown to bring; No Edward, Richard, to lose rule and life, Nor no Lancastrians to renew old strife; No Duke of York nor Earl of March to soyle Their hands in kindred's blood whom they did foil. No crafty Tyrant now usurps the Seat, Who Nephews slew that so he might be great; No need of Tudor Roses to unite, None knows which is the Red or which the White; Spain's braving Fleet a second time is sunk, France knows how oft my fury she hath drunk; By Edward third, and Henry fifth of fame Her Lillies in mine Arms avouch the same, My sister Scotland hurts me now no more, Though she hath been injurious heretofore; What Holland is I am in some suspence, But trust not much unto his excellence. For wants, sure some I feel, but more I fear, And for the Pestilence, who knows how near Famine and Plague, two Sisters of the Sword, Destruction to a Land doth soon afford. They're for my punishment ordain'd on high, Unless our tears prevent it speedily. 

 But yet I answer not what you demand To shew the grievance of my troubled Land? Before I tell the Effect I'le shew the Cause, Which are my sins, the breach of sacred Laws, Idolatry, supplanter of a nation, With foolish Superstitious Adoration, Are liked and countenanced by men of might The gospel trodden down and hath no right; Church offices were sold and bought for gain, That Pope had hoped to find Rome here again; For Oaths and Blasphemies did ever Ear From Belzebub himself such language hear? What scorning of the saints of the most high, What injuries did daily on them lye, What false reports, what nick-names did they take Not for their own but for their Master's sake?

 And thou, poor soul, wert jeer'd among the rest, Thy flying for the truth was made a jest For Sabbath-breaking, and for drunkenness, Did ever loud profaneness more express? From crying blood yet cleansed am not I, Martyrs and others, dying causelessly. How many princely heads on blocks laid down For nought but title to a fading crown! 'Mongst all the crueltyes by great ones done, Of Edward's youths, and Clarence hapless son, O Jane, why didst thou dye in flow'ring prime? Because of royal stem, that was thy crime. For bribery, Adultery and lyes, Where is the nation I can't parallize? With usury, extortion and oppression, These be the Hydraes of my stout transgression. These be the bitter fountains, heads and roots, Whence flowed the source, the sprigs, the boughs, and fruits, Of more than thou canst hear or I relate, That with high hand I still did perpetrate; For these were threatened the woful day I mockt the Preachers, put it far away; The Sermons yet upon Record do stand That cri'd destruction to my wicked land; I then believed not, now I feel and see, The plague of stubborn incredulity. 

 Some lost their livings, some in prison pent, Some fin'd from house and friends to exile went. Their silent tongues to heaven did vengeance cry, Who saw their wrongs, and hath judg'd righteously, And will repay it seven fold in my lap; This is forerunner of my After clap. Nor took I warning by my neighbors' falls, I saw sad Germany's dismantled walls, I saw her people famish'd, nobles slain, The fruitful land a barren Heath remain. I saw immov'd her Armyes foil'd and fled, Wives forc'd, babes toss'd, her houses calimed. I saw strong Rochel yielded to her Foe, Thousands of starved Christians there also I saw poor Ireland bleeding out her last, Such crueltyes as all reports have passed; Mine heart obdurate stood not yet aghast. Now sip I of that cup, and just't may be The bottome dreggs reserved are for me. 

 NEW ENGLAND. 

 To all you've said, sad Mother, I assent, Your fearful sins great cause there's to lament, My guilty hands in part, hold up with you, A Sharer in your punishment's my due. But all you say amounts to this affect, Not what you feel but what you do expect, Pray in plain terms what is your present grief? Then let's joyn heads and hearts for your relief. 

 OLD ENGLAND. 

 Well to the matter then, there's grown of late 'Twixt King and Peers a Question of State, Which is the chief, the law or else the King. One said, it's he, the other no such thing. 'Tis said, my beter part in Parliament To ease my groaning land, shew'd their intent, To crush the proud, and right to each man deal, To help the Church, and stay the Common-weal So many obstacles came in their way, As puts me to a stand what I should say; Old customes, new prerogatives stood on, Had they not held Law fast, all had been gone; Which by their prudence stood them in such stead They took high Strafford lower by the head. And to their Land be't spoke, they held i' th' tower All England's Metropolitane that hour; This done, an act they would have passed fain No Prelate should his Bishoprick retain; Here tugged they hard (indeed), for all men saw This must be done by Gospel, not by law. Next the Militia they urged sore, This was deny'd (I need not say wherefore), The King displeas'd at York himself absents, They humbly beg return, shew their intents; The writing, printing, posting too and fro, Shews all was done, I'll therefore let it go;

 But now I come to speak of my disaster, Contention grown, 'twixt Subjects and their Master; They worded it so long, they fell to blows, That thousands lay on heaps, here bleeds my woes; I that no wars so many years have known, Am now destroy'd and slaughter'd by mine own; But could the Field alone this strife decide, One Battle two or three I might abide. But these may be beginnings of more woe Who knows but this may be my overthrow? Oh, pity me in this sad Perturbation, My plundered Towns, my houses devastation, My weeping Virgins and my young men slain; My wealthy trading fall'n, my dearth of grain, The seed times come, but ploughman hath no hope Because he knows not who shall inn his Crop! The poor they want their pay, their Children bread, Their woful--Mothers' tears unpittied. If any pity in thy heart remain, Or any child-like love thou dost retain, For my relief, do what there lyes in thee, And recompence that good I've done to thee. 

 NEW ENGLAND. 

 Dear Mother, cease complaints and wipe your eyes, Shake off your dust, chear up and now arise, You are my Mother Nurse, and I your flesh, Your sunken bowels gladly would refresh, Your griefs I pity, but soon hope to see, Out of your troubles much good fruit to be; To see those latter days of hop'd for good, Though now beclouded all with tears and blood; After dark Popery the day did clear, But now the Sun in's brightness shall appear; Blest be the Nobles of thy Noble Land, With ventur'd lives for Truth's defence that stand; Blest be thy Commons, who for common good, And thy infringed Laws have boldly stood; Blest be thy Counties, who did aid thee still, With hearts and States to testifie their will; Blest be thy Preachers, who did chear thee on, O cry the Sword of God and Gideon; And shall I not on them with Mero's curse, That help thee not with prayers, Arms and purse? And for myself let miseries abound, If mindless of thy State I ere be found. These are the dayes the Churches foes to crush, To root out Popelings, head, tail, branch and rush; Let's bring Baals' vestments forth to make a fire, Their Mytires, Surplices, and all their Tire, Copes, Rotchets, Crossiers, and such empty trash, And let their Names consume, but let the flash Light Christendome, and all the world to see, We hate Romes whore, with all her trumpery. 

 Go on, brave Essex, with a Loyal heart, Not false to King, nor to the better part; But those that hurt his people and his Crown, As duty binds, expel and tread them down, And ye brave Nobles, chase away all fear, And to this hopeful Cause closely adhere; O Mother, can you weep and have such Peers, When they are gone, then drown yourself in tears, If now you weep so much, that then no more The briny Ocean will o'erflow your shore. These, these are they I trust, with Charles our King, Out of all mists, such glorious days shall bring; That dazzled eyes beholding much shall wonder, At that thy settled peace, thy wealth and splendor. Thy Church and weal establish'd in such manner, That all shall joy, that then display'st thy Banner; And discipline erected so I trust, That nursing Kings shall come and lick thy dust. 

 Then justice shall in all thy courts take place, Without respect of person, or of case; Then Bribes shall cease, and Suits shall not stick long Patience and purse of Clients oft to wrong; Then high Commissions shall fall to decay, And Pursivants and Catchpoles want their pay. So shall thy happy nation ever flourish, When truth and righteousness they thus shall nourish, When thus in peace, thine Armies brave send out, To sack proud Rome, and all her Vassals rout; There let thy name, thy fame and glory shine, As did thine Ancestors in Palestine; And let her spoyls full pay with Interest be, Of what unjustly once she poll'd from thee, Of all the woes thou canst, let her be sped And on her pour the vengeance threatened; Bring forth the Beast that rul'd the World with 's beck, And tear his flesh, and set your feet on 's neck; And make his filthy Den so desolate, To th' astonishment of all that knew his state. This done, with brandish'd Swords to Turky goe, For then what is 't, but English blades dare do? And lay her waste for so 's the sacred Doom, And to Gog as thou hast done to Rome. Oh Abraham's seed lift up your heads on high, For sure the day of your Redemption 's nigh; The Scales shall fall from your long blinded eyes, And him you shall adore who now despise, Then fulness of the Nations in shall flow, And Jew and Gentile to one worship go; Then follows days of happiness and rest; Whose lot doth fall, to live therein is blest. No Canaanite shall then be found i' th' Land, And holiness on horses bell's shall stand; If this make way thereto, then sigh no more, But if it all, thou did'st not see 't before; Farewell, dear Mother, rightest cause prevail And in a while, you'll tell another tale. 

This, like all her earlier work, is heavy reading, the accountgiven by "Old Age" in her "Four Ages of Man, " of what he has seenand known of Puritan affairs, being in somewhat more livelystrain. But lively was an adjective to which Mistress Anne had arooted objection. Her contemporaries indulged in an occasionalsolemn pun, but the only one in her writings is found in the grimturn on Laud's name, in the "Dialogue" just quoted, in which isalso a sombre jest on the beheading of Strafford. 

"Old Age" recalls the same period, opening with a faint--veryfaint--suggestion of Shakespeare's thought in his "Seven Ages. "

 "What you have been, even such have I before And all you say, say I, and somewhat more, Babe's innocence, youth's wildness I have seen, And in perplexed middle Age have been; Sickness, dangers and anxieties have past, And on this stage am come to act my last, I have been young and strong and wise as you; But now _Bis pueri senes, _ is too true. In every age I've found much vanity An end of all perfection now I see. It's not my valour, honor, nor my gold, My ruined house now falling can uphold, It's not my learning Rhetorick wit so large, Hath now the power, death's warfare to discharge, It's not my goodly state, nor bed of downs That can refresh, or ease, if Conscience frown, Nor from Alliance can I now have hope, But what I have done well that is my prop; He that in youth is Godly, wise and sage, Provides a staff then to support his Age. Mutations great, some joyful and some sad, In this short pilgrimage I oft have had; Sometimes the Heavens with plenty smiled on me, Sometime again rain'd all Adversity, Sometimes in honor, sometimes in disgrace, Sometime an Abject, then again in place. Such private changes oft mine eyes have seen, In various times of state I've also been, I've seen a Kingdom nourish like a tree, When it was ruled by that Celestial she; And like a Cedar, others so surmount, That but for shrubs they did themselves account. Then saw I France and Holland say'd Cales won, And Philip and Albertus half undone, I saw all peace at home, terror to foes, But oh, I saw at last those eyes to close. And then methought the clay at noon grew dark, When it had lost that radiant Sunlike Spark; In midst of griefs I saw our hopes revive, (For 'twas our hopes then kept our hearts alive) We changed our queen for king under whose rayes We joy'd in many blest and prosperous dayes. I've seen a Prince, the glory of our land In prime of youth seiz'd by heaven's angry hand, Which fil'd our hearts with fears, with tears our eyes, Wailing his fate, and our own destinies. I've seen from Rome an execrable thing, A Plot to blow up nobles and their King, But saw their horrid fact soon disappointed, And Land Nobles say'd with their annointed. I've Princes seen to live on others' lands; A royal one by gifts from strangers' hands Admired for their magnanimity, Who lost a Prince-dome and a Monarchy. I've seen designs for Ree and Rochel crost, And poor Palatinate forever lost. I've seen unworthy men advanced high, And better ones suffer extremity; But neither favour, riches, title, State, Could length their days or once reverse their fate. 

 I've seen one stab'd, and some to loose their heads, And others fly, struck both with gilt and dread; I've seen and so have you, for tis but late The desolation of a goodly state, Plotted and acted so that none can tell Who gave the counsel, but the Prince of hell. Three hundred thousand slaughtered innocents By bloody, Popish, hellish miscreants; Oh, may you live, and so you will I trust, To see them swill in blood until they burst. 

 I've seen a King by force thrust from his thrones And an Usurper subt'ly mount thereon; I've seen a state unmoulded, rent in twain, But ye may live to see't made up again. I've seen it plunder'd, taxt and soaked in blood, But out of evill you may see much good. What are my thoughts, this is no time to say. Men may more freely speak another day; These are no old-wives tales, but this is truth, We old men love to tell what's done in youth. "

Though this is little more than rhymed chronology, there arecurious reminders here and there of the spirit of the time. Gentleas was Anne Bradstreet's nature, it seemed to her quite natural towrite of the "bloody, Popish, hellish miscreants"--

 "Oh may you live, and so you will I trust, To see them swill in blood untill they burst. "

There was reason it was true; the same reason that brings the samethought to-day to women on the far Western frontiers, for theIrish butcheries had been as atrocious as any Indian massacre ourown story holds. The numbers butchered were something appaling, and Hume writes: "By some computations, those who perished by allthese cruelties are supposed to be a hundred and fifty or twohundred thousand; by the most moderate, and probably the mostreasonable account, they are made to amount to forty thousand---ifthis estimation itself be not, as is usual in such cases, somewhatexaggerated. "

Irish ferocity was more than matched by English brutality. Puritanism softened many features of the Saxon character, but evenin the lives of the most devoted, there is a keen relish forbattle whether spiritual or actual, and a stern rejoicing in anydepth of evil that may have overtaken a foe. In spite of thetremendous value set upon souls, indifference to human life stillruled, and there was even a certain relish, if that life were anenemy's, in turning it over heartily and speedily to its properowner, Satan. Anne Bradstreet is no exception to the rule, and herverses hold various fierce and unexpected outbursts againstenemies of her faith or country. The constant discussion of mootedpoints by the ministers as well as people, made each man the judgeof questions that agitated every mind, and problems of all naturesfrom national down to town meeting debates, were pondered over inevery Puritan home. Cotton's interest in detail never flagged, andhis influence was felt at every point in the Colony, and thoughIpswich, both in time and facilities for reaching it, was morewidely separated from Boston than Boston now is from the remotesthamlet on Cape Cod, there is no doubt that Nathaniel Ward and Mr. Cotton occasionally met and exchanged views if not pulpits, andthat the Bradstreet family were not entirely cut off fromintercourse. When Nathaniel Ward became law-maker instead ofsettled minister, it was with John Cotton that he took counsel, and Anne undoubtedly thought of the latter what his grandsonCotton Mather at a later day wrote. "He was indeed a mostuniversal scholar, and a living system of the liberal arts and awalking library. "

Walking libraries were needed, for stationary ones were verylimited. Governer Dudley's, one of the largest in the Colony, contained between fifty and sixty books, chiefly on divinity andhistory, and from the latter source Anne obtained the minutehistorical knowledge shown in her rhymed account of "The FourMonarchies. " It was to her father that she owed her love of books. She calls him in one poem, "a magazine of history, " and at otherpoints, her "guide, " and "instructor, " writing:

 "Most truly honored and as truly dear, If worth in me, or ought I do appear, Who can of right better demand the same? Then may your worthy self from whom it came?"

As at Cambridge, and in far greater degree, she was cut off frommuch that had held resources there. At the worst, only a few mileshad separated them from what was fast becoming the center and soulof the Colony. But Ipswich shut them in, and life for bothMistress Dudley and her daughter was an anxious one. The GeneralCourt called for the presence of both Dudley and Bradstreet, thelatter spending much of his time away, and some of the tenderestand most natural of Anne Bradstreet's poems, was written at thistime, though regarded as too purely personal to find place in anyedition of her poems. The quiet but fervent love between them haddeepened with every year, and though no letters remain, as withWinthrop, to evidence the steady and intense affection of both, the "Letter to her Husband, absent upon some Publick employment, "holds all the proof one can desire. 

 "My head, my heart, mine Eyes, my life, my more, My joy, my Magazine of earthly store. If two be one as surely thou and I, How stayest thou there, whilst I at Ipswich lie? So many steps, head from the heart to sever, If but a neck, soon would we be together; I like the earth this season mourn in black My Sun is gone so far in 's Zodiack, Whom whilst I joyed, nor storms nor frosts I felt, His warmth such frigid colds did cause to melt. My chilled limbs now nummed lye forlorn, Return, return sweet Sol, from Capricorn; In this dead time, alas, what can I more Than view those fruits which through thy heat I bore? Which sweet contentment yield me for a space, True, living Pictures of their Father's face. O strange effect! now thou art Southward gone, I weary grow, the tedious day so long; But when thou Northward to me shalt return, I wish my Sun may never set but burn Within the Cancer of my glowing breast. The welcome house of him my dearest guest. Where ever, ever stay, and go not thence Till nature's sad decree shall call thee hence; Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone, I here, thou there, yet both are one. "

A second one is less natural in expression, but still holds thesame longing. 

 Phoebus, make haste, the day's too long, be gone, The silent nights, the fittest time for moan; But stay this once, unto my suit give ear, And tell my griefs in either Hemisphere. (And if the whirling of thy wheels don't drown'd) The woeful accents of my doleful sound, If in thy swift Carrier thou canst make stay, I crave this boon, this Errand by the way, Commend me to the man more lov'd than life, Shew him the sorrows of his widowed wife; My dumpish thoughts, my groans, my brakish tears, My sobs, my longing hopes, my doubting fears, And if he love, how can he there abide? My Interest's more than all the world beside. He that can tell the Starrs or Ocean sand, Or all the grass that in the Meads do stand, The leaves in th' woods, the hail or drops of rain, Or in a corn field number every grain, Or every mote that in the sunshine hops, May count my sighs, and number all my drops: Tell him, the countless steps that thou dost trace, That once a day, thy Spouse thou mayst embrace; And when thou canst not treat by loving mouth, Thy rays afar salute her from the south. But for one month I see no day (poor soul) Like those far scituate under the pole, Which day by day long wait for thy arise, O, how they joy, when thou dost light the skyes. O Phoebus, hadst thou but thus long from thine, Restrained the beams of thy beloved shine, At thy return, if so thou could'st or durst Behold a Chaos blacker than the first. Tell him here's worse than a confused matter, His little world's a fathom under water, Nought but the fervor of his ardent beams Hath power to dry the torrent of these streams Tell him I would say more but cannot well, Oppressed minds, abruptest tales do tell. Now post with double speed, mark what I says By all our loves, conjure him not to stay. "

In the third and last, there is simply an imitation of much of thework of the seventeenth century; with its conceits and twistedmeanings, its mannerisms and baldness, but still the feeling isthere, though Mistress Bradstreet has labored painfully to make itas unlike nature as possible. 

 "As loving Hind that (Hartless) wants her Deer, Scuds through the woods and Fern with hearkening ear, Perplext, in every bush and nook doth pry, Her dearest Deer might answer ear or eye; So doth my anxious soul, which now doth miss, A dearer Deer (far dearer Heart) than this. Still wait with doubts and hopes and failing eye; His voice to hear or person to descry. Or as the pensive Dove doth all alone (On withered bough) most uncouthly bemoan The absence of her Love and Loving Mate, Whose loss hath made her so unfortunate; Ev'n thus doe I, with many a deep sad groan, Bewail my turtle true, who now is gone, His presence and his safe return, still wooes With thousand doleful sighs and mournful Cooes. Or as the loving Mullet that true Fish, Her fellow lost, nor joy nor life do wish, But lanches on that shore there for to dye, Where she her captive husband doth espy, Mine being gone I lead a joyless life, I have a living sphere, yet seem no wife; But worst of all, to him can't steer my course, I here, he there, alas, both kept by force; Return, my Dear, my Joy, my only Love, Unto thy Hinde, thy Mullet and thy Dove, Who neither joys in pasture, house nor streams, The substance gone, O me, these are but dreams, Together at one Tree, O let us brouse, And like two Turtles roost within one house. And like the Mullets in one River glide, Let's still remain one till death divide. Thy loving Love and Dearest Dear, At home, abroad and everywhere. _A. B. _"

Of a far higher order are a few lines, written at the same time, and with no suspicion of straining or of imitation in the quietfervor of the words, that must have carried a thrill of deep andexquisite happiness to the heart of the man, so loved and honored. 

 _"To my dear and loving Husband:_ If ever two were one then surely we, If ever man were loved by wife, then thee; If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me ye women if you can. I prize thy love more than whole Mines of Gold, Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that Rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee give recompense. Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee, manifold I pray. Then while we live in love let's so persevere, That when we live no more, we may live ever. "

The woman who could feel such fervor as these lines express, owedthe world something more than she ever gave, but every influencetended, as we have seen, to silence natural expression. One mustseek, however, to discover why she failed even when admitting thatfailure was the only thing to be expected, and the causes are inthe nature of the time itself, the story of literary developmentfor that period being as complicated as politics, religion andevery other force working on the minds of men. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A THEOLOGICAL TRAGEDY. 

It was perhaps Anne Bradstreet's youth, and a sense that she couldhardly criticise a judgment which had required the united forcesof every church in the Colony to pronounce, that made her ignoreone of the most stormy experiences of those early days, the trialand banishment of Anne Hutchinson. Her silence is the moresingular, because the conflict was a purely spiritual one, andthus in her eyes deserving of record. There can be no doubt thatthe effect on her own spiritual and mental life must have beenintense and abiding. No children had as yet come to absorb herthoughts and energies, and the events which shook the Colony tothe very center could not fail to leave an ineffaceableimpression. No story of personal experience is more confounding tothe modern reader, and none holds a truer picture of the time. Governor Dudley and Simon Bradstreet were both concerned in thewhole course of the matter, which must have been discussed at homefrom day to day, and thus there is every reason for giving it fullplace in these pages as one of the formative forces in AnneBradstreet's life; an inspiration and then a warning. There arehints that Anne resented the limitations that hedged her in, andhad small love of the mutual criticism, which made the cornerstone of Puritan life. That she cared to write had already excitedthe wonder of her neighbors and Anne stoutly asserted her right tospeak freely whatever it seemed good to say, taking her standafterwards given in the Prologue to the first edition of herpoems, in which she wrote:

 "I am obnoxious to each carping tongue Who says my hand a needle better fits, A Poet's pen all scorn I should thus wrong, For such despite they cast on Female wits; If what I do prove well, it won't advance, They'l say it's stol'n, or else it was by chance. 

 "But sure the antique Greeks were far more mild, Else of our Sexe, why feigned they those Nine And poesy made Callippi's own Child; So 'mongst the rest they placed the Arts Divine, But this weak knot they will full soon untie, The Greeks did nought but play the fools and lye. "

This has a determined ring which she hastens to neutralize by atribute and an appeal; the one to man's superior force, the otherto his sense of justice. 

 "Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are, Men have precedency and still excell, It is but vain unjustly to wage warrs; Men can do best and women know it well, Preheminence in all and each is yours; Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours. "

Plain speaking was a Dudley characteristic, but the fate of AnneHutchinson silenced all save a few determined spirits, willing toface the same consequences. In the beginning, however, there couldhave been only welcome for a woman, whose spiritual gifts andunusual powers had made her the friend of John Cotton, and whofascinated men and woman alike. There was reason, for birth andtraining meant every gift a woman of that day was likely topossess. Her father, Thomas Marbury, was one of the Puritanministers of Lincolnshire who afterward removed to London; hermother, a sister of Sir Erasmus Dryden. She was thus related inthe collateral line to two of the greatest of English intellects. Free thinking and plain speaking were family characteristics, forJohn Dryden the poet, her second cousin, was reproached withhaving been an Anabaptist in his youth, and Johnathan Swift, amore distant connection, feared nothing in heaven or earth. It isno wonder, then, that even an enemy wrote of her as "themasterpiece of women's wit, " or that her husband followed herlead with a devotion that never swerved. She had married him atAlford in Lincolnshire, and both were members of Mr. Cotton'scongregation at Boston. 

Mr. Hutchinson's standing among his Puritan contemporaries was ofthe highest. He had considerable fortune, and the gentlest andmost amiable of dispositions. The name seems to have meant allgood gifts, for the same devoted and tender relation existedbetween this pair as between Colonel Hutchinson and his wife. Fromthe quiet and happy beginning of their married life to its mosttragic ending, they clung together, accepting all loss as part ofthe cross they had taken up, when they left the ease ofLincolnshire behind, and sought in exile the freedom whichintolerance denied. 

It is very probable that Anne Hutchinson may have known the Dudleyfamily after their return to Lincolnshire, and certainly in thefirst flush of her New England experiences was likely to have hadintimate relations with them. Her opinions, so far as one candisentangle them from the mass of testimony and discussion, seemto have been in great degree, those held by the early Quakers, butthey had either not fully developed in her own mind before sheleft England, or had not been pronounced enough to attractattention. In any case the weariness of the long voyage seems tohave been in part responsible for much that followed. Endlessdiscussions of religious subtleties were their chief occupation onboard, and one of the company, the Rev. Mr. Symmes, a dogmatic andoverbearing man, found himself often worsted by the quick wit ofthis woman, who silenced all objections, and who, with noconception of the rooted enmity she was exciting, told with theutmost freedom, past and present speculations and experiences. Thelong fasts, and continuous religious exercises, worked upon herenthusiast's temper, and excited by every circumstance of time andplace, it is small wonder that she supposed a direct revelationhad come to her, the nature of which Winthrop mentions in hisHistory. 

"One Mrs. Hutchinson, a member of the church of Boston, a woman ofa ready wit and bold spirit, brought over with her two dangerouserrours:

"1. That the person of the Holy Ghost dwells in a justifiedperson. 

"2. That no sanctification can help to evidence to us ourjustification. From these two, grew many branches; as, 1st, Ourunion with the Holy Ghost, so as a Christian remains dead to everyspiritual action, and hath no gifts nor graces, other than such asare in hypocrites, nor any other sanctification but the Holy Ghosthimself. There joined with her in these opinions a brother ofhers, one Mr. Wheelwright, a silenced minister sometime inEngland. "

Obnoxious as these doctrines came to be, she had been in NewEngland two years before they excited special attention. Herhusband served in the General Court several elections asrepresentative for Boston, until he was excused at the desire ofthe church, and she herself found constant occupation in a roundof kindly deeds. She denied the power of works as any help towardjustification, but no woman in the Colony, gave more practicaltestimony of her faith or made herself more beloved. Though shehad little children to care for, she found time to visit and nursethe sick, having special skill in all disorders of women. Herpresence of mind, her warm sympathy and extraordinary patiencemade her longed for at every sick bed, and she very soon acquiredthe strongest influence. Dudley had made careful inquiries as toher religious standing, and must have been for the time at least, satisfied, and unusual attention was paid her by all thecolonists; the most influential among them being her chieffriends. Coddington, who had built the first brick house inBoston, received them warmly. Her public teaching began quietly, her ministrations by sick beds attracting many, and it is doubtfulif she herself realized in the least the extent of her influence. 

Governor Vane, young and ardent, the temporary idol of the Colony, who had taken the place Governor Winthrop would have naturallyfilled, visited her and soon became one of her most enthusiasticsupporters. Just and unprejudiced as Winthrop was, this summarysetting aside by a people for whom he had sacrificed himselfsteadily, filled him with indignation, though the record in hisJournal is quiet and dignified. But naturally, it made him asterner judge, when the time for judgment came. In the beginning, however, her work seemed simply for good. It had been the customfor the men of the Boston church to meet together on Thursdayafternoons, to go over the sermon of the preceding Sunday, ofwhich notes had been taken by every member. No women wereadmitted, and believing that the same course was equally desirablefor her own sex, Anne Hutchinson appointed two days in the weekfor this purpose, and at last drew about her nearly a hundred ofthe principal women of the Colony. Her lovely character andspotless life, gave immense power to her words, and her teachingat first was purely practical. We can imagine Anne Bradstreet'sdelight in the tender and searching power of this woman, whounderstood intuitively every womanly need, and whose sympathy wasas unfailing as her knowledge. Even for that time her Scripturalknowledge was almost phenomenal, and it is probable that, added tothis, there was an unacknowledged satisfaction in an assembly fromwhich men were excluded, though many sought admission. Mrs. Hutchinson was obliged at last to admit the crowd who believed hergifts almost divine, but refused to teach, calling upon theministers to do this, and confining herself simply to conversation. But Boston at last seemed to have gone over wholly to herviews, while churches at other points opposed them fiercely. Up to this time there had been no attempt to define thecharacter of the Holy Ghost, but now a powerful opposition to hertheory arose, and furious discussions were held in meetings andout. The very children caught the current phrases, and jeered oneanother as believers in the "Covenant of Grace, " or the "Covenantof Works, " and the year 1636 came and passed with the Colony atswords points with one another. Every difficulty was aggravated byVane, whose youth and inexperience made it impossible for him tounderstand the temper of the people he ruled. The rise ofdifferences had been so gradual that no one suspected whatmischief might come till the results suddenly disclosedthemselves. That vagaries and eccentricities were to be expected, never entered the minds of this people, who accepted their owndeparture from authority and ancient ordinances as just and right, but could never conceive that others might be justified in actingon the same principle. 

To understand even in slight degree the conflict which followed, one must remember at every turn, that no interests save religiousinterests were of even momentary importance. Every member of theColony had hard, laborious work to do, but it was hurried throughwith the utmost speed, in order to have time for the almost dailylectures and expoundings that made their delight. Certain moreworldly minded among them had petitioned for a shortening of theseservices, but were solemnly reproved, and threatened with the"Judgment of God on their frowardness. "

With minds perpetually concentrated on subtle interpretations, agreement was impossible. Natural life, denied and set aside atevery point, gave place to the unnatural, and every colonist was, quite unconsciously, in a state of constant nervous tension andirritability. The questions that to us seem of even startlingtriviality, were discussed with a fervor and earnestness it iswell nigh impossible to comprehend. They were a slight advance onthe scholastic disputations of the preceding century, but theymeant disagreement and heart-burnings, and the more intolerantdetermined on stamping out all variations from their ownconvictions. 

Any capacity for seeking to carry out Robinson's injunction in hisfinal sermon at Leyden seems to have died once for all, in the warof words. "I beseech you, " he had said, "remember that it is anarticle of your church covenant, that you be ready to receivewhatever truth shall be made known to you from the written word ofGod. " There was small remnant of this spirit even among the mostliberal. 

Dudley was one of the chief movers in the course resolved upon, and mourned over Cotton, who still held to Anne Hutchinson, andwrote and spoke of her as one who "was well beloved, and all thefaithful embraced her conference, and blessed God for her fruitfuldiscourses. "

Mr. Welde, on the contrary, one of her fiercest opponents, described her as "a woman of haughty and fierce carriage, of animble wit and active spirit, and a very voluble tongue, more boldthan a man, though in understanding and judgment inferior to manywomen. "

How far the object of all this confusion realized the real stateof things cannot be determined. But by January, 1637, dissensionhad reached such a height that a fast was appointed for the Pequotwar and the religious difficulties. The clergy had become herbitterest enemies, and with some reason, for through her meansmany of their congregations had turned against them. Mr. Wilson, once the most popular minister in Boston, had been superseded byher brother, --Mr. Wheelwright, and Boston began the hereticalcareer which has been her portion from that day to this. 

Active measures were necessary. The General Court was stillgoverned by the clergy, and by March had settled upon its futurecourse, and summoned Wheelwright, who was censured and foundguilty of sedition. Governor Vane opposed the verdict bitterly. The chief citizens of Boston sent in a "Remonstrance, " and actualanarchy seemed before them. The next Court was held at Newtown toavoid the danger of violence at Boston, and a disorderly electiontook place in which the Puritan Fathers came to blows, set down byWinthrop as "a laying on of hands. "

The grave and reverend Wilson, excited beyond all considerationsof Puritanical propriety, climbed a tree, and made a vigorousspeech to the throng of people, in which many malcontents were atwork urging on an opposition that proved fruitless. Vane wasdefeated and Winthrop again made governor, his calm forbearancebeing the chief safety of the divided and unhappy colonists, whoresented what they settled to be tyranny, and cast about for somemeans of redress. None was to be had. Exile, imprisonment and evendeath, awaited the most eminent citizens; Winthrop's entry intoBoston was met by gloomy silence, and for it all, Welde and Symmesprotested Anne Hutchinson to be responsible, and denounced her asa heretic and a witch. 

She in the meantime seems to have been in a state of religiousexaltation which made her blind and deaf to all danger. Hermeetings continued, and she in turn denounced her opponents andbelieved that some revelation would be given to show the justiceof her claims. There was real danger at last. If the full story ofthese dissensions were told in England, possession of charter, which had already been threatened, might be lost entirely. Dudleywas worked up to the highest pitch of apprehension, believing thatif the dissension went on, there might even be a repetition of thehorrors of Munster. Divided as they were, concerted action againstenemies, whether Indian or foreign, could not be expected. Therewas danger of a general league of the New England Indians, and"when a force was ordered to take the field for the salvation ofthe settlements, the Boston men refused to be mustered becausethey suspected the chaplain, who had been designated by lot toaccompany the expedition, of being under a covenant of works. "

Such a state of things, if known in full at home, would shut offall emigration. That men of character and means should join themwas an essential to the continued life of the Colony. Settingaside any question of their own personal convictions, theirleaders saw that the continuance among them of these disturbingelements meant destruction, and Winthrop, mild and reasonable ashe sought to be, wrote: "He would give them one reason, which wasa ground for his judgment, and that was, for that he saw thatthose brethren, etc. , were so divided from the rest of the countryin their judgment and practice, as it could not stand with thepublic peace, that they should continue amongst us. So by theexample of Lot in Abraham's family, and after Hagar and Ishmael, he saw they must be sent away. "

With August came the famous Synod of Cambridge, the first everheld in New England, in which the Church set about defining itsown position and denouncing the Hutchinsonians. Eighty-twoheresies were decided to have arisen, all of which were condemned, and this being settled, Cotton was admonished, and escaped exileonly by meekly explaining away his errors. Wheelwright, refusingto yield, was sentenced to imprisonment and exile; Mrs. Hutchinson's meetings were declared seditious and disorderly, andprohibited, and the Synod separated, triumphant. The field wastheir own. 

What they had really accomplished was simply to deepen the linesand make the walls of division still higher. In later years no onecared to make public the proceedings of the body, and there isstill in existence a loose paper, described by the Rev. George E. Ellis in his "Life of Anne Hutchinson"; a petition from Mr. JohnHigginson, son of the Salem minister . . . By which it appears thathe was employed by the magistrates and ministers to take down inshort hand, all the debates and proceedings of the Synod. Heperformed the work faithfully, and having written out thevoluminous record, at "the expense of much time and pains, " hepresented it to the Court in May, 1639. The long time that elapsedmay indicate the labor. The Court accepted it, and ordered that, if approved by the ministers, after they had viewed it, it shouldbe printed, Mr. Higginson being entitled to the profits, whichwere estimated as promising a hundred pounds. The writer waitedwith patience while his brethren examined it, and freely tooktheir advice. Some were in favor of printing it; but othersadvised to the contrary, "conceiving it might possibly be anoccasion of further disputes and differences both in this countryand other parts of the world. "

Naturally they failed to agree. The unfortunate writer, havingscruples which prevented his accepting an offer of fifty poundsfor the manuscript, made probably by some Hutchinsonian, waitedthe pleasure of the brethren, reminding them at intervals of hisclaim, but so far as can be discovered, failing always to make itgood, and the manuscript itself disappeared, carrying with it theonly tangible testimony to the bitterness and intolerance of whicheven the owners were in after years ashamed. 

In the meantime, Harry Vane, despairing of peaceful life among hisenemies, had sailed for England early in August, to pass throughevery phase of political and spiritual experience, and to give uphis life at last on the scaffold to which the treachery of thesecond Charles condemned him. With his departure, no powerfulfriend remained to Anne Hutchinson, whose ruin had been determinedupon and whose family were seeking a new and safer home. Commonprudence should have made her give up her public meetings and showsome deference to the powers she had always defied. Even this, however, could not have saved her, and in November, 1637, thetrial began which even to-day no New Englander can recall withoutshame; a trial in which civil, judicial, and ecclesiastical forcesall united to crush a woman, whose deepest fault was a tooenthusiastic belief in her own inspiration. 

Winthrop conducted the prosecution, mild and calm in manner, butresolutely bent upon punishment, and by him sat Dudley, Endicott, Bradstreet, Nowell and Stoughton; Bradstreet and Winthrop beingthe only ones who treated her with the faintest semblance ofcourtesy. Welde and Symmes, Wilson and Hugh Peters, faced herwith a curious vindictiveness, and in the throng of excitedlistenders, hardly a friendly face met her eyes, even her old friend, John Cotton, having become simply a timid instrument of herpersecutors. 

The building in which the trial took place was thronged. Hundredswho had been attracted by her power, looked on: magistrates andministers, yeoman and military, the sad colored garments of thegentry in their broad ruffs and high crowned hats, bringing outthe buff coats of the soldiers, and the bright bodices of thewomen, who clung to the vanities of color, and defied the tacitlaw that limited them to browns and drabs. Over all hung the grayNovember sky, and the chill of the dolorous month was in the air, and did its work toward intensifying the bitterness which ruledthem all. 

It is doubtful if Anne Bradstreet made one of the spectators. Herinstinct would have been to remain away, for the sympathy shecould not help but feel, could not betray itself, without at onceranking her in opposition to the judgment of both husband andfather. Anne Hutchinson's condition was one to excite thecompassion and interest of every woman, but it had no such effecton her judges, who forced her to stand till she nearly fell fromexhaustion. Food was denied her; no counsel was allowed, or thepresence of any friend who could have helped by presence, if in noother way. 

Feeble in body, depressed and anxious in mind, one reacted onanother, and the marvel is not that she here and there contradictedherself, or lost patience, but that any coherence or power ofargument remained. 

The records of the trial show both. Winthrop opened it by making ageneral charge of heresy, and Anne demanded a specific one, andwhen the charge of holding unlawful meetings was brought, deniedit so energetically and effectually, that Winthrop had no morewords and turned the case over to the less considerate Dudley, whose wrath at her presumption knew no bounds. Both he and theministers who swore against her, used against her statements whichshe had made in private interviews with them, which she hadsupposed to be confidential, but which were now reported indetail. Naturally she reproached the witnesses with beinginformers, and they justified their course hotly. Mr. Cotton'stestimony, given most reluctantly, confirmed their statements. Thechief grievance was not her meetings, so much as the fact that shehad publicly criticized the teaching and religious character ofthe ministers, insisting that Mr. Cotton alone had the full"thorough-furnishing" for such work. Deep but smothered feelingwas apparent in every word the initiated witnesses spoke, and themagistrate, Mr. Coddington, in vain assured them, that even if shehad said all this and more, no real harm had been done. Cottonsided with him, and spoke so powerfully that there was a slightdiversion in her favor, rendered quite null by her claim ofimmediate inspiration in what she had done. 

The records at this point, show none of the excitement, thehysterical ecstasy which marked the same declaration in the caseof some among the Quakers who were afterward tried. Her calmnessincreased instead of lessening. On the score of contempt of theministers it had become evident that she could not be convicted, but this claim to direct revelation, was an even more seriousmatter. Scripture might be twisted to the point of dismemberment, so long as one kept to the text, and made no pretence of knowledgebeyond it; contention within these bounds was lawful andhonorable, and the daily food of these argumentative Christianswho gave themselves to the work of combining intellectual freedomand spiritual slavery, with perpetual surprise at any indicationthat the two were incompatible. 

The belief in personal revelation, actually no more than a deepimpression produced by long pondering over some passage, wasreally part of the Puritan faith, but the united company had nothought of discovering points of harmony, or brushing aside merephrases which simply concealed the essential truth held by both. Such belief could come only from the direct prompting of Satan, and when she firmly and solemnly declared that whatever way theirjudgment went, she should be saved from calamity, that she was andshould remain, in direct communion with God, and that they weresimply pitiless persecutors of the elect, the wrath was instantand boundless. A unanimous vote condemned her at once, and standsin the records of Massachusetts as follows:

"Mrs. Hutchinson, the wife of Mr. William Hutchinson, beingconvicted for traducing the ministers and their ministry in thecountry, she declared voluntarily her revelations, and that sheshould be delivered, and the Court ruined with their posterity, and thereupon was banished, and in the meanwhile was committed toMr. Joseph Welde (of Roxbury) until the Court shall dispose ofher. "

Her keeper for the winter was the brother of her worst enemy. Shewas to be kept there at the expense of her husband, but forbiddento pursue any of her usual occupations. Naturally she sunk into adeep melancholy, in no wise lessened by constant visits from theministers, who insisted upon discussing her opinions, and whowrought upon her till she was half distracted. They accused her offalsehoods, declaring that she held "gross errors, to the numberof thirty or thereabouts, " and badgering the unhappy creature tillit is miraculous that any spirit remained. Then came the churchtrial, more legitimate, but conducted with fully as much virulenceas the secular one, the day of the weekly lecture, Thursday, beingchosen, as that which brought together the greatest number ofpeople. 

The elders accused her of deliberate lying, and point by point, brought up the thirty errors. Of some she admitted her possiblemistake; others she held to strenuously, but all were simplyspeculation, not one having any vital bearing on faith or life. Public admonition was ordered, but before this her two sons hadbeen publicly censured for refusing to join in signing the paperwhich excommunicated her, Mr. Cotton addressing them "mostpitifully and pathetically, " as "giving way to natural affectionand as tearing the very bowels of their souls by hardening theirmother in sin. " Until eight in the evening, an hour equivalent toeleven o'clock with our present habits, the congregation listenedto question and answer and admonition, in which last, Mr. Cotton"spake to the sisters of the church, and advised them to take heedof her opinions, and to withhold all countenance and respect fromher, lest they should harden her in her sin. "

Anne Bradstreet must have listened with a curious mixture offeelings, though any evidence of them would naturally berepressed. Once more all came together, and once more, AnneHutchinson, who faced them in this last encounter with a quietdignity, that moved the more sympathetic to pity, denied thecharges they brought, and the three years controversy which, asEllis writes, "had drawn nearly the whole of the believers inBoston---magistrates, ministers, women, soldiers, and the commonmultitude under the banners of a female leader, had changed thegovernment of the Colony, and spread its strange reports overProtestant Europe, was thus brought to an issue, by imputingdeception about one of the most unintelligible tenets of faith toher, who could not be circumvented in any other way. "

The closest examination of her statements shows no ground for thisjudgment. It was the inferences of her opponents, and no fact ofher real belief that made against her, but inference, then as now, made the chief ground for her enemies. Excommunication followed atonce, and now, the worst having come, her spirits rose, and shefaced them with quiet dignity, but with all her old assurance, glorying in the whole experience so that one of the indignantministers described her manner with deep disgust, and added: "Godgiving her up, since the sentence of excommunication, to thathardness of heart, as she is not affected with any remorse, butglories in it, and fears not the vengeance of God which she liesunder, as if God did work contrary to his own word, and loosedfrom heaven, while his church had bound upon earth. "

Other ministers were as eager in denunciation, preaching againsther as "the American Jezebel, " and even the saintly Hooker wrote:"The expression of providence against this wretched woman hathproceeded from the Lord's miraculous mercy, and his bare arm hathbeen discovered therein from first to last, that all the churchesmay hear and fear. I do believe such a heap of hideous errors atonce to be vented by such a self-deluding and deluded creature, nohistory can record; and yet, after recantation of all, to be castout as unsavory salt, that she may not continue a pest to theplace, that will be forever marvellous in the eyes of all thesaints. "

Even the lapse of several generations left the animus unchanged, and Graham, usually so dispassionate and just in statement, wroteof her almost vindictively:

"In the assemblies which were held by the followers of Mrs. Hutchinson, there was nourished and trained a keen, contentiousspirit, and an unbridled license of tongue, of which the influencewas speedily felt in the serious disturbance, first of domestichappiness, and then of the public peace. The matrons of Bostonwere transformed into a synod of slanderous praters, whoseinquisitional deliberations and audacious decrees, instilled theirvenom into the innermost recesses of society; and the spirits of agreat majority of the citizen being in that combustible state inwhich a feeble spark will suffice to kindle a formidableconflagration, the whole Colony was inflamed and distracted by theincontinence of female spleen and presumption. "

Amidst this rattle of theological guns there was danger thatothers might be heard. To subdue Boston was the first necessity, and an order for disarming the disaffected was issued. The mosteminent citizens, if suspected of favoring her, had their firearmstaken from them, and even Capt. John Underhill was forced to giveup his sword. An account of the whole controversy was written byMr. Welde and sent over to England for publication in order thatthe Colony might not suffer from slanderous reports, and that no"godly friends" might be prevented from coming over. For thewinter of 1637, Boston was quiet, but it was an ominous quiet, inwhich destructive forces gathered, and though never visible on thesurface, worked in evil ways for more than one of the generationsthat followed. Freedom had ended for any who differed from thefaith as laid down by the Cambridge Synod, and but one resultcould follow. All the more liberal spirits saw that Massachusettscould henceforth be no home for them, and made haste to otherpoints. Coddington led a colony to Rhode Island, made up chieflyof the fifty-eight who had been disarmed, and in process of timebecame a Quaker. This was the natural ending for many, the heartof Anne Hutchinson's doctrine being really a belief in the "InwardLight, " a doctrine which seems to have outraged every Puritansusceptibility for fully a hundred years, and until the reactionbegan, which has made individual judgment the only creed common tothe people of New England. It was reasonable enough, however, thatMassachusetts should dread a colony of such uneasy spirits, planted at her very doors, enfranchised and heretical to anappalling degree and considered quite as dangerous as so manymalefactors, and an uneasy and constant watch was kept. 

The Hutchinsons had sold their property in Boston and joinedCoddington at Pocasset, of which Mr. Hutchinson soon became thechief magistrate. His wife, as before, was the master spirit. Sheeven addressed an admonition to the church in Boston, turning thetables temporarily upon her enemies, though the end of her powerwas at hand. In 1642, her husband died, and various circumstanceshad before this made her influence feared and disliked. Freedom inany English settlement had ceased to be possible, and asMassachusetts grew more powerful, she resigned any hope of holdingthe place won by so many sacrifices and emigrated to the Dutchsettlement, forming a small colony of sixteen persons at Pelham inWestchester County, New York, where a little river still bears hername. 

One son had remained in Boston, and was the ancestor of the ToryGovernor of Massachusetts during the Revolution, and a daughteralso married and settled there, so that her blood is still foundin the veins of more than one New England family, some of whoseancestors were most directly concerned in casting her out. But heryounger children and a son-in-law were still with her, with a fewof her most devoted followers, and she still anticipated peace anda quiet future. Both came at last, but not in the looked-forguise. No date remains of the fate of the little colony and onlythe Indian custom of preserving the names of those they killed, has made us know that Wampago himself, the owner of the land aboutPelham, was the murderer of the woman, whose troubled but notunhappy life went out in the fire and blood of an Indian massacre. 

To the Puritans in Boston, such fate seemed justice, and theyrejoiced with a grim exultation. "The Lord, " said Welde, "heardour groans to heaven, and freed us from our great and soreaffliction. " No tale was too gross and shameless to findacceptance, and popular feeling against her settled into suchfixed enmity that even her descendant, the historian Hutchinson, dared not write anything that would seem to favor her cause. Yet, necessary as her persecution and banishment may have been to thesafety of the Colony, the faith for which she gave her life hasbeen stronger than her enemies. Mistaken as she often was, a truerChristianity dwelt with her than with them, and the tolerationdenied her has shown itself as the heart of all present life orfuture progress. 

CHAPTER VII. 

COLONIAL LITERARY DEVELOPMENT IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 

It was before the final charge from Ipswich to Andover, that thechief part of Anne Bradstreet's literary work was done, the tenyears after her arrival in New England being the only fruitfulones. As daughter and wife of two of the chief magistrates, sheheard the constant discussion of questions of policy as well asquestions of faith, both strongly agitated by the stormy years ofAnne Hutchinson's stay in Boston, and it is very probable that shesought refuge from the anxiety of the troubled days, in poeticalcomposition, and in poring over Ancient History found consolationin the fact that old times were by no means better than the new. The literary life of New England had already begun, and it isworth while to follow the lines of its growth and development, through the colonial days, if only to understand better thecurious limitations for any one who sought to give tangible formto thought, whether in prose or poetry. For North and South, thestory was the same. 

The points of divergence in the northern and southern colonieshave been so emphasized, and the impression has become so fixed, that the divisions of country had as little in common as camelater to be the fact, that any statement as to their essentialagreement, is distrusted or denied. Yet even to-day, in a regionwhere many causes have made against purity of blood, the travellerin the South is often startled, in some remote town of theCarolinas or of Virginia, at the sight of what can only becharacterized as a Southern Yankee. At one's very side in thelittle church may sit a man who, if met in Boston, would be takenfor a Brahmin of the Brahmins. His face is as distinctively a NewEngland one as was Emerson's. High but narrow forehead, prominentnose, thin lips, and cheek bones a trifle high; clear, cold blueeyes and a slender upright figure Every line shows repressedforce, the possibility of passionate energy, of fierce enmity andruthless judgment on anything outside of personal experience. Culture is equally evident, but culture refusing to believe inanything modern, and resting its claims on little beyond the timeof Queen Anne. It is the Puritan alive again, and why not?Descended directly from some stray member of the Cromwellian partywho fled at the Restoration, he chose Virginia rather than NewEngland, allured by the milder climate. But he is of the sameclass, the same prejudices and limitations as the New EnglandPuritan, the sole difference being that he has stood still whilethe other passed on unrestingly. But in 1635, it was merely adifference of location, never of mental habit, that divided them. For both alike, the description given by one of our most brilliantwriters, applied the English people of the seventeenth centurybeing summed up in words quite as applicable to-day as then: "Atthat time, though they were apparently divided into many classes, they were really divided into only two---first, the disciples ofthings as they are; second, the disciples of things as they oughtto be. "

It was chiefly "the disciples of things as they ought to be" thatpassed over from Old England to the New, and as such faith meansusually supreme discomfort for its holder, and quite as much forthe opposer, there was a constant and lively ebullition of forceson either side. Every Puritan who came over waged a triple war--first, with himself as a creature of malignant and desperatetendencies, likely at any moment to commit some act born of hell;second, with the devil, at times regarded as practicallysynonymous with one's own nature, at others as a tangible andaudacious adversary; and last and always, with all who differedfrom his own standard of right and wrong---chiefly wrong. Themotto of that time was less "Dare to do right, " than "Do not dareto do wrong. " All mental and spiritual furnishings were shaken outof the windows daily, by way of dislodging any chance seeds ofvice sown by the great adversary. One would have thought theconflict with natural forces quite enough to absorb allsuperfluous energy, every fact of climate, soil and naturalfeatures being against them, but neither scanty harvests, norIndian wars, nor devastating disease, had the power to longsuppress this perpetual and unflinching self-discipline. 

Unlike any other colony of the New World, the sole purpose andmotive of action was an ideal one. The Dutch sought peltries andtrade in general, and whereever they established themselves, atonce gave tokens of material comfort and prosperity. The moreSouthern Colonies were this basis, adding to it the freedom oflife--the large hospitality possible where miles of land formedthe plantation, and service meant no direct outlay or expense. Here and there a Southern Puritan was found, as his type may befound to-day, resisting the charm of physical ease and comfort, and constituting himself a missionary to the Indians of SouthCarolina, or to settlements remote from all gospel privileges, butfor the most part the habits of an English squire-ruled countryprevailed, and were enlarged upon; each man in the centre of hisgreat property being practically king. Dispersion of forces wasthe order, and thus many necessities of civilization weredispensed with. The man who had a river at his door had nooccasion to worry over the making or improvement of roads, a boatcarrying his supplies, and bridle-paths sufficing his horse andhimself. With no need for strenuous conflict with nature or man, the power of resistance died naturally. Sharp lines softened;muscles weakened, and before many generations the type had soaltered that the people who had left England as one, were two, once for all. 

The law of dispersion, practical and agreeable to the Southernlandholder, would have been destruction to his New Englandbrethren. For the latter, concentration was the only safety. Theymassed together in close communities, and necessarily were forcedto plan for the general rather than for the individual good. Insuch close quarters, where every angle made itself felt, andconstant contact developed and implied criticism, law must workfar more minutely than in less exacting communities. Everytendency to introspection and self-judging was strengthened to theutmost, and merciless condemnation for one's self came to mean astill sharper one for others. With every power of brain and soulthey fought against what, to them, seemed the one evil for that orany time--toleration. Each man had his own thought, and was ableto put it into strong words. No colony has ever known so large aproportion of learned men, there being more graduates of Cambridgeand Oxford between the years 1630 and 1690 than it was possible tofind in a population of the same size in the mother country. "Inits inception, New England was not an agricultural community, nora manufacturing community, nor a trading community; it was athinking community---an arena and mart for ideas--its characteristicorgan being not the hand, nor the heart, nor the pocket, butthe brain. "

The material for learning, we have seen, was of the scantiest, notonly for Winthrop's Colony but for those that preceded it. 

The three little ships that, on a misty afternoon in December, 1606, dropped down the Thames with sails set for an unknowncountry, carried any freight but that of books. Book-makers werethere in less proportion than on board the solitary vessel that, in 1620, took a more northerly course, and cast anchor at last offthe bleak and sullen shore of Massachusetts; but for both alikethe stress of those early years left small energy or time for anycomposition beyond the reports that, at stated intervals, wentback to the mother country. The work of the pioneer is for musclesfirst, brain having small opportunity, save as director; and itrequired more than one generation before authorship could becomethe business of any, not even the clergy being excepted from thestress of hard manual labor. 

Yet, for the first departure, an enthusiasm of hope and faithfilled many hearts. The England of that day had not been tookindly toward her men of letters, who were then, as now, also menof dreams, looking for something better than the best she had tooffer, and who, in the early years of the seventeenth century, gathered in London as the centre least touched by the bigotry andnarrowness of one party, the wild laxity and folly of the other. "The very air of London must have been electric with the dailywords of those immortals whose casual talk upon the pavement bythe street-side was a coinage of speech richer, more virile, moreexpressive than has been known on this planet since the great daysof Atheman poetry, eloquence and mirth. " There were "wits, dramatists, scholars, orators, singers, philosophers. " For everyone of them was the faith of something undefined, yet infinitelyprecious, to be born of all the mysterious influences in that newland to which all eyes turned, and old Michael Drayton's ringingode on their departure held also a prophecy:

 "In kenning of the shore, Thanks to God first given, O you, the happiest men, Be frolic then; Let cannons roar, Frighting the wide heaven. 

 "And in regions far Such heroes bring ye forth As those from whom we came; And plant our name Under that star Not known unto our north. 

 "And as there plenty grows Of laurel everywhere-- Apollo's sacred tree-- You, it may see, A poet's brows to crown That may sing there. "

The men who, in passing over to America could not cease to beEnglishmen, were the friends and associates--the intellectualequals in many points of this extraordinary assemblage ofbrilliant and audacious intellects; and chief among them was theman at whose name we are all inclined to smile--Captain JohnSmith. So many myths have hid the real man from view--some ofthem, it must be admitted, of his own making--that we forget howvivid and resolute a personality he owned, and the pride we maywell have in him as the writer of the first distinctively Americanbook. His work was not only for Virginia, but for New England aswell. His life was given to the interests of both. Defeated plans, baffled hopes, had no power to quench the absorbing love thatfilled him to the end, and, at the very last, he wrote of theAmerican colonies: "By that acquaintance I have with them, I callthem my children; for they have been my wife, my hawks, hounds, mycards, my dice, and, in total, my best content, as indifferent tomy heart as my left hand to my right. "

Certain qualities, most prominent then, have, after a longdisappearance, become once more, in degree at least, characteristicof the time. The book man of to-day is quite as likely to be alsothe man of affairs, and the pale and cloistered student of the pastis rather a memory than a present fact. History thus repeats itselfas usual, and the story of the literary men of the nineteenthcentury has many points in common with that of the seventeenth. 

Smith's description of New England had had active circulation inthe Mother Country, and many a Puritan trusted it entirely, whowould have frowned upon the writer had he appeared in person totestify of what he had seen. Certainly the Cavalier predominatedin him, the type to which he belonged being of the noble one "ofwhich the Elizabethan age produced so many examples--the man ofaction who was also the man of letters; the man of letters who wasalso a man of action; the wholesomest type of manhood anywhere tobe found; body and brain both active, both cultivated; the mindnot made fastidious and morbid by too much bookishness, nor coarseand dull by too little; not a doer who is dumb, not a speech-makerwho cannot do; the knowledge that comes of books, widened andfreshened by the knowledge that comes of experience; the literarysense fortified by common sense; the bashfulness and delicacy ofthe scholar hovering as a finer presence above the forcefulaudacity of the man of the world; at once bookman, penman, swordsman, diplomat, sailor, courtier, orator. Of this type ofmanhood, spacious, strong, refined and sane, were the best men ofthe Elizabethan time, George Gascoigne, Sir Philip Sidney, SirWalter Raleigh, and, in a modified sense, Hakluyt, Bacon, Sackville, Shakespeare, Ben Johnson and nearly all the rest. "

It would have been impossible to make John Smith a Puritan, but anameliorated Puritan might easily have become a John Smith. It isworth while to recall his work and that of his fellow colonists, if only to note the wide and immediate departure of thought in thenorthern and southern colonies, even where the Puritan elemententered in, nor can we understand Anne Bradstreet, without athought of the forces at work in the new country, unconscious butpotent causes of all phases of literary life in that early time. 

The Virginia colonist had more knowledge of the world and lessknowledge of himself, introspection, or any desire for it, beingno part of his mental constitution or habit. 

Intellectually, he demanded a spherical excellence, easier thenthan now, and attained by many a student of that day, and to thisCaptain John aspired, one at least of his contemporaries givingproof of faith that he had attained it in lines written on him andhis book on the history of Virginia and New England:

 "Like Caesar, now thou writ'st what them hast done. These acts, this book, will live while there's a sun. "

The history is picturesque, and often amusing. As a writer he wasalways "racy, terse, fearless, " but, save to the special student, there is little value to the present student, unless he be asearcher after the spirit that moved not only the man, but, through him, the time he moulded. For such reader will still befelt "the impression of a certain personal largeness . . . Magnanimity, affluence, sense and executive force. Over all hispersonal associates in American adventure he seems to tower, bythe natural loftiness and reach of the perception with which hegrasped the significance of their vast enterprise and the means toits success. . . . He had the faults of an impulsive, irascible, egotistic and imaginative nature; he sometimes bought human praiseat too high a price, but he had great abilities in word and deed;his nature was, upon the whole, generous and noble; and during thefirst two decades of the seventeenth century, he did more than anyother Englishman to make an American nation and an Americanliterature possible. "

Behind the stockade at Jamestown, only the most persistent benttoward letters had chance of surviving. Joyful as the landing hadbeen, the Colony had no sturdy backbone of practical workers. Their first summer was unutterably forlorn, the beauty andfertility that had seemed to promise to the sea-sad eyes a life ofinstant ease, bringing with it only a "horrible trail ofhomesickness, discord, starvation, pestilence and Indianhostility. " No common purpose united them, as in the NorthernColony. Save for the leaders, individual profit had been the onlyambition or intention. Work had no place in the scheme of life, and even when ship after ship discharged its load of immigrantsmatters were hardly mended. Perpetual discord became the law. Smith fled from the tumults which he had no power to quiet, and along succession of soon-discouraged officers waged a species ofhand-to-hand conflict with the wild elements that made up theColony. One poet, George Sandys, whose name and work are still ofmeaning and value to the student, found leisure, borrowed from thenight, for a translation of Ovid's "Metamorphoses, " commended byboth Dryden and Pope, and which passed at once through eighteditions, but there were no others. 

Twenty years of colonial life had ended when he returned toEngland, and the spirit of the early founders had well nighdisappeared. Literary work had died with it. A few had smalllibraries, chiefly Latin classics, but a curious torpor hadsettled down, the reasons for which are now evident. There was noconstant intercourse, as in New England. The "policy ofdispersion" was the law, for every man aspired to be a large land-owner, and, in the midst of his tract of half-cleared land, hadsmall communication with any but his inferiors. Within fifty yearsany intellectual standard had practically ceased to exist. TheGovernor, Sir William Berkeley, whose long rule meant death toprogress, thundered against the printing-press, and believedabsolutely in the "fine old conservative policy of keepingsubjects ignorant in order to keep them submissive. " For thirty-six years his energies were bent in this direction. Protest of anysort simply intensified his purpose, and when 1670 dawned he hadthe happiness of making to the English Commissioners a reply thathas become immortal, though hardly in the sense anticipated, whenhe wrote: "I thank God there are no free schools, nor printing;and I hope we shall not have these hundred years; for learning hasbrought disobedience and heresy and sects into the world, andprinting has divulged them and libels against the best government. God keep us from both. "

A dark prayer, and answered as fully as men's own acts can fulfilltheir prayers. The brilliant men who had passed from the scene hadno successors. The few malcontents were silenced by a law whichmade "even the first thrust of the pressman's lever a crime, " anduntil 1729 there was neither printing nor desire for printing inany general sense. The point where our literature began had becomeapparently its burial-place; the historians and poets and studentsof an earlier generation were not only unheeded but forgotten, anda hundred years of intellectual barrenness, with another hundred, before even partial recovery could be apparent, were the portionof Virginia and all the states she influenced or controlled. Nopower could have made it otherwise. "Had much literature beenproduced there, would it not have been a miracle? The units of thecommunity isolated; little chance for mind to kindle mind; noschools; no literary institutions, high or low; no publiclibraries; no printing-press; no intellectual freedom; noreligious freedom; the forces of society tending to create twogreat classes--a class of vast land-owners, haughty, hospitable, indolent, passionate, given to field sports and politics; and aclass of impoverished white plebeians and black serfs; theseconstitute a situation out of which may be evolved countrygentlemen, loud-lunged and jolly fox-hunters, militia heroes, menof boundless domestic heartiness and social grace, astute andimperious politicians, fiery orators, and, by and by, here andthere, perhaps after awhile, a few amateur literary men---but noliterary class, and almost no literature. "

 * * * * *

The Northern Colony had known strange chances also, but everycircumstance and accident of its life fostered the literary spiritand made the student the most honored member of the community. TheMayflower brought a larger proportion of men with literaryantecedents and tendencies than had landed on the Virginia coast;and though every detail of life was fuller of hard work, privationand danger--climate being even more against them than Indians orany other misery of the early years--the proportion remained muchthe same. It is often claimed that this early environment wasutterly opposed to any possibility of literary development. On thecontrary, "those environments were, for a certain class of mind, extremely wholesome and stimulating. " Hawthorne has writtensomewhere: "New England was then in a state incomparably morepicturesque than at present, or than it has been within the memoryof man. " And Tyler, in his brilliant analysis of early colonialforces, takes much the same ground: "There were about them many ofthe tokens and forces of a picturesque, romantic and impressivelife; the infinite solitudes of the wilderness, its mystery, itspeace; the near presence of nature, vast, potent, unassailed; thestrange problems presented to them by savage character and savagelife; their own escape from great cities, from crowds, from meancompetition; the luxury of having room enough; the delight ofbeing free; the urgent interest of all the Protestant world intheir undertaking; the hopes of humanity already looking thither;the coming to them of scholars, saints, statesmen, philosophers. "

Yet even for these men there were restraints that to-day seemshameful and degrading. Harvard College had been made responsiblefor the good behavior of the printing-press set up in 1639, andfor twenty-three years this seemed sufficient. Finally twoofficial licensers were appointed, whose business was to read andpronounce a verdict either for or against everything proposed forpublication. Anyone might consider these hindrances sufficient, but intolerance gained with every year of restriction, and whenfinally the officers were induced by arguments which must havebeen singularly powerful, to allow the printing of an edition of"Invitation of Christ, " a howl arose from every council andgeneral assembly, whether of laws of divinity, and the unluckybook was characterized as one written "by a popish minister, wherein is contained some things that are less safe to be infusedamongst the people of this place"; and the authorities ordered notonly a revisal of its contents but a cessation of all work on theprinting-press. Common sense at length came to the rescue, butlegal restraints on printing were not abolished in Massachusettsuntil twenty-one years before the Declaration of Independence. 

As with Virginia the early years were most fertile in work of anyinterest to the present time, and naturally so. Fresh from thelife not only of books but of knowledge of "the central currentsof the world's best thinking, " these influences could not die outin the generation nearest them. For every writer some history ofthe Colony was the first instinct, and William Bradford holds thesame relation to New England as Captain John Smith to Virginia--the racy, incisive, picturesque diction of the latter being a key-hole to their colonial life, as symbolical as the measured, restrained and solemn periods of the Puritan writer. Argument hadbecome a necessity of life. It had been forced upon them inEngland in the endeavor to define their position not only to theCavalier element but to themselves, and became finally so rooted amental habit that "even on the brink of any momentous enterprisethey would stop and argue the case if a suspicion occurred to themthat things were not right. "

They were never meek and dreamy saints, but, on the contrary, "rather pragmatical and disputatious persons, with all the edgesand corners of their characters left sharp, with all theiropinions very definitely formed, and with their habits of frankutterance quite thoroughly matured. " But for Bradford, and Morton, and Johnson, and other equally worthy and honored names, thisdisputatious tendency was a surface matter, and the deeper traitswere of an order that make petty peculiarities forgotten. ForBradford especially, was "an untroubled command of strong andmanly speech. . . . The daily food of his spirit was noble. Heuttered himself without effort, like a free man, a sage and aChristian, " and his voice was that of many who followed him. Loving the mother country with passion, the sense of exile longremained with them--a double exile, since they had first takenfirm hold in Leyden, and parted from its ease and prosperity withwords which hold the pathos and quiet endurance still theundertone of much New England life, and which, though alreadyquoted, are the key note of the early days. 

"So they left that goodly and pleasant city which had been theirresting-place near twelve years; but they knew they were pilgrims, and looked not much on these things, but lift up their eyes to theheavens, that dearest country, and quieted their spirits. "

What John Winthrop's work was like, whether in private diary orletter, or in more formal composition, we have already seen, butthere is one speech of his in 1645, which was of profoundestinterest to the whole Colony, and must have stirred AnneBradstreet to the very depths. This speech was made before thegeneral court after his acquittal of the charge of having exceededhis authority as deputy governor. And one passage, containing hisstatement of the nature of liberty, has been pronounced by bothEnglish and American thinkers far beyond the definition ofBlackstone, and fully on a par with the noblest utterances of JohnLocke or Algernon Sidney. 

As time went on authorship passed naturally into the hands of theclergy, who came to be the only class with much leisure for study. The range of subjects treated dwindled more and more from year toyear. The breadth and vigor of the early days were lost, thepragmatical and disputatious element gaining more and more ground. Unfortunately, "they stood aloof with a sort of horror from therichest and most exhilarating types of classic writing in theirown tongue. " The Hebrew Scriptures and many classics of Roman andGreek literature were still allowed; but no genuine literarydevelopment could take place where the sinewy and vital thought oftheir own nation was set aside as unworthy of consideration. Theesthetic sense dwindled and pined. Standards of judgment altered. The capacity for discrimination lessened. Theological quibblingmade much of the literature of the day, though there was much morethan quibbling. But the keenest minds, no matter how vivid andbeautiful their intelligence, were certain that neither man as abody, nor the world as a home, were anything but lack evils, ruined by the fall of Adam, and to be ignored and despised withevery power and faculty. Faith in God came to be faith in "amicroscopic and picayune Providence, " governing the meanest detailof the elect's existence, and faith in man had no place in anyscheme of life or thought. If a poem were written it came to bemerely some transcription from the Bible, or an epitaph or elegyon some departed saint. 

In spite of themselves, however, humor, the Saxon birthright, refused to be suppressed, and asserted itself in unexpected ways, asin Nathaniel Ward's "Simple Cobbler of Agawam, " already mentioned. What the cobbler saw was chiefly the theological difficulties of thetime. Discord and confusion seemed to have settled upon the earth, and "looking out over English Christendom, he saw nothing but achaos of jangling opinions, upstart novelties, lawless manners, illimitable changes in codes, institutions and creeds. " He declaimsferociously against freedom of opinion, and "the fathers of theinquisition might have reveled over the first twenty-five pages ofthis Protestant book, that actually blaze with the eloquent savageryand rapture of religious intolerance. " He laughed in the midst ofthis declamation, but it was rather a sardonic laugh, and soonchecked by fresh consideration of man's vileness. 

Liberty had received many a blow from the hands of these men, whohad fled from home and country to secure it, but it could not diewhile their own principles were remembered, and constantly at onepoint or another, irrepressible men and women rose up, bent uponfree thought and free speech, and shaming even the most determinedand intolerant spirit. One of such men, outspoken by nature, recorded his mind in some two thousand printed pages, and RogerWilliams even to-day looms up with all the more power because wehave become "rather fatigued by the monotony of so vast a throngof sages and saints, all quite immaculate, all equally prim andstiff in their Puritan starch and uniform, all equally automaticand freezing. " It is most comfortable to find anyone defying therigid and formal law of the time, whether spoken or implied, andwe have positive "relief in the easy swing of this man's gait, thelimberness of his personal movement, his escape from thepasteboard proprieties, his spontaneity, his impetuosity, hisindiscretions, his frank acknowledgements that he really had a fewthings yet to learn. " He demanded spiritual liberty, and though, as time went on, he learned to use gentler phrases, he was alwaysa century or two ahead of his age. The mirthfulness of his earlydays passed, as well it might, but a better possession--cheerfulness--remained to the end. Exile never embittered him, andthe writings that are his legacy "show an habitual upwardness ofmental movement; they grow rich in all gentle, gracious, andmagnanimous qualities as the years increase upon him. "

His influence upon New England was a profound one, and the seedsown bore fruit long after his mortal body had crumbled into dust;but it was chiefly in theological lines, to which all thought nowtended. Poetry, so far as drama or lyric verse was concerned, hadbeen forsworn by the soul of every true Puritan, but "of coursepoetry was planted there too deep even for his theological grub-hooks to root out. If, however, his theology drove poetry out ofmany forms in which it has been used to reside, poetry itselfpracticed a noble revenge by taking up its abode in his theology. "Stedman gives a masterly analysis of this time in the openingessay of his "Victorian Poets, " showing the shackles all mindswore, and comparing the time when "even nature's laws werecompelled to bow to church fanaticism, " to the happier day inwhich "science, freedom of thought, refinement and materialprogress have moved along together. "

We have seen how the power of keen and delicate literary judgmentor discrimination died insensibly. The first era of literarydevelopment passed with the first founders of the Republic, andoriginal thought and expression lay dormant, save in theologicaldirections. As with all new forms of life, the second stage was animitative one, and the few outside the clergy who essayed writingat all copied the worst models of the Johnsonian period. Verse wasstill welcome, and the verse-makers of the colonial time weremany. Even venerable clergymen like Peter Bulkley gave way to itsinfluence. Ostensible poems were written by more than onegovernor; John Cotton yielded to the spell, though he hid the factdiscreetly by writing his English verses in Greek characters, andconfining them to the blank leaves of his almanac. Debarred fromordinary amusements or occupations, the irrepressible need ofexpression effervesced in rhymes as rugged and unlovely as thewriters, and ream upon ream of verse accumulated. Had it foundpermanent form, our libraries would have been even more encumberedthan at present, but fortunately most of it has perished. Elegiesand epitaphs were its favorite method, and the "most elaborate andpainful jests, " every conceivable and some inconceivable quirksand solemn puns made up their substance. The obituary poet of thepresent is sufficiently conspicuous in the daily papers which areavailable for his flights, but the leading poets of to-day do notfeel that it is incumbent upon them to evolve stanzas in a casualway on every mournful occasion. In that elder day allegories, anagrams, acrostics--all intended to have a consolatory effect onmourning friends--flowed from every clerical pen, adding a newterror to death and a new burden to life, but received by thereaders with a species of solemn glee. Of one given to this habitCotton Mather writes that he "had so nimble a faculty of puttinghis devout thoughts into verse that he signalized himselfby . . . Sending poems to all persons, in all places, on alloccasions . . . Wherein if the curious relished the piety sometimesrather than the poetry, the capacity of the most therein to beaccommodated must be considered. " Another poet had presentlythe opportunity to "embalm his memory in some congenial verses, "and wrote an epitaph, and ended with a full description of--

 "His care to guide his flock and feed his lambs, By words, works, prayers, psalms, alms and anagrams. "

To this period belongs a poetic phenomenon--a metrical horrorknown as "The Bay Psalm Book, " being the first English book everissued from an American printing-press. Tyler has given with hisaccustomed happy facility of phrase the most truthful descriptionyet made of a production that formed for years the chief poeticalreading of the average New Englander, and undoubtedly did more tolower taste and make inferior verse seem praiseworthy than any andall other causes. He writes: "In turning over these venerablepages, one suffers by sympathy something of the obvious toil ofthe undaunted men who, in the very teeth of nature, did all this;and whose appalling sincerity must, in our eyes, cover a multitudeof such sins as sentences wrenched about end for end, clausesheaved up and abandoned in chaos, words disemboweled or splitquite in two in the middle, and dissonant combinations of soundthat are the despair of such poor vocal organs as are granted tohuman beings. The verses seem to have been hammered out on ananvil, by blows from a blacksmith's sledge. In all parts of thebook is manifest the agony it cost the writers to find two wordsthat would rhyme---more or less; and so often as this arduous featis achieved, the poetic athlete appears to pause awhile from sheerexhaustion, panting heavily for breath. Let us now read, for ourimprovement, a part of the Fifty-eighth Psalm:

 "The wicked are estranged from the womb, they goe astray as soon as ever they are borne, uttering lyes are they. Their poyson's like serpents' poyson, they like deafe Aspe her eare that stops. Though Charmer wisely charm, his voice she will not heare. Within their mouth, doe thou their teeth, break out, O God most strong, doe thou Jehovah, the great teeth break of the lions young. "

It is small wonder that Anne Bradstreet's poems struck the unhappyNew Englanders who had been limited to verse of this descriptionas the work of one who could be nothing less than the "TenthMuse. " When the first edition of her poems appeared, really in1650, though the date is usually given as 1642, a youngergeneration had come upon the scene. The worst hardships wereover. Wealth had accumulated, and the comfort which is thedistinguishing characteristic of New England homes to-day, waswell established. Harvard College was filled with bright youngscholars, in whom her work awakened the keenest enthusiasm; whohad insight enough to recognize her as the one shining example ofpoetic power in that generation, and who wrote innumerable elegiesand threnodies on her life and work. 

The elegy seems to have appealed more strongly to the Puritan mindthan any other poetical form, and they exhausted every verbaldevice in perpetuating the memory of friends who scarcely neededthis new terror added to a death already surrounded by a gloomthat even their strongest faith hardly dispelled. 

"Let groans inspire my quill, " one clerical twister of languagebegan, and another wrote with the painful and elephantinelightness which was the Puritan idea of humor, an epitaph whichmay serve as sufficient illustration of the whole unutterablydreary mass of verse:

 "Gospel and law in's heart had each its column; His head an index to the sacred volume; His very name a title page and next His life a commentary on the text. Oh, what a monument of glorious worth, When in a new edition he comes forth Without _erratas_ may we think he'll be, In leaves and covers of eternity. "

Better examples were before them, for books were imported freely, but minds had settled into the mould which they kept for more thanone generation, unaffected in slightest measure by the steadyprogress of thought in the old home. 

The younger writers were influenced to a certain degree by the newschool, but lacked power to pass beyond it. Pope was now in fulltide of success, and, with Thomson, Watts and Young, found hostsof sympathetic and admiring readers who would have turned inhorror from the pages of Shakespeare or the early dramatists. Themeasure adopted by Pope charmed the popular mind, and while ithelped to smooth the asperities of Puritan verse, became also theeasy vehicle of the commonplace. There were hints here and thereof something better to come, and in the many examples of verseremaining it is easy to discern a coming era of free thought andmore musical expression. Peter Folger had sent out from the fogsof Nantucket a defiant and rollicking voice; John Rogers and UrianOakes, both poets and both Harvard presidents, had done somethingbetter than mere rhyme, but it remained for another pastor, teacher and physician to sound a note that roused all New England. Michael Wigglesworth might have been immortal, could the geniusborn in him have been fed and trained by any of the "sane andmighty masters of English song"; but, born to the inheritance of anarrow and ferocious creed, with no power left to even admit theexistence of the beautiful, he was "forever incapable of givingutterance to his genius--except in a dialect unworthy of it, " andbecame simply "the explicit and unshrinking rhymer of the fivepoints of Calvinism. "

Cotton Mather describes him as "a feeble little shadow of a man. "He was "the embodiment of what was great, earnest and sad incolonial New England. " He was tenderly sympathetic, and his ownlife, made up mostly of sorrow and pain, filled him with longingto help others. "A sensitive, firm, wide-ranging, unrestingspirit, he looks out mournfully over the throngs of men that fillthe world, all of them totally depraved, all of them caught, fromfarthest eternity, in the adamantine meshes of God's decrees; themost of them also being doomed in advance by those decrees to anendless existence of ineffable torment; and upon this situation ofaffairs the excellent Michael Wigglesworth proposes to makepoetry. " His "Day of Doom, " a horribly realistic description ofevery terror of the expected judgment, was written in a swingingballad measure that took instant hold of the popular mind. No bookever printed in America has met with a proportionate commercialsuccess. "The eighteen hundred copies of the first edition weresold within a single year; which implies the purchase of a copy of'The Day of Doom' by at least every thirty-fifth person in NewEngland. . . . Since that time the book has been repeatedlypublished, at least once in England and at least eight times inAmerica, the last time being in 1867. "

It penetrated finally all parts of the country where Puritan faithor manners prevailed. It was an intellectual influence far beyondanything we can now imagine. It was learned by heart along withthe catechism, and for a hundred years was found on every book-shelf, no matter how sparsely furnished otherwise. Even after theRevolution, which produced the usual effect of all war in bringingin unrestrained thought, it was still a source of terror, andthrilled and prepared all readers for the equally fearful picturesdrawn by Edwards and his successors. 

It is fortunate, perhaps, that Anne Bradstreet did not live toread and be influenced by this poem, as simply candid in its formand conception as the "Last Judgements" of the early masters, andlike them, portraying devils with much more apparent satisfactionthan saints. There is one passage that deserves record as evidenceof what the Puritan faith had done toward paralyzing common sense, though there are still corners in the United States where it wouldbe read without the least sense of its grotesque horror. Thevarious classes of sinners have all been attended to, and now, awaiting the last relay of offenders--

 "With dismal chains, and strongest reins Like prisoners of hell, They're held in place before Christ's face, Till he their doom shall tell. These void of tears, but filled with fears, And dreadful expectation Of endless pains and scalding flames, Stand waiting for damnation. "

The saints have received their place and look with an ineffableand satisfied smirk on the despair of the sinners, all turning atlast to gaze upon the battalion of "reprobate infants, " describedin the same brisk measure:

 "Then to the bar all they drew near Who died in infancy, And never had, or good or bad, Effected personally. But from the womb unto the tomb Were straightway carried, Or, at the least, ere they transgressed-- Who thus began to plead. "

These infants, appalled at what lies before them, begin to firstargue with true Puritanic subtlety, and finding this useless, resort to pitiful pleadings, which result in a slight concession, though the unflinching Michael gives no hint of what either theJudge or his victims would regard as "the easiest room. " Theinfants receive their sentence with no further remark. 

 "You sinners are; and such a share As sinners may expect; Such you shall have, for I do save None but mine own elect. 

 Yet to compare your sin with their Who lived a longer time, I do confess yours is much less, Though every sin's a crime. 

 A crime it is; therefore in bliss You may not hope to dwell; But unto you I shall allow The easiest room in hell. "

In such faith the little Bradstreets were brought up, and theoldest, who became a minister, undoubtedly preached it with thegusto of the time, and quoted the final description of thesufferings of the lost, as an efficient argument with sinners:

 "Then might you hear them rend and tear The air with their outcries; The hideous noise of their sad voice, Ascendeth to the skies. They wring their hands, their cartiff-hands, And gnash their teeth for terror; They cry, they roar, for anguish sore, And gnaw their tongue for horror. But get away without delay; Christ pities not your cry; Depart to hell, there may you yell And roar eternally. 

 * * * * *

 "Die fain they would, if die they could, But death will not be had; God's direful wrath their bodies hath Forever immortal made. They live to lie in misery And bear eternal woe; And live they must whilst God is just That he may plague them so. "

Of the various literary children who may be said to have beennurtured on Anne Bradstreet's verses, three became leaders of NewEngland thought, and all wrote elegies on her death, one of themof marked beauty and power. It remained for a son of thesulphurous Wigglesworth, to leave the purest fragment of poetrythe epoch produced, the one flower of a life, which at once burieditself in the cares of a country pastorate and gave no furthersign of gift or wish to speak in verse. The poem records the fateof a gifted classmate, who graduated with him at Harvard, sailedfor England, and dying on the return voyage, was buried at sea. Itis a passionate lamentation, an appeal to Death, and at last aquiet resignation to the inevitable, the final lines having amusic and a pathos seldom found in the crabbed New England verse:

 "Add one kind drop unto his watery tomb; Weep, ye relenting eyes and ears; See, Death himself could not refrain, But buried him in tears. "

With him the eighteenth century opens, beyond which we have nopresent interest, such literary development as made part of AnneBradstreet's knowledge ending with the seventeenth. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

SOME PHASES OF EARLY COLONIAL LIFE. 

Much of the depression evident in Anne Bradstreet's earlier versescame from the circumstances of her family life. No woman couldhave been less fitted to bear absence from those nearest to her, and though her adhesive nature had made her take as deep root inIpswich, as if further change could not come, she welcomedanything that diminished the long separations, and made herhusband's life center more at home. One solace seems to have beenalways open to her, her longest poem, the "Four Monarchies, "showing her devotion to Ancient history and the thoroughness withwhich she had made it her own. Anatomy seems to have been studiedalso, the "Four Humours in Man's Constitution, " showing anintimate acquaintance with the anatomical knowledge of the day;but in both cases it was not, as one might infer from herreferences to Greek and Latin authors, from original sources. SirWalter Raleigh's "History of the World, " Archbishop Usher's"Annals of the World, " and Pemble's "Period of the PersianMonarchy, " were all found in Puritan libraries, though she mayhave had access to others while still in England. Pemble was inhigh favor as an authority in Biblical exposition, the title ofhis book being a stimulant to every student of the prophecies:"The Period of the Persian Monarchy, wherein sundry places ofEzra, Nehemiah and Daniel are cleared, Extracted, contracted andEnglished, (much of it out of Dr. Raynolds) by the late learnedand godly man, Mr. William Pemble, of Magdalen Hall, in Oxford. "

This she read over and over again, and many passages in her poemon the "Four Monarchies" are merely paraphrases of this andRaleigh's work, though before a second edition was printed she hadread Plutarch, and altered here and there as she saw fit tointroduce his rendering. Galen and Hippocrates, whom she mentionsfamiliarly, were known to her through the work of the "curiouslearned Crooke, " his "Description of the Body of Man, Collectedand Translated out of all the best Authors on Anatomy, especiallyout of Gasper, Banchinus, and A. Sourentius, " being familiar toall students of the day. 

If her muse could but have roused to a sense of what was going onabout her, and recorded some episodes which Winthrop dismisseswith a few words, we should be under obligations that time couldonly deepen. Why, for instance, could she not have given herwoman's view of that indomitable "virgin mother of Taunton, "profanely described by Governor Winthrop as "an ancient maid, oneMrs. Poole. She went late thither, and endured much hardships, andlost much cattle. Called, after, Taunton. "

Precisely why Mrs. Poole chose Tecticutt, afterward Titicut, forher venture is not known, but the facts of her rash experimentmust have been discussed at length, and moved less progressivemaids and matrons to envy or pity as the chance might be. But nota hint of this surprising departure can be found in any ofMistress Bradstreet's remains, and it stands, with no comment savethat of the diligent governor's faithful pen, as the first exampleof an action, to be repeated in these later days in prairie farmsand Western ranches by women who share the same spirit, thoughmore often young than "ancient" maids. But ancient, though in hercase a just enough characterization, was a term of reproach forany who at sixteen or eighteen at the utmost, remained unmarried, and our present custom of calling every maiden under forty, "girl" would have struck the Puritan mothers with a sense ofpreposterousness fully equal to ours at some of their doings. 

A hundred years passed, and then an appreciative kinsman, who hadlong enjoyed the fruit of her labors, set up "a faire slab, " stillto be seen in the old burying ground. 

 HERE RESTS THE REMAINS

 OF

 MRS. ELIZABETH POOL, A NATIVE OF OLD ENGLAND, Of good family, friends and prospects, all which she left in the prime of her life, to enjoy the religion of her conscience in this distant wilderness;

 A great proprietor of the township of Taunton, A chief promoter of its settlement and its incorporation 1639-40, about which time she settled near this spot; and, having employed the opportunity

 of her virgin state in piety, liberality and sanctity of manners, Died May 21st A. D. 1654, aged 65. 

 to whose memory

 this monument is gratefully erected by her next of kin, JOHN BORLAND, ESQUIRE, A. D. 1771. 

Undoubtedly every detail of this eccentric settlement was talkedover at length, as everything was talked over. Gossip never hadmore forcible reason for existence, for the church covenantcompelled each member to a practical oversight of his neighbor'sconcerns, the special clause reading: "We agree to keep mutualwatch and ward over one another. "

At first, united by a common peril, the dangers of this were lessperceptible. The early years held their own necessities fordiscussion, and the records of the time are full of matter thatAnne Bradstreet might have used had she known her opportunity. Shewas weighed down like every conscientious Puritan of the day notonly by a sense of the infinitely great, but quite as strenuouslyby the infinitely little. It is plain that she saw more clearlythan many of her time, and there are no indications in her worksof the small superstitions held by all. Superstition had changedits name to Providence, and every item of daily action wasbelieved to be under the constant supervision and interference ofthe Almighty. The common people had ceased to believe in fairiesand brownies, but their places had been filled by Satan's imps andmessengers, watchful for some chance to confound the elect. 

The faith in dreams and omens of every sort was not lessened bythe transferrence of the responsibility for them to the Lord, andthe superstition of the day, ended later in a credulity thataccepted the Salem Witchcraft delusion with all its horrors, believing always, that diligent search would discover, if not theLord's, then the devil's hand, working for the edification orconfounding of the elect. Even Winthrop does not escape, and inthe midst of wise suggestions for the management of affairssandwiches such a record as the following: "At Watertown there was(in the view of divers witnesses) a great combat between a mouseand a snake; and after a long fight, the mouse prevailed andkilled the snake. The pastor of Boston, Mr. Wilson, a verysincere, holy man, hearing of it, gave this interpretation: Thatthe snake was the devil; the mouse was a poor, contemptible, people, which God had brought hither, which should overcome Satanhere, and dispossess him of his kingdom. Upon the same occasion, he told the governor that, before he was resolved to come intothis country, he dreamed he was here, and that he saw a churcharise out of the earth, which grew up and became a marvelouslygoodly church. "

They had absolute faith that prayer would accomplish all things, even to strengthening a defective memory. Thomas Shepard, whoseautobiography is given in Young's "Chronicles of MassachusettsBay, " gave this incident in his life when a student and "ambitiousof learning and being a scholar; and hence, when I could not takenotes of the sermon I remember I was troubled at it, and prayedthe Lord earnestly that he would help me to note sermons; and Isee some cause of wondering at the Lord's providence therein; foras soon as ever I had prayed (after my best fashion) Him for it, Ipresently, the next Sabbath, was able to take notes, who theprecedent Sabbath, could do nothing at all that way. "

Anthony Thacher, whose story may have been told in person toGovernor Dudley's family, and whose written description of hisshipwreck, included in Young's "Chronicles, " is one of the mostpicturesque pieces of writing the time affords, wrote, with afaith that knew no question: "As I was sliding off the rock intothe sea the Lord directed my toes into a joint in the rock's side, as also the tops of some of my fingers, with my right hand, bymeans whereof, the wave leaving me, I remained so, hanging on therock, only my head above water. "

When individual prayer failed to accomplish a desired end, a fastand the united storming of heaven, never failed to bring victoryto the besiegers. Thus Winthrop writes: "Great harm was done incorn, (especially wheat and barley) in this month, by acaterpillar, like a black worm about an inch and a half long. Theyeat up first the blades of the stalk, then they eat up thetassels, whereupon the ear withered. It was believed by diversgood observers, that they fell in a great thunder shower, fordivers yards and other places, where not one of them was to beseen an hour before, were immediately after the shower almostcovered with them, besides grass places where they were not soeasily discerned. They did the most harm in the southernparts. . . . In divers places the churches kept a day of humiliation, and presently after, the caterpillars vanished away. "

Still another instance, the fame of which spread through the wholeColony and confounded any possible doubter, found record in the"Magnalia", that storehouse of fact so judiciously combined withfable that the author himself could probably never tell what hehad himself seen, and what had been gleaned from others. Mr. JohnWilson, the minister of the church at Boston until the arrival ofCotton, was journeying with a certain Mr. Adams, when tidings cameto the latter of the probably fatal illness of his daughter. "Mr. Wilson, looking up to heaven, began mightily to wrestle with Godfor the life of the young woman . . . Then, turning himself aboutunto Mr. Adams, 'Brother, ' said he, 'I trust your daughter shalllive; I believe in God she shall recover of this sickness. ' And soit marvelously came to pass, and she is now the fruitful mother ofseveral desirable children. "

Among the books brought over by John Winthrop the younger, was avolume containing the Greek testament, the Psalms, and the EnglishCommon Prayer, bound together, to which happened an accident, which was gravely described by the Governor in his daily historyof events:

"Decem 15. About this time there fell out a thing worthy ofobservation. Mr. Winthrop the younger, one of the magistrates, having many books in a chamber where there was corn of diverssorts, had among them one, wherein the Greek testament, the psalmsand the common prayer were bound together. He found the commonprayer eaten with mice, every leaf of it, and not any of the twoother touched, nor any other of his books, though there were abovea thousand. Not a Puritan of them all, unless it may be thegovernor himself, but believed that the mice were agents ofthe Almighty sent to testify His dissatisfaction with theobjectionable form of prayer, and not a fact in daily life butbecame more and more the working of Providence. Thus, as the goodgovernor records later:

"A godly woman of the church of Boston, dwelling sometimes inLondon, brought with her a parcel of very fine linen of greatvalue, which she set her heart too much upon, and had been atcharge to have it all newly washed, and curiously folded andpressed, and so left it in press in her parlor over night. She hada negro maid went into the room very late, and let fall some snuffof the candle upon the linen, so as by morning all the linen wasburned to tinder, and the boards underneath, and some stools and apart of the wainscot burned and never perceived by any in thehouse, though some lodged in the chamber overhead, and no ceilingbetween. But it pleased God that the loss of this linen did hermuch good, both in taking off her heart from worldly comforts, andin preparing her for a far greater affliction by the untimelydeath of her husband, who was slain not long after at Isle ofProvidence. "

The thrifty housewife's heart goes out to this sister, whose"curiously folded and pressed linen, " lavender-scented and fair, wasthe one reminder of the abounding and generous life from which shehad come. It may have been a comfort to consider its loss a directdispensation for her improvement, and by this time, natural causeswere allowed to have no existence save as they became tools of this"Wonder-working Providence. " It was the day of small things moreliterally than they knew, and in this perpetual consideration ofsmall things, the largeness of their first purpose dwindled andcontracted, and inconceivable pettiness came at last to be the sealupon much of their action. Mr. Johnson, a minister whose course iscommented upon by Bradford, excommunicated his brother and ownfather, for disagreement from him in certain points of doctrine, though the same zeal weakened when called upon to act against hiswife, who doubtless had means of influencing his judgment unknown tothe grave elders who remonstrated. But the interest was as strong inthe cut of a woman's sleeve as in the founding of a new Plantation. They mourned over their own degeneracy. "The former times werebetter than these, " the croakers sighed, and Governor Bradford wroteof this special case; "In our time his wife was a grave matron, andvery modest both in her apparel and all her demeanor, ready to anygood works in her place, and helpful to many, especially the poor, and an ornament to his calling. She was a young widow when hemarried her, and had been a merchant's wife by whom he had a goodestate, and was a godly woman; and because she wore such apparel asshe had been formerly used to, which were neither excessive norimmodest, for their chiefest exception were against her wearing ofsome whalebone in the bodice and sleeves of her gown, corked shoesand other such like things as the citizens of her rank then used towear. And although, for offence sake, she and he were willing toreform the fashions of them, so far as might be, without spoiling oftheir garments, yet it would not content them except they came fullup to their size. Such was the strictness or rigidness (as now theterm goes) of some in those times, as we can by experience and ofour own knowledge, show in other instances. "

Governor Bradford, who evidently leans in his own mind toward theside of Mistress Johnson, proceeds to show the undue severity ofsome of the brethren in Holland. "We were in the company of agodly man that had been a long time prisoner at Norwich for thiscause, and was by Judge Cooke set at liberty. After going into thecountry he visited his friends, and returning that way again to gointo the Low Countries by ship at Yarmouth, and so desired some ofus to turn in with him to the house of an ancient woman in thecity, who had been very kind and helpful to him in his sufferings. She knowing his voice, made him very welcome, and those with him. But after some time of their entertainment, being ready to depart, she came up to him and felt of his hand (for her eyes were dimwith age) and perceiving it was something stiffened with starch, she was much displeased and reproved him very sharply, fearing Godwould not prosper his journey. Yet the man was a plain countryman, clad in gray russet, without either welt or guard (as theproverb is) and the band he wore, scarce worth three-pence, madeof their own home-spinning; and he was godly and humble as he wasplain. What would such professors, if they were now living, say tothe excess of our times?"

Women spoke their minds much more freely in the early days thanlater they were allowed to, this same "ancient woman" ofAmsterdam, having a sister worker of equally uncompromising tongueand tendencies, who was, for her various virtues chosen asdeaconess, "and did them service for many years, though she wassixty years of age when she was chosen. She honored her place andwas an ornament to the congregation. She usually sat in aconvenient place in the congregation, with a little birchen rod inher hand, and kept little children in great awe from disturbingthe congregation. She did frequently visit the sick and weak, especially women, and, as there was need, called out maids andyoung women to watch and do them other helps as their necessitydid require; and if they were poor, she would gather relief forthem of those that were able, or acquaint the deacons; and she wasobeyed as a mother in Israel and an officer of Christ. "

Whether this dame had the same objection to starch as the more"ancient" one, is not recorded, but in any case she was not alone. Men and women alike, forswore the desired stiffness, retaining itonly in their opinions. By the time that Anne Bradstreet had settledin Andover, bodily indulgence so far as adornment or thegratification of appetite went, had become a matter for courts todecide upon. Whether Simon Bradstreet gave up the curling lockswhich, while not flowing to his shoulders as in Colonel Hutchinson'scase, still fell in thick rings about his neck, we have no means ofknowing. His wife would naturally protest against the cropping, brought about by the more extreme, "who put their own cropped headstogether in order to devise some scheme for compelling all otherheads to be as well shorn as theirs were. "

One of the first acts of John Endecott when again appointed governorof Massachusetts Bay, was "to institute a solemn association againstlong hair, " but his success was indifferent, as evidenced in many amoan from reverend ministers and deacons. John Eliot, one of thesweetest and most saintly spirits among them, wrote that it was a"luxurious feminine prolixity for men to wear their hair long and to. . . Ruffle their heads in excesses of this kind, " but in lateryears, with many another wearied antagonist of this abomination, added hopelessly--"the lust is insuperable. " Tobacco was fulminatedagainst with equal energy, but no decree of court could stamp outthe beloved vice. Winthrop yielded to it, but afterward renouncedit, and the ministers compared its smoke to the smoke ascending fromthe bottomless pit, but no denunciation could effectually bar itout, and tobacco and starch in the end asserted their right toexistence and came into constant use. A miraculous amount of energyhad been expended upon the heinousness of their use, and the veryfury of protest brought a reaction equally strong. Radical even inher conservatism, New England sought to bind in one, two hopelesslyincompatible conditions: intellectual freedom and spiritual slavery. Absolute obedience to an accepted formula of faith was hardly likelyto remain a fact for a community where thought was stimulated notonly by education and training but every circumstance of their dailylives. A people who had lived on intimate terms with the innermostcounsels of the Almighty, and who listened for hours on Sunday tospeculations on the component elements not only of the Almighty, butof all His works were, while apparently most reverential, losing allcapacity for reverence in any ancient sense. Undoubtedly this veryspeculation did much to give breadth and largeness, too much beliefpreparing the way, first, for no belief, and, at last, for a returnto the best in the old and a combination of certain features of thenew, which seems destined to make something better for practical aswell as spiritual life than the world has ever known. 

The misfortune of the early Puritan was in too rigid a creed, toosettled an assurance that all the revelation needed had beengiven. Unlike the Dunkard elders, who refused to formulate acreed, lest it should put them in a mental attitude that wouldhinder further glimpses of truth, they hastened to bind themselvesand all generations to come in chains, which began to rattlebefore the last link was forged. Not a Baptist, or Quaker, orAntinomian but gave himself to the work of protestation, and thedetermined effort to throw off the tyranny and presumption of menno wiser than he. Whippings, imprisonments and banishmentssilenced these spirits temporarily, but the vibration of particlesnever ceased, and we know the final result of such action. Nowonder that the silent work of disintegration, when it showeditself in the final apparent collapse of all creeds, was lookedupon with horrified amazement, and a hasty gathering up of all theold particles with a conviction that fusing and forging again wasas easy of accomplishment now as in the beginning. The attempt hasproved their error. 

Up to nearly the opening of the eighteenth century New Englandlife kept pace with the advances in England. There was constantcoming and going and a sense of common interests and common needs. But even before emigration practically ceased, the changes inmodes of speech were less marked than in the old home. Englishspeech altered in many points during the seventeenth century. Words dropped out of use, their places filled by a crowd ofclaimants, sometimes admitted after sharp scrutiny, as oftendenied, but ending in admitting themselves, as words have a trickof doing even when most thoroughly outlawed. But in New Englandthe old methods saw no reason for change. 

Forms of speech current in the England of the seventeenth centurycrystallized here and are heard to-day. "Yankeeisms" is theirpopular title, but the student of old English knows them rather as"Anglicisms. " "Since the year 1640 the New England race has notreceived any notable addition to its original stock, and to-daytheir Anglican blood is as genuine and unmixed as that of anycounty in England. "

Dr. Edward Freeman, in his "Impressions of America, " says of NewEngland particularly, the remark applying in part also to all theolder states: "When anything that seems strange to a Britishvisitor in American speech or American manners is not quite modernon the face of it, it is pretty certain to be something which wasonce common to the older and the newer England, but which thenewer England has kept, while the older England has cast itaside. " Such literature as had birth in New England adheredchiefly to the elder models, and has thus an archaic element thatbroader life and intercourse would have eliminated. The provincialstage, of feeble and uncertain, or stilled but equally uncertainexpression was at hand, but for the first generation or so thecolonists had small time to consider forms of speech. Theirpassion for knowledge, however, took on all the vitality that hadforsaken English ground, and that from that day to this, has madethe first thought of every New England community, East or West, aschool. Their corner-stone "rested upon a book. " It has beencalculated that there was one Cambridge graduate for every two-hundred and fifty inhabitants, and within six years from thelanding of John Winthrop and his party, Harvard College had begunits work of baffling "that old deluder, Sathan, " whose business inpart it was "to keep men from the knowledge of the Scriptures. " Tosecular learning they were indifferent, but every man must be ableto give reason for the faith that was in him, and the more tonguesin which such statement could be made the more confusion for thisoften embarrassed but still undismayed Sathan. Orders of nobilityamong them had passed. Very rarely were they joined by even asimple "Sir, " and as years went on, nobility came to be synonymouswith tyranny, and there was less and less love for every owner ofa title. To them the highest earthly distinction came to be foundin the highest learning. The earnest student deserved and obtainedall the honors that man could give him, and his epitaph evenrecorded the same solemn and deep-seated admiration. "The ashes ofan hard student, a good scholar, and a great Christian. "

Anne Bradstreet shared this feeling to the full, and might easilyhave been the mother of whom Mather writes as saying to her littleboy: "Child, if God make thee a good Christian and a good scholar, thou hast all that thy mother ever asked for thee. " SimonBradstreet became both, and in due time pleased his mother byturning sundry of her "Meditations" into Latin prose, in whichstately dress they are incorporated in her works. The New Englandwoman kept up as far as possible the same pursuits in which shehad been trained, and among others the concoction of innumerabletinctures and waters, learned in the 'still-room' of everysubstantial English home. Room might have given place to a merecorner, but the work went on with undiminished interest andenthusiasm. There were few doctors, and each family had its ownspecial formulas--infallible remedies for all ordinary diseasesand used indiscriminately and in combination where a case seemedto demand active treatment. They believed in their own medicinesabsolutely, and required equal faith in all upon whom theybestowed them. 

Sturdy English stock as were all these New England dames, andblessed with a power of endurance which it required more than onegeneration to lessen, they were as given to medicine-taking astheir descendants of to-day, and fully as certain that their ownparticular prescription was more efficacious than all the rest puttogether. Anne Bradstreet had always been delicate, and as timewent on grew more and more so. The long voyage and confinement tosalt food had developed certain tendencies that never afterwardleft her, and there is more than a suspicion that scurvy hadattacked her among the rest. Every precaution was taken byGovernor Winthrop to prevent such danger for those who came later, and he writes to his wife, directing her preparations for thevoyage: "Be sure to be warme clothed & to have store of freshprovisions, meale, eggs putt up in salt or ground mault, butter, ote meal, pease & fruits, & a large strong chest or 2, welllocked, to keep these provisions in; & be sure they be bestowed inthe shippe where they may be readyly come by. . . . Be sure to haveready at sea 2 or 3 skilletts of several syzes, a large fryingepanne, a small stewinge panne, & a case to boyle a pudding in;store of linnen for use at sea, & sacke to bestow among thesaylors: some drinking vessells & peuter & other vessells. "

Dr. Nathaniel Wright, a famous physician of Hereford, and privatephysician to Oliver Cromwell for a time, had given Winthrop varioususeful prescriptions, and his medicines were in general use, Winthrop adding in this letter: "For physick you shall need noother but a pound of Doctor Wright's _Electuariu lenitivu_, & hisdirection to use it, a gallon of scirvy grasse, to drink a litle 5or 6 morninges together, with some saltpeter dissolved in it, & alittle grated or sliced nutmeg. "

Dr. Wright's prescriptions were supplemented by a collectionprepared for him by Dr. Edward Stafford of London, all of whichwere used with great effect, the governor's enthusiasm for medicalreceipts and amateur practice, passing on through severalgenerations. A letter to his son John at Ispwich contains some ofhis views and a prescription for pills which were undoubtedlytaken faithfully by Mistress Anne and administered as faithfullyto the unwilling Simon, who like herself suffered from one or twoattacks of fever. The colonists were, like all breakers of newground, especially susceptible to fevers of every variety, andGovernor Winthrop writes anxiously: "You must be very careful oftaking cold about the loins; & when the ground is open, I willsend you some pepper-wort roots. For the flux, there is no bettermedicine than the cup used two or three times, &, in case ofsudden torments, a clyster of a quart of water boiled to a pint, which, with the quantity of two or three nutmegs of saltpetreboiled in it, will give present ease. 

"For the pills, they are made of grated pepper, made up withturpentine, very stiff, and some flour withal; and four or fivetaken fasting, & fast two hours after. But if there be any feverwith the flux, this must not be used till the fever is removed bythe cup. "

Each remedy bears the internal warrant of an immediate need for afresh one, and it is easy to see from what source the nationallove of patent medicines has been derived. Another prescriptionfaithfully tried by both giver and receiver, and which AnneBradstreet may have tested in her various fevers, was sent to JohnWinthrop, Jr. , by Sir Kenelm Digby and may be found with variousother singularities in the collections of the MassachusettsHistorical Society. "For all sorts of agues, I have of late triedthe following magnetical experiment with infallible success. Parethe patient's nails when the fit is coming on, and put the paringsinto a little bag of fine linen or sarsenet, and tie that about alive eel's neck in a tub of water. The eel will die and thepatient will recover. And if a dog or hog eat that eel, they willalso die. I have known one that cured all deliriums and frenzieswhatsoever, and at once taking, with an elixer made of dew, nothing but dew purified & nipped up in a glass & digested 15months till all of it was become a gray powder, not one drop ofhumidity remaining. This I know to be true, & that first it was asblack as ink, then green, then gray, & at 22 month's end it was aswhite & lustrous as any oriental pearl. But it cured manias at 15months' end. "

The mania for taking it or anything else sufficiently mysteriousand unpleasant to give a value to its possession remains to thisday. But the prescriptions made up by the chief magistrate had adouble efficacy for a time that believed a king's touch heldinstant cure for the king's evil, and that the ordinary marksknown to every physician familiar with the many phases ofhysteria, were the sign-manual of witches. The good governor'slist of remedies had been made up from the Stafford prescriptions, the diseases he arranged to deal with being "plague, smallpox, fevers, king's evil, insanity, and falling sickness, " besidesbroken bones and all ordinary injuries. 

Simples and mineral drugs are used indiscriminately, and there isone remedy on which Dr. Holmes comments, in an essay on "TheMedical Profession in Massachusetts, " "made by putting live toadsinto an earthern pot so as to half fill it, and baking and burningthem 'in the open ayre, not in a house'--concerning which latterpossibility I suspect Madam Winthrop would have had something tosay--until they could be reduced by pounding, first into a brownand then into a black, powder. " This powder was the infallibleremedy "against the plague, small-pox; purples, all sorts offeavers; Poyson; either by way of Prevention or after Infection. "Consumption found a cure in a squirrel, baked alive and alsoreduced to a Powder, and a horrible witches' broth of earth-wormsand other abominations served the same purpose. The governor makesno mention of this, but he gives full details of an electuary ofmillipedes, otherwise sowbugs, which seems to have been used withdistinguished success. Coral and amber were both powdered and usedin special cases, and antimony and nitre were handled freely, withrhubarb and the whole series of ancient remedies. The Winthroppapers hold numberless letters from friends and patientstestifying to the good he had done them or begging for furtherbenefactions, one of these from the agitator, Samuel Gostun, whoat eighty-two had ceased to trouble himself over anything but hisown infirmities, holding a wonder how "a thing so little inquantity, so little in sent, so little in taste, and so little tosence in operation, should beget and bring forth such efects. "

These prescriptions were handed down through four generations ofWinthrops, who seem to have united law and medicine, a union lesscommon than that of divinity and medicine. 

Michael Wigglesworth, whom we know best through his "Day of Doom, "visited and prescribed for the sick, "not only as a Pastor but asa Physician too, and this not only in his own town, but also inall those of the vicinity. " But this was in later days, when JohnEliot's desire had been accomplished, written to the Rev. Mr. Shepard in 1647: "I have thought in my heart that it were a verysingular good work, if the Lord would stirre up the hearts of someor other of his people in England, to give some maintenance towardsome Schoole or Collegiate exercise this way, wherein there shouldbe Anatomies and other instructions that way, and where theremight be some recompense given to any that should bring in anyvegetable or other thing that is vertuous in the way of Physick. There is another reason which moves my thought and desires thisway, namely, that our young students in Physick may be trained upbetter than they yet bee, who have onely theoreticall knowledge, and are forced to fall to practice before ever they saw an Anatomymade, or duely trained up in making experiments, for we never hadbut one Anatomy in the countrey. "

This anatomy had been made by Giles Firmin, who was the friend ofWinthrop and of the Bradstreet's, and who found the practice ofmedicine so little profitable that he wrote to the former: "I amstrongly set upon to studye divinity; my studyes else must belost, for physick is but a meene helpe. " A "meene helpe" it provedfor many years, during which the Puritan dames steeped herbs andmade ointments and lotions after formulas learned in the still-room at home. The little Bradstreet's doubtless swallowed theirfull share, though fortunately blessed for the most part with thesturdy constitution of their father, who, save for a fever or two, escaped most of the sicknesses common to the colonists and livedthrough many serene and untroubled years of physical and mentalhealth, finding life enjoyable even at four-score and ten. 

CHAPTER IX. 

ANDOVER. 

What causes may have led to the final change of location we haveno means of knowing definitely, save that every Puritan desired toincrease the number of churches as much as possible; a tendencyinherited to its fullest by their descendants. On the 4th ofMarch, 1634-5, "It is ordered that the land aboute Cochichowicke, shall be reserved for an inland plantacon, & that whosoever willgoe to inhabite there, shall have three yeares imunity from alltaxes, levyes, publique charges & services whatsoever, (millitarydissipline onely excepted), etc. "

Here is the first suggestion of what was afterward to becomeAndover, but no action was taken by Bradstreet until 1638, when inlate September, "Mr. Bradstreet, Mr. Dudley, Junior, CaptainDennison, Mr. Woodbridge and eight others, are allowed (upon theirpetition) to begin a plantation at Merrimack. "

This plantation grew slowly. The Bradstreets lingered at Ipswich, and the formal removal, the last of many changes, did not takeplace until September, 1644. Simon Bradstreet, the second son, afterward minister at New London, Conn. , whose manuscript diary isa curious picture of the time, gives one or two details which aidin fixing the date. 

"1640. I was borne N. England, at Ipswitch, Septem. 28 beingMunday 1640. 

"1651. I had my Education in the same Town at the free School, themaster of w'ch was my ever respected ffreind Mr. EzekiellCheevers. My Father was removed from Ipsw. To Andover, before Iwas putt to school, so yt my schooling was more chargeable. "

The thrifty spirit of his grandfather Dudley is shown in the finalline, but Simon Bradstreet the elder never grudged the cost ofanything his family needed or could within reasonable boundsdesire, and stands to-day as one of the most signal early examplesof that New England woman's ideal, "a good provider. "

Other threads were weaving themselves into the "sad-colored" webof daily life, the pattern taking on new aspects as the days wenton. Four years after the landing of the Arbella and her consorts, one of the many bands of Separatists, who followed their lead, came over, the celebrated Thomas Parker, one of the chief amongthem, and his nephew, John Woodbridge, an equally important thoughless distinguished member of the party. They took up land atNewbury, and settled to their work of building up a new home, asif no other occupation had ever been desired. 

The story of John Woodbridge is that of hundreds of young Puritanswho swelled the tide of emigration that between 1630 and 1640literally poured into the country, "thronging every ship thatpointed its prow thitherward. " Like the majority of them, he wasof good family and of strong individuality, as must needs be wherea perpetual defiance is waged against law and order as it showeditself to the Prelatical party. He had been at Oxford and wouldhave graduated, but for his own and his father's unwillingnessthat he should take the oath of conformity required, and in themidst of his daily labor, he still hoped privately to become oneof that ministry, who were to New England what the House of Lordsrepresented to the old. Prepossessing in appearance, with asingularly mild and gentle manner, he made friends on all sides, and in a short time came to be in great favor with GovernorDudley, whose daughter Mercy was then nearly the marriagable ageof the time, sixteen. The natural result followed, and MercyDudley, in 1641, became Mercy Woodbridge, owning that name forfifty years, and bearing, like most Puritan matrons, manychildren, with the well marked traits that were also part of thetime. 

The young couple settled quietly at Newbury, but his aspirationwas well known and often discussed by the many who desired to seethe churches increased with greater speed. Dudley was one of themost earnest workers in this direction, but there is a suggestionthat the new son-in-law's capacity for making a good bargain hadinfluenced his feelings, and challenged the admiration all goodNew Englanders have felt from the beginning for any "fore handed"member of their community. This, however, was only a weaknessamong many substantial virtues which gave him a firm place in thememory of his parishioners. But the fact that after he resignedhis ministry he was recorded as "remarkably blest in privateestate, " shows some slight foundation for the suggestion, andgives solid ground for Dudley's special interest in him. 

A letter is still in existence which shows this, as well asDudley's entire willingness to take trouble where a benefit toanyone was involved. Its contents had evidently been the subjectof very serious consideration, before he wrote:

SON WOODBRIDGE:

On your last going from Rocksbury, I thought you would havereturned again before your departure hence, and therefore neitherbade you farewell, nor sent any remembrance to your wife. Sincewhich time I have often thought of you, and of the course of yourlife, doubting you are not in the way wherein you may do God bestservice. Every man ought (as I take it) to serve God in such a waywhereto he had best filled him by nature, education or gifts, orgraces acquired. Now in all these respects I concieve you to bebetter fitted for the ministry, or teaching a school, than forhusbandry. And I have been lately stirred up the rather to thinkthereof by occasion of Mr. Carter's calling to be pastor at Woburnthe last week, and Mr. Parker's calling to preach at Pascattaway, whose abilities and piety (for aught I know) surmount not yours. There is a want of school-masters hereabouts, and ministers are, or in likelihood will be, wanting ere long. I desire that youwould seriously consider of what I say, and take advise of youruncle, Mr. Nayse, or whom you think meetest about it; withalconsidering that no man's opinion in a case wherein he isinterested by reason of your departure from your presenthabitation is absolutely to be allowed without comparing hisreason with others. And if you find encouragement, I think youwere best redeem what time you may without hurt of your estate, inperfecting your former studies. Above all, commend the case inprayer to God, that you may look before you with a sincere eyeupon his service, not upon filthy lucre, which I speak not so muchfor any doubt I have of you, but to clear myself from thatsuspicion in respect of the interest I have in you. I need say nomore. The Lord direct and bless you, your wife and children, whomI would fain see, and have again some thoughts of it, if I livetill next summer. 

 Your very loving father, THOMAS DUDLEY. Rocksbury, November 28, 1642. To my very loving son, Mr. John Woodbridge, at his house in Newbury. 

As an illustration of Dudley's strong family affection the letteris worth attention, and its advice was carried out at once. Thecelebrated Thomas Parker, his uncle, became his instructor, andfor a time the young man taught the school in Boston, until fixedupon as minister for the church in Andover, which in some sensesowes its existence to his good offices. The thrifty habits whichhad made it evident in the beginning to the London Company thatSeparatists were the only colonists who could be trusted to managefinances properly, had not lessened with years, and had seldom hadmore thorough gratification than in the purchase of Andover, ownedthen by Cutshamache "Sagamore of ye Massachusetts. "

If he repented afterward of his bargain, as most of them did, there is no record, but for the time being he was satisfied with"ye sume of L6 & a coate, " which the Rev. John Woodbridge dulypaid over, the town being incorporated under the name of Andoverin 1646, as may still be seen in the Massachusetts Colony Records, which read: "At a general Court at Boston 6th of 3d month, 1646, Cutshamache, Sagamore of Massachusetts, came into the court andacknowledged that, for the sum of L6 and a coat which he hadalready received, he had sold to Mr. John Woodbridge, in behalf ofthe inhabitants of Cochichewick, now called Andover, all theright, interest and privilege in the land six miles southward fromthe town, two miles eastward to Rowley bounds, be the same more orless; northward to Merrimack river, provided that the Indiancalled Roger, and his company, may have liberty to take alewivesin Cochichewick river for their own eating; but if they eitherspoil or steal any corn or other fruit to any considerable valueof the inhabitants, the liberty of taking fish shall forevercease, and the said Roger is still to enjoy four acres of groundwhere now he plants. "

Punctuation and other minor matters are defied here, as in manyother records of the time, but it is plain that Cutshamacheconsidered that he had made a good bargain, and that the Rev. JohnWoodbridge, on his side was equally satisfied. 

The first settlements were made about Cochichewick Brook, a "fairspringe of sweet water. " The delight in the cold, clear NewEngland water comes up at every stage of exploration in the earlyrecords. In the first hours of landing, as Bradford afterwardwrote, they "found springs of fresh water of which we wereheartily glad, and sat us down and drunk our first New Englandwater, with as much delight as ever we drunk drink in all ourlives. "

"The waters are most pure, proceeding from the entrails of rockymountains, " wrote John Smith in his enthusiastic description, andFrancis Higginson was no less moved. "The country is full ofdainty springs, " he wrote, "and a sup of New England's air isbetter than a whole draught of old England's ale. " The "NewEnglish Canaan" recorded: "And for the water it excelleth Canaanby much; for the land is so apt for fountains, a man cannot digamiss. Therefore if the Abrahams and Lots of our time comethither, there needs be no contention for wells. In the delicacyof waters, and the conveniency of them, Canaan came not near thiscountry. " Boston owed its first settlement to its "sweet andpleasant springs, " and Wood made it a large inducement toemigration, in his "New England's Prospect. " "The country is aswell watered as any land under the sun; every family or every twofamilies, having a spring of sweet water betwixt them. It isthought there can be no better water in the world. " New Englandersstill hold to this belief, and the soldier recalls yet the visionof the old well, or the bubbling spring in the meadow thattantalized and mocked his longing in the long marches, or in thehospital wards of war time. 

The settlement gathered naturally about the brook, and buildingbegan vigorously, the houses being less hastily constructed thanin the first pressure of the early days, and the meeting-housetaking precedence of all. 

Even, however, with the reverence inwrought in the very name ofminister we must doubt if Anne Bradstreet found the Rev. JohnWoodbridge equal to the demand born in her, by intercourse withsuch men as Nathaniel Ward or Nathaniel Rogers, or that he couldever have become full equivalent for what she had lost. With herintense family affection, she had, however, adopted him at once, and we have very positive proof of his deep interest in her, which showed itself at a later date. This change from simple"husbandman" to minister had pleased her pride, and like allministers he had shared the hardships of his congregation andknown often sharp privation. It is said that he was the second oneordained in New England, and like most others his salary for yearswas paid half in wheat and half in coin, and his life divideditself between the study and the farm, which formed the chiefsupport of all the colonists. His old record mentions how heendeared himself to all by his quiet composure and patience andhis forgiving temper. He seems to have yearned for England, andthis desire was probably increased by his connection with theDudley family. Anne Bradstreet's sympathies, in spite of all hertheories and her determined acceptance of the Puritan creed, werestill monarchical, and Mercy would naturally share them. Dudleyhimself never looked back, but the "gentlewoman of fortune" whomhe married, was less content, and her own hidden longing showeditself in her children. Friends urged the young preacher toreturn, which he did in 1647, leaving wife and children behindhim, his pastorate having lasted but a year. There is a letter ofDudley's, written in 1648, addressed to him as "preacher of theword of God at Andover in Wiltshire, " and advising him of whatmeans should be followed to send his wife and children, but ourchief interest in him lies in the fact, that he carried with himthe manuscript of Anne Bradstreet's poems, which after greatdelay, were published at London in 1650. He left her a quiet, practically unknown woman, and returned in 1662, to find her aswidely praised as she is now forgotton; the "Tenth Muse, Latelysprung up in America. "

What part of them were written in Andover there is no means ofknowing, but probably only a few of the later ones, not includedin the first edition. The loneliness and craving of her Ipswichlife, had forced her to composition as a relief, and the majorpart of her poems were written before she was thirty years old, and while she was still hampered by the methods of the few sheknew as masters. With the settling at Andover and the satisfyingcompanionship of her husband, the need of expression graduallydied out, and only occasional verses for special occasions, seemto have been written. The quiet, busy life, her own ill-health, and her absorption in her children, all silenced her, and thus, the work that her ripened thought and experience might have madeof some value to the world, remained undone. The religious lifebecame more and more the only one of any value to her, and she mayhave avoided indulgence in favorite pursuits, as a measure againstthe Adversary whose temptations she recorded. Our interest atpresent is in these first Andover years, and the course of lifeinto which the little community settled, the routine holding itsown interpretation of the silence that ensued. The first sharpbereavement had come, a year or so before the move was absolutelydetermined upon, Mrs. Dudley dying late in December of 1643, atRoxbury, to which they had moved in 1639, and her epitaph aswritten by her daughter Anne, shows what her simple virtues hadmeant for husband and children. 

 AN EPITAPH

 ON MY DEAR AND EVER-HONORED MOTHER, MRS. DOROTHY DUDLEY, WHO DECEASED DECEMB 27 1643, AND OF HER AGE 61. 

 Here lyes A worthy Matron of unspotted life, A loving Mother and obedient wife, A friendly Neighbor pitiful to poor, Whom oft she fed and clothed with her store, To Servants wisely aweful but yet kind, And as they did so they reward did find; A true Instructer of her Family, The which she ordered with dexterity. The publick meetings ever did frequent, And in her Closet constant hours she spent; Religious in all her words and wayes Preparing still for death till end of dayes; Of all her Children, Children lived to see, Then dying, left a blessed memory. "

There is a singular aptitude for marriage in these old Puritans. They "married early, and if opportunity presented, married often. "Even Governor Winthrop, whose third marriage lasted for thirtyyears, and whose love was as deep and fervent at the end as in thebeginning, made small tarrying, but as his biographer delicatelyputs it, "he could not live alone, and needed the support andcomfort which another marriage could alone afford him. " He didmourn the faithful Margaret a full year, but Governor Dudley hadfewer scruples and tarried only until the following April, marrying then Catherine, widow of Samuel Hackburne, the first sonof this marriage, Joseph Dudley, becoming even more distinguishedthan his father, being successively before his death, Governor ofMassachusetts, Lieutenant Governor of the Isle of Wight, and firstChief Justice of New York, while thirteen children handed on thename. The first son, Samuel, who married a daughter of GovernorWinthrop, and thus healed all the breaches that misunderstandinghad made, was the father of eighteen children, and all through theold records are pictures of these exuberant Puritan families. Benjamin Franklin was one of seventeen. Sir William Phipps, theson of a poor gunsmith at Pemaquid, and one of the first and mostnotable instances of our rather tiresome "self-made men, " was oneof twenty-six, twenty-one being sons, while Roger Clapp ofDorchester, handed down names that are in themselves the story ofPuritanism, his nine, being Experience, Waitstill, Preserved, Hopestill, Wait, Thanks, Desire, Unite and Supply. The last nametypifies the New England need, and Tyler, whose witty yetsympathetic estimate of the early Puritans is yet to be surpassed, writes: "It hardly needs to be mentioned after this, that theconditions of life there were not at all those for which Malthussubsequently invented his theory of inhospitality to infants. Population was sparce; work was plentiful; food was plentiful; andthe arrival in the household of a new child was not the arrival ofa new appetite among a brood of children already half-fed--it wasrather the arrival of a new helper where help was scarcer thanfood; it was, in fact, a fresh installment from heaven of whatthey called, on Biblical authority, the very 'heritage of theLord. ' The typical household of New England was one of patriarchalpopulousness. Of all the sayings of the Hebrew Psalmist--except, perhaps, the damnatory ones--it is likely that they rejoiced mostin those which expressed the Davidic appreciation of multitudinouschildren: 'As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man, so arechildren of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver fullof them; they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with theenemies in the gate. ' The New Englanders had for many years quitea number of enemies in the gate, whom they wished to be able tospeak with, in the unabashed manner intimated by the devoutwarrior of Israel. "

Hardly a town in New England holds stronger reminders of the past, or has a more intensely New England atmosphere than Andover, wherein the same decorous and long-winded discussions of fate, fore-knowledge and all things past and to come, still goes on, assteadily as if the Puritan debaters had merely transmigrated, notpassed over, to a land which even the most resigned and submissivesoul would never have wished to think of as a "Silent Land. " Allthat Cambridge has failed to preserve of the ancient spirit liveshere in fullest force, and it stands to-day as one of the fewrepresentatives remaining of the original Puritan faith andpurpose. Its foundation saw instant and vigorous protest, at asmall encroachment, which shows strongly the spirit of the time. Atemporary church at Rowley was suggested, while the future one wasbuilding, and Hubbard writes: "They had given notice thereof tothe magistrates and ministers of the neighboring churches, as themanner is with them in New England. The meeting of the assemblywas to be at that time at Rowley; the forementioned plantationsbeing but newly erected, were not capable to entertain them thatwere likely to be gathered together on that occasion. But whenthey were assembled, most of those who were to join together inchurch fellowship, at that time, refused to make confession oftheir faith and repentance, because, as was said, they declared itopenly before in other churches upon their admission into them. Whereupon the messengers of the churches not being satisfied, theassembly broke up, before they had accomplished what theyintended. "

English reticence and English obstinacy were both at work, the onehaving no mind to make a private and purely personal experiencetoo common; the other, resenting the least encroachment on theChristian liberty they had sought and proposed to hold. ByOctober, the messengers had decided to compromise, some form oftemporary church was decided upon, and the permanent one went upswiftly as hands could work. It had a bell, though nobody knowsfrom whence obtained, and it owned two galleries, one aboveanother, the whole standing till 1711, when a new and larger onebecame necessary, the town records describing, what must have beena building of some pretension, "50 feet long, 45 feet wide, and 24feet between joints"; and undoubtedly a source of great pride tobuilders and congregation. No trace of it at present remains, savethe old graveyard at the side, "an irregular lot, sparsely coveredwith ancient moss-grown stones, in all positions, straggling, broken and neglected, and overrun with tall grass and weeds. " Butin May, as the writer stood within the crumbling wall, the groundwas thick with violets and "innocents, " the grass sprung green andsoft and thick, and the blue sky bent over it, as full of hope andpromise as it seemed to the eyes that two hundred years before, had looked through tears, upon its beauty. From her windowMistress Bradstreet could count every slab, for the home she cameto is directly opposite, and when detained there by the manyillnesses she suffered in later days, she could, with openedwindows, hear the psalm lined out, and even, perhaps, follow theargument of the preacher. But before this ample and generous homerose among the elms, there was the usual period of discomfort andeven hardship. Simon Bradstreet was the only member of the littlesettlement who possessed any considerable property, but it isevident that he shared the same discomforts in the beginning. In1658 there is record of a house which he had owned, being sold toanother proprieter, Richard Sutton, and this was probably the log-house built before their coming, and lived in until the larger onehad slowly been made ready. 

The town had been laid out on the principle followed in all theearly settlements, and described in one of the early volumes ofthe Massachusetts Historical Society Collections. Four, or at theutmost, eight acres, constituted a homestead, but wood-lots andcommon grazing lands, brought the amount at the disposal of eachsettler to a sufficient degree for all practical needs. It isoften a matter of surprise in studying New England methods to findestates which may have been owned by the same family from thebeginning, divided in the most unaccountable fashion, a meadowfrom three to five miles from the house, and wood-lots and pastureat equally eccentric distances. But this arose from thenecessities of the situation. Homes must be as nearly side by sideas possible, that Indians and wild beasts might thus be lessdangerous and that business be more easily transacted. Thus thearrangement of a town was made always to follow this general plan:

"Suppose ye towne square 6 miles every waye. The houses orderlyplaced about ye midst especially ye meeting house, the which wewill suppose to be ye center of ye wholl circumference. Thegreatest difficulty is for the employment of ye parts most remote, which (if better direction doe not arise) may be this: the wholebeing 6 miles, the extent from ye meeting-house in ye center, willbe unto every side 3 miles; the one half whereof being 2500 pacesround about & next unto ye said center, in what condition soeverit lyeth, may well be distributed & employed unto ye house withinye compass of ye same orderly placed to enjoye comfortableconveniance. Then for that ground lying without, ye neerestcircumference may be thought fittest to be imployed in farmes intowhich may be placed skillful bred husbandmen, many or fewe as theymay be attayned unto to become farmers, unto such portions as eachof them may well and in convenient time improve according to theportion of stocke each of them may be intrusted with. "

House-lots would thus be first assigned, and then in proportion toeach of them, the farm lands, called variously, ox-ground, meadow-land, ploughing ground, or mowing land, double the amount beinggiven to the owner of an eight-acre house-lot, and such landsbeing held an essential part of the property. A portion of eachtownship was reserved as "common or undivided land, " not in thesense in which "common" is used in the New England village of to-day, but simply for general pasturage. With Andover, as with manyother of the first settlements, these lands were granted or soldfrom time to time up to the year 1800, when a final sale was made, and the money appropriated for the use of free schools. 

As the settlement became more secure, many built houses on thefarm lands, and removed from the town, but this was at firstperemptorily forbidden, and for many years after could not be donewithout express permission. Mr. Bradstreet, as magistrate, naturally remained in the town, and the new house, the admirationof all and the envy of a few discontented spirits, was watched asit grew, by its mistress, who must have rejoiced that at last someprospect of permanence lay before her. The log house in which shewaited, probably had not more than four rooms, at most, and forcedthem to a crowding which her ample English life had made doublydistasteful. She had a terror of fire and with reason, for whilestill at Cambridge her father's family had had in 1632 thenarrowest of escapes, recorded by Winthrop in his Journal: "Aboutthis time Mr. Dudley, his house, at Newtown, was preserved fromburning down, and all his family from being destroyed bygunpowder, by a marvellous deliverance--the hearth of the hallchimney burning all night upon a principal beam, and store ofpowder being near, and not discovered till they arose in themorning, and then it began to flame out. "

The thatch of the early house, which were of logs rilled in withclay, was always liable to take fire, the chimneys being of logsand often not clayed at the top. Dudley had warned against thiscarelessness in the first year of their coming, writing: "In ournew town, intended this summer to be builded, we have ordered, that no man there shall build his chimney with wood, nor cover hishouse with thatch, which was readily assented unto; for thatdivers houses since our arrival (the fire always beginning in thewooden chimneys), and some English wigwams, which have taken firein the roofs covered with thatch or boughs. " With every precaution, there was still constant dread of fire, and Anne must haverejoiced in the enormous chimney of the new house, heavilybuttressed, running up through the centre and showing in thegarret like a fortification. This may have been an enlargement onthe plan of the first, for the house now standing, took the placeof the one burned to the ground in July, 1666, but duplicated asexactly as possible, at a very short time thereafter. Doubts havebeen expressed as to whether she ever lived in it, but they havesmall ground for existence. It is certain that Dudley Bradstreetoccupied it, and it has been known from the beginning as the"Governor's house. " Its size fitted it for the large hospitality towhich she had been brought up and which was one of the necessitiesof their position, and its location is a conspicuous and importantone. 

Whatever temptation there may have been to set houses in the midstof grounds, and make their surroundings hold some reminder of thefair English homes they had left, was never yielded to. To be nearthe street, and within hailing distance of one another, was anecessity born of their circumstances. Dread of Indians, and needof mutual help, massed them closely together, and the townordinances forbade scattering. So the great house, as it must havebeen for long, stood but a few feet from the old Haverhill andBoston road, surrounded by mighty elms, one of which measured, twenty-five years ago, "sixteen and a half feet in circumference, at one foot above the ground, well deserving of mention in the'Autocrat's' list of famous trees. " The house faces the south, andhas a peculiar effect, from being two full stories high in front, and sloping to one, and that a very low one, at the back. Thedistance between caves and ground is here so slight, that one mayfancy a venturous boy in some winter when the snow had driftedhigh, sliding from ridge pole to ground, and even tempting a smalland ambitious sister to the same feat. Massive old timbers formthe frame of the house, and the enormous chimney heavilybuttressed on the four sides is exactly in the center, thefireplaces being rooms in themselves. The rooms at present arehigh studded, the floor having been sunk some time ago, but thedoors are small and low, indicating the former proportions andmaking a tall man's progress a series of bows. Some of the wallsare wainscotted and some papered, modern taste, the taste oftwenty-five years ago, having probably chosen to removewainscotting, as despised then as it is now desired. At the eastis a deep hollow through which flows a little brook, skirted byalders, "green in summer, white in winter, " where the Bradstreetchildren waded, and fished for shiners with a crooked pin, andmade dams, and conducted themselves in all points like thechildren of to-day. Beyond the brook rises the hill, on the slopeof which the meeting-house once stood, and where wild strawberriesgrew as they grow to-day. 

A dense and unbroken circle of woods must have surrounded thesettlement, and cut off many glimpses of river and hill that to-day make the drives about Andover full of surprise and charm. Slight changes came in the first hundred years. The great mills atLawrence were undreamed of and the Merrimack flowed silently tothe sea, untroubled by any of mans' uses. 

Today the hillsides are green and smooth. Scattered farms areseen, and houses outside the town proper are few, and the quietcountry gives small hint of the active, eager life so near it. In1810, Dr. Timothy Dwight, whose travels in America were read withthe same interest that we bestow now upon the "Merv Oasis, " or the"Land of the White Elephant, " wrote of North Andover, which thenheld many of its original features:

"North Andover is a very beautiful piece of ground. Its surface iselegantly undulating, and its soil in an eminent degree, fertile. The meadows are numerous, large and of the first quality. Thegroves, charmingly interspersed, are tall and thrifty. Thelandscape, everywhere varied, neat and cheerful, is alsoeverywhere rich. 

"The Parish is a mere collection of plantations, without anythinglike a village. The houses are generally good, some are large andelegant The barns are large and well-built and indicate a fertileand well-cultivated soil. 

"Upon the whole, Andover is one of the best farming towns inEastern Massachusetts. "

Andover roads were of incredible crookedness, though the Rev. Timothy makes no mention of this fact: "They were at firstdesigned to accommodate individuals, and laid out from house tohouse, " and thus the traveller found himself quite as often landedin a farm-yard, as at the point aimed for. All about are traces ofdisused and forgotten path-ways--

 "Old roads winding, as old roads will, Some to a river and some to a mill, "

and even now, though the inhabitant is sure of his ground, thestranger will swear that there is not a street, called, ordeserving to be called, straight, in all its borders. But this wasof even less consequence then than now. The New England woman hasnever walked when she could ride, and so long as the church stoodwithin easy distance, demanded nothing more. One walk of AnneBradstreets' is recorded in a poem, and it is perhaps because itwas her first, that it made so profound an impression, callingout, as we shall presently see, some of the most natural andmelodious verse which her serious and didactic Muse ever allowedher, and being still a faithful picture of the landscape itdescribes. But up to the beginning of the Andover life, Nature hadhad small chance of being either seen or heard, for an increasingfamily, the engrossing cares of a new settlement, and the Puritanbelief that "women folk were best indoors, " shut her off frominfluences that would have made her work mean something to thepresent day. She had her recreations as well as her cares, and weneed now to discover just what sort of life she and the Puritansisterhood in general led in the first years, whose "new mannersand customs, " so disturbed her conservative spirit. 

CHAPTER X. 

VILLAGE LIFE IN 1650. 

Of the eight children that came to Simon and Anne Bradstreet, butone was born in the "great house" at Andover, making hisappearance in 1652, when life had settled into the routine thatthereafter knew little change, save in the one disastrousexperience of 1666. This son, John, who like all the rest, livedto marry and leave behind him a plenteous family of children, wasa baby of one year old, when the first son, Samuel, "stayed formany years, " was graduated at Harvard College, taking high honorin his class, and presently settling as a physician in Boston, sufficiently near to be called upon in any emergency in theAndover home, and visited often by the younger brothers, each ofwhom became a Harvard graduate. Samuel probably had no share inthe removal, but Dorothy and Sarah, Simon and Hannah, were all oldenough to rejoice in the upheaval, and regard the whole episode asa prolonged picnic made for their especial benefit. Simon wasthen six years old, quite ready for Latin grammar and otherresponsibilities of life, and according to the Puritan standard, an accountable being from whom too much trifling could by no meansbe allowed, and who undoubtedly had a careful eye to the smallHannah, aged four, also old enough to knit a stocking and sew aseam, and read her chapter in the Bible with the best. Dorothy andSarah could take even more active part, yet even the mature agesof eight and ten did not hinder surreptitious tumbles into heapedup feather beds, and a scurry through many a once forbidden cornerof the Ipswich home. For them there was small hardship in the loghouse that received them, and unending delight in watching theprogress of the new. And one or another must often have riddenbefore the father, who loved them with more demonstration than thePuritan habit allowed, and who in his frequent rides to the newmill built on the Cochichewick in 1644, found a petitioner alwaysurging to be taken, too. The building of the mill probablypreceded that of the house, as Bradstreet thought always of publicinterests before his own, though in this case the two were nearlyidentical, a saw and grist-mill being one of the first necessitiesof any new settlement, and of equal profit to owner and users. 

Anne Bradstreet was now a little over thirty, five childrenabsorbing much of her thought and time, three more being addedduring the first six years at Andover. When five had passed outinto the world and homes of their own, she wrote, in 1656, halfregretfully, yet triumphantly, too, a poem which is really afamily biography, though the reference to her fifth child as ason, Mr. Ellis regards as a slip of the pen:

 "I had eight birds hatcht in one nest, Four Cocks there were, and Hens the rest; I nurst them up with pain and care, Nor cost, nor labour did I spare, Till at the last they felt their wing, Mounted the Trees, and learn'd to sing; Chief of the Brood then took his flight To Regions far, and left me quite; My mournful chirps I after send, Till he return, or I do end; Leave not thy nest, thy Dam and Sire, Fly back and sing amidst this Quire. My second bird did take her flight, And with her mate flew out of sight; Southward they both their course did bend, And Seasons twain they there did spend; Till after blown by Southern gales, They Norward steer'd with filled Sayles. A prettier bird was no where seen, Along the beach among the treen. 

 I have a third of colour white On whom I plac'd no small delight; Coupled with mate loving and true, Hath also bid her Dam adieu; And where Aurora first appears, She now hath percht, to spend her years; One to the Academy flew To chat among that learned crew; Ambition moves still in his breast That he might chant above the rest, Striving for more than to do well, That nightingales he might excell. My fifth, whose down is yet scarce gone Is 'mongst the shrubs and bushes flown, And as his wings increase in strength, On higher boughs he'l pearch at length. My other three, still with me nest, Untill they'r grown, then as the rest, Or here or there, they'l take their flight, As is ordain'd, so shall they light. If birds could weep, then would my tears Let others know what are my fears Lest this my brood some harm should catch, And be surpriz'd for want of watch, Whilst pecking corn, and void of care They fish un'wares in Fowler's snare; Or whilst on trees they sit and sing, Some untoward boy at them do fling; Or whilst allur'd with bell and glass, The net be spread, and caught, alas. Or least by Lime-twigs they be foyl'd, Or by some greedy hawks be spoyl'd. O, would my young, ye saw my breast, And knew what thoughts there sadly rest, Great was my pain when I you bred, Great was my care when I you fed, Long did I keep you soft and warm, And with my wings kept off all harm; My cares are more, and fears then ever, My throbs such now, as 'fore were never; Alas, my birds, you wisdome want, Of perils you are ignorant; Oft times in grass, on trees, in flight, Sore accidents on you may light. O, to your safety have an eye, So happy may you live and die; Mean while my dayes in tunes I'll spend, Till my weak layes with me shall end. 

 In shady woods I'll sit and sing, And things that past, to mind I'll bring. Once young and pleasant, as are you, But former boyes (no joyes) adieu. My age I will not once lament, But sing, my time so near is spent. And from the top bough take my flight, Into a country beyond sight, Where old ones, instantly grow young, And there with Seraphims set song; No seasons cold, nor storms they see, But spring lasts to eternity; When each of you shall in your nest Among your young ones take your rest, In chirping language, oft them tell, You had a Dam that lov'd you well, That did what could be done for young, And nurst you up till you were strong, And 'fore she once would let you fly, She shew'd you joy and misery; Taught what was good, and what was ill, What would save life, and what would kill? Thus gone, amongst you I may live, And dead, yet speak, and counsel give; Farewel, my birds, farewel, adieu, I happy am, if well with you. A. B. "

The Bradstreets and Woodbridges carried with them to Andover, morevaluable worldly possessions than all the rest put together, yeteven for them the list was a very short one. An inventory of theestate of Joseph Osgood, the most influential citizen after Mr. Bradstreet, shows that only bare necessities had gone with him. His oxen and cattle and the grain stored in his barn are givenfirst, with the value of the house and land and then follow thelist of household belongings, interesting now as showing with howlittle a reputable and honored citizen had found it possible tobring up a family. 

 A feather bed and furniture. A flock bed, (being half feathers) & furniture. A flock bed & furniture. Five payre of sheets & an odd one. Table linen. Fower payre of pillow-beeres. Twenty-two pieces of pewter. For Iron pott, tongs, cottrell & pot-hooks. Two muskets & a fowling-piece. Sword, cutlass & bandaleeres. Barrels, tubbs, trays, cheese-moates and pailes. A Stand. Bedsteads, cords & chayers. Chests and wheels. 

Various yards of stuffs and English cloth are also included, butnothing could well be more meager than this outfit, thoughdoubtless it filled the narrow quarters of the early years. Whatever may have come over afterward, there were none of theheirlooms to be seen to-day, in the shape of family portraits, andplate, china or heavily carved mahogany or oak furniture. For thepoorer houses, only panes of oiled paper admitted the light, andthis want of sunshine was one cause of the terrible loss of lifein fevers and various epidemics from which the first settlerssuffered. Leaden sashes held the small panes of glass used by thebetter class, but for both the huge chimneys with their roaringfires did the chief work of ventilation and purification, whilethe family life centered about them in a fashion often describedand long ago lost. 

There is a theory that our grandmothers in these first days of thesettlement worked with their own hands, with an energy never sinceequalled, and more and more departed from as the years go on. Butall investigation of early records shows that, as far aspracticable, all English habits remained in full force, and amongsuch habits was that of ample service. 

It is true that mistress and maid worked side by side, but thetasks performed now by any farmer's wife are as hard and morecontinuous than any labor of the early days, where many hands madelight work. If spinning and weaving have passed out of the handsof women, the girls who once shared in the labor, and helped tomake up the patriarchal households of early times, have followed, preferring the monotonous and wearing routine of mill-life, to thestigma resting upon all who consent to be classed as "help". Ifsocial divisions were actually sharper and more stringent in thebeginning, there was a better relation between mistress and maid, for which we look in vain to-day. 

In many cases, men and women secured their passage to America byselling their time for a certain number of years, and others whosefortunes were slightly better, found it well, until some means ofliving was secured, to enter the families of the more wealthycolonists, many of whom had taken their English households withthem. So long as families centered in one spot, there was littledifficulty in securing servants, but as new settlements wereformed servants held back, naturally preferring the towns to thechances of Indian raids and the dangers from wild beasts. Necessity brought about a plan which has lasted until within ageneration or so, and must come again, as the best solution of theservant problem. Roger Williams writes of his daughter that "shedesires to spend some time in service & liked much Mrs. Brentonwho wanted help. " This word "help" applied itself to such cases, distinguishing them from those of the ordinary servant, and girlsof the good families put themselves under notable housekeepers tolearn the secrets of the profession--a form of cooking andhousehold economy school, that we sigh for vainly to-day. TheBradstreets took their servants from Ipswich, but others in thenew town were reduced to sore straits, in some cases being forcedto depend on the Indian woman, who, fresh from the wigwam, lookedin amazement on the superfluities of civilized life. Hugh Peters, the dogmatic and most unpleasant minister of Salem, wrote to aBoston friend: "Sir, Mr Endecott & myself salute you in the LordJesus, &c. Wee have heard of a dividence of woman & children inthe bay & would be glad of a share, viz: a young woman or girle &a boy if you thinke good. " This was accomplished but failed tosatisfy, for two years later Peters again writes: "My wife desiresmy daughter to send to Hanna that was her mayd, now at Charltowne, to know if shee would dwell with us, for truly wee are sodestitute (having now but an Indian) that wee know not what todo. " This was a desperate state of things, on which Lowellcomments: "Let any housewife of our day, who does not find theKeltic element in domestic life so refreshing as to Mr. Arnold inliterature, imagine a household with one wild Pequot woman, communicated with by signs, for its maid of all work, and takecourage. Those were serious times indeed, when your cook mightgive warning by taking your scalp, or chignon, as the case mightbe, and making off with it, into the woods. "

Negro slavery was the first solution of these difficulties and onehard-headed member of the Colony, Emanual Downing, as early as1645, saw in the Indian wars and the prisoners that were taken, aconvenient means of securing the coveted negro, and wrote toWinthrop: "A war with the Narragansett is very considerable tothis plantation, ffor I doubt whither it be not synne in us, having power in our hands, to suffer them to maynteyne the worshipof the devill which their paw-wawes often doe; 2 lie, If upon ajust warre the Lord should deliver them into our hands, wee mighteasily have men, woemen and children enough to exchange forMoores, which wilbe more gaynefull pillage for us than weeconceive, for I do not see how we can thrive untill wee gett intoa stock of slaves, sufficient to doe all our buisenes, for ourchildren's children will hardly see this great Continent filledwith people, soe that our servants will still desire freedome toplant for themselves, and not stay but for verie great wages. AndI suppose you know verie well how wee shall maynteyne 20 Moorescheaper than one English servant. "

The canny Puritan considered that Indian "devil-worship" fullybalanced any slight wrong in exchanging them for, "Moores", andwrites of it as calmly as he does of sundry other events, somewhatshocking to the modern mind. But, while slaves increased Englishservants became harder and harder to secure, and often revoltedfrom the masters to whom their time had been sold. There is acertain relish in Winthrop's record of two disaffected ones, whichis perhaps not unnatural even from him, and is in full harmonywith the Puritan tendency to see a special Providence in any eventaccording to their minds:

"Two men servants to one Moodye, of Roxbury, returning in a boatfrom the windmill, struck upon the oyster bank. They went out togather oysters, and not making fast their boat, when the floatcame, it floated away and they were both drowned, although theymight have waded out on either side, but it was an evidentjudgement of God upon them, for they were wicked persons. One ofthem, a little before, being reproved for his lewdness, and put inmind of hell, answered that if hell were ten times hotter, he hadrather be there than he would serve his master, &c. The occasionwas because he had bound himself for divers years, and saw that, if he had been at liberty, he might have had greater wages, thoughotherwise his master used him very well. "

From whatever source the "Moores" were obtained, they were boughtand sold during the first hundred years that Andover hadexistence. "Pomps' Pond" still preserves the memory of PompeyLovejoy, servant to Captain William Lovejoy. Pompey's cabin stoodthere, and as election day approached, great store of election-cake and beer was manufactured for the hungry and thirsty voters, to whom it proved less demoralizing than the whiskey of to-day. There is a record of the death in 1683, of Jack, a negro servantof Captain Dudley Bradstreet's, who lost also, in 1693, bydrowning, "Stacy, ye servant of Major Dudley Bradstreet, amullatoe born in his house. " Mistress Bradstreet had several, whose families grew up about her, their concerns being of quite asdeep interest as those of her neighbors, and the Andover recordshold many suggestions of the tragedies and comedies of slave life. Strong as attachments might sometimes be, the minister himselfsold Candace, a negro girl who had grown up in his house, and fiveyear old Dinah was sent from home and mother at Dunstable, to anew master in Andover, as witness the bill of sale, which has acurious flavor for a Massachusetts document:

"Received of Mr. John Abbott of Andover Fourteen pounds, thirteenshillings and seven pence, it being the full value of a negrowgarl named Dinah about five years of age of a Healthy soundConstution, free from any Disease of Body and do hereby Deliverthe same Girl to the said Abbott and promise to Defend him in theImprovement of her as his servant forever. 

ROBERT BLOOD. "

Undoubtedly Dinah and all her contemporaries proved infinitelybetter servants than the second generation of those brought fromEngland; who even as early as 1656, had learned to preferindependence, the Rev. Zechariah Symmes writing feelingly: "Muchado I have with my own family, hard to get a servant glad ofcatechising or family duties. I had a rare blessing of servants inYorkshire and those I brought over were a blessing, but the youngbrood doth much afflict me. "

An enthusiastic cook, even of most deeply Puritanic spirit, hadbeen known to steal out during some long drawn prayer, to rescue afavorite dish from impending ruin, and the offence had beencondoned or allowed to pass unnoticed. But the "young brood"revolted altogether at times from the interminable catechisingsand "family duties", or submitted in a sulky silence, at which thespirit of the master girded in vain. 

There seems to have been revolt of many sorts. Nature asserteditself, and boys and girls smiled furtively upon one another, andyoung men and maidens planned means of outwitting stern mastersand mistresses, and securing a dance in some secluded barn, or thesemblance of a merry making in picnic or ride. But stocks, pilloryand whipping-post awaited all offenders, who still found that thesecret pleasure outweighed the public pain, and were brought upagain and again, till years subdued the fleshly instincts, andthey in turn wondered at their children's pertinacity in the sameevil ways. Holidays were no part of the Puritan system, and thelittle Bradstreets took theirs on the way to and from school, doing their wading and fishing and bird's-nesting in this stolentime. There was always Saturday afternoon, and Anne Bradstreet wasalso, so far as her painful conscientiousness allowed, anindulgent mother, and gave her children such pleasure as the rigidlife allowed. 

Andover from the beginning had excellent schools, Mr. Dane and Mr. Woodbridge, the ministers, each keeping one, while "dame schools"also flourished, taking the place of the present Kindergarten, though the suppressed and dominated babies of three and four, whoswung their unhappy feet far from the floor, and whose only readerwas a catechism, could never in their wildest dreams have imaginedanything so fascinating as the Kindergarten or primary school ofto-day. Horn books were still in use and with reason, the often-flagellated little Puritans giving much time to tears, which wouldhave utterly destroyed anything less enduring than horn. Until1647, the teaching of all younger children had been done chieflyat home, and Anne Bradstreet's older children learned theirletters at her knee, and probably, like all the children of theday, owned their little Bibles, and by the time they were three orfour years of age, followed the expounding at family prayers withonly a glance now and then toward the kitten, or the family dog, stretched out before the fire, and watching for any look ofinterest and recognition. 

After 1647, and the order of the General Court, "that everytownship in this jurisdiction, after the Lord hath increased themto fifty house-holders, shall then forthwith appoint one withintheir towns to teach all such children as shall resort to him, toread and write. " The district school-house waited till Indianraids had ceased to be dreaded, but though the walk to the small, square building which in due time was set in some piece of woodsor at a point where four roads meet, was denied them, it wassomething to come together at all, and the children found delightin berrying or nutting, or the crackle of the crisp snow-crust, over which they ran. 

They waked in those early days, often with the snow lying lightlyon their beds under the roof, through the cracks of which itsifted, and through which they saw stars shine or the morningsunlight flicker. Even when this stage passed, and the "greathouse" received them, there was still the same need for rushingdown to the fire in kitchen or living-room, before which theydressed, running out, perhaps, in the interludes of strings andbuttons, to watch the incoming of the fresh logs which Caesar orCato could never bear alone. 

In the Bradstreet mansion, with its many servants, there was lessneed of utilizing every child as far as possible, but that allshould labor was part of the Puritan creed, and the boys sharedthe work of foddering the cattle, bringing in wood and water, andgaining the appetite which presently found satisfaction, usuallyin one of two forms of porridge, which for the first hundred andfifty years was the Puritan breakfast. Boiled milk, lightlythickened with Indian meal, and for the elders made more desirableby "a goode piece of butter, " was the first, while for winter use, beans or peas were used, a small piece of pork or salted beefgiving them flavor, and making the savory bean porridge still tobe found here and there. Wheaten bread was then in general use;much more so than at a later date, when "rye and Indian" took itsplace, a fortunate choice for a people who, as time went on, atemore and more salt pork and fish. 

Game and fresh fish were plentiful in the beginning and poultryused with a freedom that would seem to the farmer of to-day, themaddest extravagance. The English love of good cheer was stillstrong, and Johnson wrote in his "Wonder-Working Providence":"Apples, pears and quince tarts, instead of their former pumpkin-pies. Poultry they have plenty and great rarity, and in theirfeasts have not forgotten the English fashion of stirring up theirappetites with variety of cooking their food. "

Certain New England dishes borrowed from the natives, or inventedto meet some emergency, had already become firmly established. Hasty-pudding, made chiefly then as now, from Indian meal, was afavorite supper dish, rye often being used instead, and both beingeaten with molasses, and butter or milk. Samp and hominy, or thewhole grain, as "hulled corn", had also been borrowed from theIndians, with "succotash", a fascinating combination of youngbeans and green corn. Codfish made Saturday as sacred as Fridayhad once been, and baked beans on Sunday morning became an equallyinflexible law. Every family brewed its own beer, and when theorchards had grown, made its own cider. Wine and spirits wereimported, but rum was made at home, and in the early records ofAndover, the town distiller has honorable mention. Butcher's meatwas altogether too precious to be often eaten, flocks and herdsbearing the highest money value for many years, and game andpoultry took the place of it. But it was generous living, far moreso than at the present day, abundance being the first essentialwhere all worked and all brought keen appetites to the board, andevery householder counted hospitality one of the cardinal virtues. 

Pewter was the only family plate, save in rarest instances. Forkshad not yet appeared, their use hardly beginning in England before1650, save among a few who had travelled and adopted the custom. Winthrop owned one, sent him in 1633, and the Bradstreets may havehad one or more, but rather as a curiosity than for daily use. Fingers still did much service, and this obliged the affluence ofnapkins, which appears in early inventories. The children ate fromwooden bowls and trenchers, and their elders from pewter. GovernorBradford owned "fourteen dishes of that material, thirteenplatters, three large and two small plates, a candlestick and abottle, " and many hours were spent in polishing the ratherrefractory metal. He also owned "four large silver spoons" andnine smaller ones. But spoons, too, were chiefly pewter, thoughoften merely wood, and table service was thus reduced as nearly tofirst principles as possible. Very speedily, however, as theColony prospered, store of silver and china was accumulated, usedonly on state occasions, and then carefully put away. 

The servant question had other phases than that of mereinadequacy, and there are countless small difficulties recorded;petty thefts, insolent speeches, and the whole familiar list whichwe are apt to consider the portion only of the nineteenth century. But there is nothing more certain than that, in spite of creeds, human nature remains much the same, and that the Puritan matronfretted as energetically against the pricks in her daily life, asany sinner of to-day. Mistress Bradstreet, at least, had oneexperience in which we hear of her as "very angry at the mayde", and which gave food for gossips for many a day. 

Probably one of the profoundest excitements that ever entered thechildren's lives, was in the discovery of certain iniquitiesperpetrated by a hired servant John--whose surname, if he ever hadone, is lost to this generation, and who succeeded in hiding hisevil doings so thoroughly, that there were suspicions of every onebut himself. He was a hard worker, but afflicted with aninordinate appetite, the result of which is found in this order:

"To the Constable of Andover. You are hereby required to attachthe body of John----, to answer such compt as shall be broughtagainst him, for stealing severall things, as pigges, capons, mault, bacon, butter, eggs &c, & for breaking open a seller-doorein the night several times &c. 7th 3d month 1661. "

John, suddenly brought to trial, first affirmed that his appetitewas never over large, but that the food provided the Bradstreetservants "was not fit for any man to eate, " the bread especiallybeing "black & heavy & soure, " and that he had only occasionallytaken a mere bite here and there to allay the painful cravingssuch emptiness produced. But hereupon appeared Goodwife Russ, interror lest she should be accused of sharing the spoils, andtestifying that John had often brought chickens, butter, malt andother things to her house and shared them with Goodman Russ, whohad no scruples. The "mayde had missed the things" and confidedher trouble to Goodwife Russ, who had gone up to the great house, and who, pitying the girl, knowing that "her mistress would blameher and be very angry, " brought them all back, and then told herhusband and John what she had done. Another comrade made fullconfession, testifying in court that at one time they killed androasted a "great fatt pigg" in the lot, giving what remained "tothe dogges, " John seasoning the repast with stories of formerthefts. It was in court that Master Jackson learned what had beenthe fate of "a great fatt Turkey . . . Fatted against hisdaughter's marriage" and hung for keeping in a locked room, downthe chimney of which, "2 or 3 fellowes" let the enterprising Johnby a rope who, being pulled up with his prize, "roasted it in thewood and ate it, " every whit. Down the same chimney he went for"strong beare, " and anyone who has once looked upon and into anancient Andover chimney will know that not only John, but the "2or 3 fellowes, " as well, could have descended side by side. 

Then came a scene in which little John Bradstreet, aged nine, hadpart, seeing the end if not the beginning, of which Hannah Barnard"did testifye that being in my father's lott near Mr. Bradstreet'sbarn, did see John run after Mr. Bradstreet's fouls & throughingsticks and stones at them & into the Barne. "

Looking through a crack to find out the result she "saw him throwout a capon which he had killed, and heard him call to Sam Martinto come; but when he saw that John Bradstreet was with Martin, heran and picked up the capon and hid it under a pear tree. "

This pear tree, climbed by every Bradstreet child, stood at theeast of the old house, and held its own till well into the presentcentury, and little John may have been on his way for a windfall, when the capon flew toward him. To stealing was added offencesmuch more malicious, several discreet Puritan lads, sons of theforemost land holders having been induced by sudden temptation, tojoin him in running Mr. Bradstreet's wheels down hill into aswamp, while at a later date they watched him recreating himselfin the same manner alone, testifying that he "took a wheele offMr. Bradstreet's tumbril and ran it down hill, and got an oldwheel from Goodman Barnard's land, & sett it on the tumbril. "

John received the usual punishment, but mended his ways only for aseason, his appetite rather increasing with age, and hisappearance before the Court being certain in any town to which hewent. No other servant seems to have given special trouble, andprobably all had laid to heart the "Twelve Good Rules, " printedand hung in every colonial kitchen:

 Profane no Divine ordinance. Touch no state matters. Urge no healths. Pick no quarrels. Encourage no vice. Repeat no grievances. Reveal no secrets. Mantain no ill opinions. Make no comparisons. Keep no bad company. Make no long meals. Lay no wagers. 

The problem of work and wages weighed heavily on the young Colony. There were grasping men enough to take advantage of the straitsinto which many came through the scarcity of labor, and Winthrop, as early as 1633, had found it necessary to interfere. Wages hadrisen to an excessive rate, "so as a carpenter would have threeshillings a day, a labourer two shillings and sixpence &c. ; andaccordingly those that had commodities to sell, advanced theirprices sometime double to that they cost in England, so as it grewto a general complaint, which the court taking knowledge of, asalso of some further evils, which were springing out of theexcessive rates of wages, they made an order, that carpenters, masons, &c. , should take but two shillings the day, and labourersbut eighteen pence, and that no commodity should be sold at abovefourpence in the shilling more than it cost for ready money inEngland; oil, wine, &c. , and cheese, in regard of the hazard ofbringing, &c. , excepted. The evils which were springing, &c. , were: 1. Many spent much time idly, &c. , because they could get asmuch in four days as would keep them a week. 2. They spent much intobacco and strong waters, &c. , which was a great waste to theCommonwealth, which by reason of so many commodities expended, could not have subsisted to this time, but that it was supplied bythe cattle and corn which were sold to new comers at very dearrates. " This bit of extortion on the part of the Colony as agovernment, does not seem to weigh on Winthrop's mind with by anymeans as great force as that of the defeated workmen, and he givesthe colonial tariff of prices with even a certain pride: "Corn atsix shillings the bushel, a cow at L20--yea, some at L24, someL26--a mare at L35, an ewe goat at 3 or L4; and yet many cattlewere every year brought out of England, and some from Virginia. "At last the new arrivals revolted, and one order ruled for all, the rate of profit charged, being long fixed at four pence in theshilling. Andover adopted this scale, being from the beginning ofa thrifty turn of mind, which is exemplified in one of the firstordinances passed. Many boys and girls had been employed by theowners of cattle to watch and keep them within bounds, countlesstroubles arising from their roaming over the unfenced lands. Toprevent the forming of idle habits the Court at once, did"hereupon order and decree that in every towne the chosen men areto take care of such as are sett to keep cattle, that they be settto some other employment withall, as spinning upon the rock, knitting & weaving tape, &c. , that boyes and girls be not sufferedto converse together. "

Such conversations as did take place had a double zest from thefact that the sharp-eyed herdsman was outwitted, but as a rule thesmall Puritans obeyed orders and the spinners and knitters in thesun, helped to fill the family chests which did duty as bureaus, and three varieties of which are still to be seen in old houses onthe Cape, as well as in the Museum at Plymouth. The plain sea-chest, like the sailor's chest of to-day, was the property of allalike, and usually of solid oak. A grade above this, came anotherform, with turned and applied ornaments and two drawers at thebottom, a fine specimen of which is still in the old Phillipshouse at North Andover, opposite the Bradstreet house. The lastvariety had more drawers, but still retained the lid on top, whichbeing finally permanently fastened down, made the modern bureau. High-backed wooden chairs and an immense oaken table with foldingladder legs, furnished the living-room, settles being on eitherside of the wide chimney, where, as the children roasted apples orchestnuts, they listened to stories of the wolves, whose howl eventhen might still be heard about the village. There are variousreferences to "wolf-hooks" in Governor Bradstreet's accounts, these being described by Josselyn as follows:

"Four mackerel hooks are bound with brown thread and wool wrappedaround them, and they are dipped into melted tallow till they beas big and round as an egg. This thing thus prepared is laid bysome dead carcase which toles the wolves. It is swallowed by themand is the means of their being taken. "

Every settler believed that "the fangs of a wolf hung aboutchildren's necks keep them from frightning, and are very good torub their gums with when they are breeding of teeth. " It was notat all out of character to look on complacently while dogs worriedan unhappy wolf, the same Josselyn writing of one taken in a trap:"A great mastiff held the wolf . . . Tying him to a stake we batedhim with smaller doggs and had excellent sport; but his hinder legbeing broken, they knocked out his brains. "

To these hunts every man and boy turned out, welcoming the breakin the monotonous life, and foxes and wolves were shot by thedozen, their method being to "lay a sledg-load of cods-heads onthe other side of a paled fence when the moon shines, and aboutnine or ten of the clock, the foxes come to it; sometimes two orthree or half a dozen and more; these they shoot, and by that timethey have cased them there will be as many more; so they continueshooting and killing of foxes as long as the moon shineth. "

Road-making became another means of bringing them together forsomething besides religious services, and as baskets of provisionswere taken with the workers, and the younger boys were allowed toshare in the lighter part of the work, a suggestion of merry-making was there also. These roads were often changed, being at notime much more than paths marked by the blazing of trees and theclearing away of timber and undergrowth. There were no bridgessave over the narrower streams, fording being the custom, tillferries were established at various points. Roads and townboundaries were alike undetermined and shifting. "Preambulators, "otherwise surveyors, found their work more and more complicated. "Marked trees, stakes and stones, " were not sufficient to preventendless discussions between selectmen and surveyors, and there isa document still on file which shows the straits to which theunhappy "preambulators" were sometimes reduced. 

"To Ye Selectmen of Billerica: Loving friends and neighbors, wehave bine of late under such surcomstances that wee could not tellwhether wee had any bounds or no between our towne, but now webegine to think we have--this therefore are to desier you to sendsome men to meet with ours upon the third Munday of ye next monthby nine a'clock in ye morning, if it be a faire day, if not thenext drie day, and so to run one both side of the river and tomeet at the vesil place and the west side of ye river. "

There were heart burnings from another source than this, and onewhich could never be altered by selectmen, whether at home orabroad. For generations, no person was allowed to choose a seat inchurch, a committee, usually the magistrates, settling the placesof all. In the beginning, after the building of any meeting-house, the seats were all examined and ranked according to theirdesirability, this process being called, "dignifying the pews. "All who held the highest social or ecclesiastical positions werethen placed; and the rest as seemed good, the men on one side, thewomen on another, and the children, often on a low bench outsidethe pews, where they were kept in order by the tithing man, who, at the first symptom of wandering attention, rapped them over thehead with his hare's foot mounted on a stick, and if necessary, withdrew them from the scene long enough for the administration ofa more thorough discipline. 

There are perpetual complaints of partiality--even hints thatbribery had been at work in this "seating the meeting-house, " andthe committee chosen found it so disagreeable a task that DudleyBradstreet, when in due time his turn came to serve, protestedagainst being compelled to it, and at last revolted altogether. 

At Boston a cage had been set up for Sabbath-breakers, but Andoverfound easier measures sufficient, though there are constantoffences recorded. A smile in meeting brought admonishment, and awhisper, the stocks, and when the boys were massed in thegalleries the tithing man had active occupation during the entireservice, and could have had small benefit of the means of grace. Two were necessary at last, the records reading: "We have orderedThomas Osgood and John Bridges to have inspection over the boys inthe galleries on the Sabbath, that they might be contained inorder in the time of publick exercise. "

Later, even worse trouble arose. The boys would not be "contained, "and the anxious selectmen wrote: "And whereas there is greviouscomplaints of great prophaneness of ye Sabbath, both in y time ofexercise, at noon time, to ye great dishonor of God, scandall ofreligion, & ye grief of many serious Christians, by young persons, we order & require ye tything-men & constables to tak care to p'ventsuch great and shamefull miscarriages, which are soe much observedand complained of. "

The little Bradstreets, chilled to the bone by sitting for hoursin the fireless church, could rush home to the warm hearth and thegenerous buttery across the street, but many who had ridden miles, and who ate a frosty lunch between services may be pardoned forindulging in the "great and shameful miscarriages, " which were, undoubtedly, a rush across the pews or a wrestle on the meeting-house steps. Even their lawlessness held more circumspectness thanis known to the most decorous boy of to-day, and it gained withevery generation, till neither tithing-men nor constables hadfurther power to restrain it, the Puritans of the eighteenthcentury wailing over the godlessness and degeneracy of the age asstrenuously as the pessimists of the nineteenth. Even for theseventeenth there are countless infractions of law, and a study ofcourt records would leave the impression of a reckless and utterlydefiant community, did not one recall the fact that life was sohedged about with minute detail, that the most orderly citizen ofthis day would have been the disorderly one of that. 

One resource, of entertainment, was always open to Puritanhouseholds. Hospitality was on a scale almost of magnificence, andevery opportunity seized for making a great dinner or supper, theabundant good cheer of which was their strongest reminder ofEngland. The early privations were ended, but to recall them gavean added zest, and we may fancy Roger Clap repeating theexperience found in his memoir, with a devout thankfulness thatsuch misery was far behind them. 

"Bread was so scarce, that frequently I thought the very crusts ofmy father's table would have been very sweet unto me. And when Icould have meal and water and salt boiled together who could wishbetter. It was not accounted a strange thing in those days todrink water, and to eat samp or hominy without butter or milk. Indeed it would have been strange to see a piece of roast beef, mutton or veal, though it was not long before there was roastgoat. "

Generous living had become the colonial characteristic. Even inthe first years, while pressure was still upon them, and supplieschiefly from England, one of them wrote:

"Sometimes we used bacon and buttered pease, sometimes butteredbag pudding, made with currants and raisins, sometimes drinkedpottage of beer and oatmeal, and sometimes water pottage wellbuttered. "

Health had come to many who had been sickly from childhood. Infact, in spite of the theory we are all inclined to hold, that"the former days were better than these, " and our ancestors menand women of a soundness and vigor long since lost, there is everyproof that the standard of health has progressed with all otherstandards, and that the best blood of this generation is purer andless open to disorder than the best blood of that. FrancisHigginson may stand as the representative of many who might havewritten with him:

"Whereas I have for divers years past been very sickly and readyto cast up whatsoever I have eaten, . . . He hath made my comingto be a method to cure me of a wonderful weak stomach andcontinual pain of melancholy mind from the spleen. "

His children seem to have been in equally melancholy case, but hewas able after a year or two of New England life to write:

"Here is an extraordinary clear and dry air, that is of a mosthealing nature to all such as are of a cold, melancholy, phlegmatic, rheumatic temper of body. "

The Puritans, as life settled into a less rasping routine thanthat of the early years, grew rotund and comfortable inexpression, and though the festivities of training days, and themore solemn one of ordination or Thanksgiving day, meant sermonand prayers of doubled length, found this only an added element ofenjoyment. Judge Sewall's diary records many good dinners;sometimes as "a sumptuous feast, " sometimes as merely "a finedinner, " but always with impressive unction. At one of theseoccasions he mentions Governor Bradstreet as being present andadds that he "drank a glass or two of wine, eat some fruit, took apipe of tobacco in the New Hall, wished me joy of the house anddesired our prayers. "

At Andover he was equally ready for any of these diversions, though never intemperate in either meat or drink, but, like everymagistrate, he kept open house, and enjoyed it more than somewhose austerity was greater, and there are many hints thatMistress Bradstreet provided good cheer with a freedom born of herearly training, and made stronger by her husband's tastes andwishes. The Andover dames patterned after her, and spent many ofthe long hours, in as close following of honored formulas as thenew conditions allowed, laying then the foundation for thatreputation still held by Andover housewives, and derided by one ofher best known daughters, as "the cup-cake tendencies of thetown. "

CHAPTER XI. 

A FIRST EDITION. 

Though the manuscript of the first edition of Anne Bradstreet'spoems was nearly if not entirely complete before the removal toAndover, some years were still to pass before it left her handsentirely, though her brother-in-law, knowing her self-distrustfulnature, may have refused to give it up when possession had oncebeen obtained. But no event in her life save her marriage, couldhave had quite the same significance to the shy and shrinkingwoman, who doubted herself and her work alike, considering anyreal satisfaction in it a temptation of the adversary. Authorshipeven to-day has its excitements and agitations, for the maker ofthe book if not for its readers. And it is hardly possible tomeasure the interest, the profound absorption in the book, whichhad been written chiefly in secret in hours stolen from sleep, toensure no trenching on daylight duties. We are helpless to formjust judgment of what the little volume meant to the generation inwhich it appeared, simply because the growth of the criticalfaculty has developed to an abnormal degree, and we demand in thelightest work, qualities that would have made an earlier poetimmortal. 

This is an age of versification. The old times--when a successfulcouplet had the same prominence and discussion as a walking matchto-day; when one poet thought his two lines a satisfactorymorning's work, and another said of him that when such laborended, straw was laid before the door and the knocker tied up--areover, once for all. Now and then a poet stops to polish, but forthe most part spontaneity, fluency, gush, are the qualitiesdemanded, and whatever finish may be given, must be dominated bythese more apparent facts. Delicate fancies still abound, and aremore and more the portion of the many; but Fancy fills the placeonce held for Imagination, a statelier and nobler dame, deaf tocommon voices and disdaining common paths. Every country paper, every petty periodical, holds verse that in the Queen Anne periodin literature would have given the author permanent place andname. All can rhyme, and many can rhyme melodiously. The power ofwords fitly set has made itself known, and a word has come to bejudged like a note in music--as a potential element of harmony--asound that in its own place may mean any emotion of joy or sorrow, hate or love. Whether a thought is behind these alluring rhythms, with their sensuous swing or their rush of sound, is immaterial solong as the ear has satisfaction; thus Swinburne and his schoolfill the place of Spenser and the elder poets, and many an "idlesinger of an empty day" jostles aside the masters, who can wait, knowing that sooner or later, return to them is certain. 

Schools have their power for a time, and expression held in theirmoulds forgets that any other form is possible. But the throng whocopied Herrick are forgotten, their involved absurdities andconceits having died with the time that gave them birth. Theromantic school had its day, and its power and charm areuncomprehended by the reader of this generation. And the Lakepoets, firmly as they held the popular mind, have no place now, save in the pages where a school was forgotten and nature andstronger forces asserted their power. 

No poet has enduring place whose work has not been the voice ofthe national thought and life in which he has had part. Theology, politics, great questions of right, all the problems of human lifein any age may have, in turn, moulded the epic of the period; but, from Homer down, the poet has spoken the deepest thought of thetime, and where he failed in this has failed to be heard beyondhis time. With American poets, it has taken long for anythingdistinctively American to be born. With the early singers, therewas simply a reproduction of the mannerisms and limitations of theschool for which Pope had set all the copies. Why not, when it wassimply a case of unchangeable identity, the Englishman being noless an Englishman because he had suddenly been put down on theAmerican side of the Atlantic? Then, for a generation or so, hewas too busy contending with natural forces, and asserting hisclaims to life and place on the new continent, to have muchleisure for verse-making, though here and there, in the stress ofgrinding days, a weak and uncertain voice sounded at times. AnneBradstreet's, as we know, was the first, and half assured, halfdismayed at her own presumption, she waited long, till convincedas other authors have since been, by the "urgency of friends, "that her words must have wider spread than manuscript could givethem. Now and again it is asserted that the manuscript for thefirst edition was taken to London without her knowledge andprinted in the same way, but there is hardly the slightest groundfor such conclusion, while the elaborate dedication and the manyfriendly tributes included, indicate the fullest knowledge andpreparation. All those whose opinion she most valued arerepresented in the opening pages of the volume. 

Evidently they felt it necessary to justify this extraordinarydeparture from the proper sphere of woman, a sphere as sharplydefined and limited by every father, husband and brother, as theirown was left uncriticised and unrestrained. Nathaniel Ward forgothis phillipics against the "squirrel's brains" of women, andhastened to speak his delight in the little book, and Woodbridgeand John Rogers and sundry others whose initials alone are affixedto their prose or poetical tributes and endorsements, all bandedtogether to sustain this first venture. The title page follows thefashion of the time, and is practically an abstract of whatfollows. 

 * * * * *

 THE TENTH MUSE, LATELY SPRUNG UP IN AMERICA, OR

 _Severall Poems, compiled with great variety of Wit and Learning, full of Delight, wherein especially is contained a Compleat discourse, and Description of_

 ( ELEMENTS, ( CONSTITUTIONS, THE FOUR--( AGES OF MAN, ( SEASONS OF THE YEAR. 

 _Together with an Exact Epitomie of the Four Monarchies, viz. :_ ( ASSYRIAN, THE ( PERSIAN, ( GRECIAN, ( ROMAN. 

 _Also, a Dialogue between Old England and New, concerning the Late Troubles; with divers other pleasant and serious Poems. _

 BY A GENTLEWOMAN IN THOSE PARTS. 

 Printed at London for Stephen Bowtell at the signe of the Bible in Popes Head-Alley, 1650. 

 * * * * *

Whether Anne herself wrote the preface is uncertain. It isapologetic enough for one of her supporters, but has someindications that she chose the first word should be her own. 

KIND READER:

Had I opportunity but to borrow some of the Author's wit, 'tispossible I might so trim this curious work with such quaintexpressions, as that the Preface might bespeak thy furtherPerusal; but I fear 'twill be a shame for a Man that can speak solittle, to be seen in the title-page of this Woman's Book, lest bycomparing the one with the other, the Reader should pass hissentence that it is the gift of women not only to speak most, butto speak best; I shall leave therefore to commend that, which withany ingenious Reader will too much commend the Author, unless menturn more peevish than women, to envy the excellency of theinferiour Sex. I doubt not but the Reader will quickly find morethan I can say, and the worst effect of his reading will beunbelief, which will make him question whether it be a woman'swork and aske, "Is it possible?"

If any do, take this as an answer from him that dares avow it: Itis the Work of a Woman, honoured, and esteemed where she lives, for her gracious demeanour, her eminent parts, her piousconversation, her courteous disposition, her exact diligence inher place, and discreet managing of her Family occasions, and morethan so, these Poems are the fruit but of some few houres, curtailed from her sleep and other refreshments. I dare adde butlittle lest I keep thee too long; if thou wilt not believe theworth of these things (in their kind) when a man sayes it, yetbelieve it from a woman when thou seest it. This only I shallannex, I fear the displeasure of no person in the publishing ofthese Poems but the Author, without whose knowledg, and contraryto her expectation, I have presumed to bring to publick view, whatshe resolved in such a manner should never see the Sun; but Ifound that diverse had gotten some Scattered Papers, and affectedthem well, were likely to have sent forth broken pieces, to theAuthors predjudice, which I thought to prevent, as well as topleasure those that earnestly desired the view of the whole. 

Nathaniel Ward speaks next and with his usual conviction that hisword is all that is necessary to stamp a thing as precisely whathe considers it to be. 

 Mercury shew'd Appollo, Bartas Book, Minerva this, and wish't him well to look, And tell uprightly which did which excell, He view'd and view'd, and vow'd he could not tel. They bid him Hemisphear his mouldy nose, With's crack't leering glasses, for it would pose The best brains he had in's old pudding-pan, Sex weigh'd, which best, the Woman or the Man? He peer'd and por'd & glar'd, & said for wore, I'me even as wise now, as I was before; They both 'gan laugh, and said it was no mar'l The Auth'ress was a right Du Bartas Girle, Good sooth quoth the old Don, tell ye me so, I muse whither at length these Girls will go; It half revives my chil frost-bitten blood, To see a Woman once, do aught that's good; And chode by Chaucer's Book, and Homer's Furrs, Let Men look to't, least Women wear the Spurrs. N. Ward. 

John Woodbridge takes up the strain in lines of much easier verse, in which he pays her brotherly tribute, and is followed by hisbrother, Benjamin, who had been her neighbor in Andover. 

 UPON THE AUTHOR; BY A KNOWN FRIEND. 

 Now I believe Tradition, which doth call The Muses, Virtues, Graces, Females all; Only they are not nine, eleven nor three; Our Auth'ress proves them but one unity. Mankind take up some blushes on the score; Monopolize perfection no more; In your own Arts confess yourself out-done, The Moon hath totally eclips'd the Sun, Not with her Sable Mantle muffling him; But her bright silver makes his gold look dim; Just as his beams force our pale lamps to wink, And earthly Fires, within their ashes shrink. _B. W. _

 IN PRAISE OF THE AUTHOR, MISTRESS ANNE BRADSTREET, Virtues true and lively Pattern, Wife of the Worshipfull Simon Bradstreet Esq: At present residing in the Occidental parts of the World in America, _Alias Nov-Anglia_. 

 What golden splendent Star is this so bright, One thousand Miles twice told, both day and night, (From the Orient first sprung) now from the West That shines; swift-winged Phoebus, and the rest Of all Jove's fiery flames surmounting far As doth each Planet, every falling Star; By whose divine and lucid light most clear, Nature's dark secret mysteryes appear; Heavens, Earths, admired wonders, noble acts Of Kings and Princes most heroick facts, And what e're else in darkness seemed to dye, Revives all things so obvious now to th' eye, That he who these its glittering rayes views o're, Shall see what's done in all the world before. _N. H. _

Three other friends add their testimony before we come to thededication. 

 UPON THE AUTHOR. 

 'Twere extream folly should I dare attempt, To praise this Author's worth with complement; None but herself must dare commend her parts, Whose sublime brain's the Synopsis of Arts. Nature and Skill, here both in one agree, To frame this Master-piece of Poetry: False Fame, belye their Sex no more, it can Surpass, or parrallel the best of Man. _C. B. _

 ANOTHER TO MRS. ANNE BRADSTREET, Author of this Poem. 

 I've read your Poem (Lady) and admire, Your Sex to such a pitch should e're aspire; Go on to write, continue to relate, New Historyes, of Monarchy and State: And what the Romans to their Poets gave, Be sure such honour, and esteem you'l have. _H. S. _

 AN ANAGRAM. 

 ANNA BRADSTREET. DEER NEAT AN BARTAS. 

 So Bartas like thy fine spun Poems been, That Bartas name will prove an Epicene. 

 ANOTHER. 

 ANNA BRADSTREET. ARTES BRED NEAT AN. 

There follows, what can only be defined as a gushing tribute fromJohn Rogers, also metrical, though this was not included until thesecond edition. 

"Twice I have drunk the nectar of your lines, " he informs her, adding that, left "thus weltring in delight, " he is scarcelycapable of doing justice either to his own feelings, or the workwhich has excited them, and with this we come at last to thededication in which Anne herself bears witness to her obligationsto her father. 

 _To her most Honoured Father, Thomas Dudley, Esq; these humbly presented, _

 Dear Sir of late delighted with the sight Of your four Sisters cloth'd in black and white. Of fairer Dames the Sun n'er Saw the face, Though made a pedestal for Adams Race; Their worth so shines in these rich lines you show Their paralels to finde I scarely know To climbe their Climes, I have nor strength nor skill To mount so high requires an Eagle's quill; Yet view thereof did cause my thoughts to soar, My lowly pen might wait upon these four I bring my four times four, now meanly clad To do their homage, unto yours, full glad; Who for their Age, their worth and quality Might seem of yours to claim precedency; But by my humble hand, thus rudely pen'd They are, your bounden handmaids to attend These same are they, from whom we being have These are of all, the Life, the Muse, the Grave; These are the hot, the cold, the moist, the dry, That sink, that swim, that fill, that upwards fly, Of these consists our bodies, Clothes and Food, The World, the useful, hurtful, and the good, Sweet harmony they keep, yet jar oft times Their discord doth appear, by these harsh rimes Yours did contest for wealth, for Arts, for Age, My first do shew their good, and then their rage. My other foures do intermixed tell Each others faults, and where themselves excel; How hot and dry contend with moist and cold, How Air and Earth no correspondence hold, And yet in equal tempers, how they 'gree How divers natures make one Unity Something of all (though mean) I did intend But fear'd you'ld judge Du Bartas was my friend. I honour him, but dare not wear his wealth My goods are true (though poor) I love no stealth But if I did I durst not send them you Who must reward a Thief, but with his due. I shall not need, mine innocence to clear These ragged lines will do 't when they appear; On what they are, your mild aspect I crave Accept my best, my worst vouchsafe a Grave. From her that to your self, more duty owes Then water in the boundess Ocean flows. _Anne Bradstreet_. March 20, 1642. 

The reference in the second line, to "your four Sisters, clothedin black and white, " is to a poem which the good governor is saidto have written in his later days, "on the Four Parts of theWorld, " but which a happy fate has spared us, the manuscripthaving been lost or destroyed, after his death. His daughter'sverse is often as dreary, but both dedication and prologue admither obligations to du Bartas, and that her verse was modeled uponhis was very plain to Nathaniel Ward, who called her a "right duBartas girl, " with the feeling that such imitation was infinitelymore creditable to her than any originality which she herselfcarefully disclaims in the

 PROLOGUE. 

 1

 To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings, Of cities founded, Commonwealths begun, For my mean pen are too superior things: Or how they all, or each their dates have run Let Poets and Historians set these forth, My obscure Lines shall not so dim their worth. 

 2

 But when my wondring eyes and envious heart Great Bartas sugared lines, do but read o'er Fool I do grudg the Muses did not part 'Twixt him and me that overfluent store; A Bartas can do what a Bartas will But simple I according to my skill. 

 3

 From school-boyes' tongues no rhet'rick we expect Nor yet a sweet Consort from broken strings, Nor perfect beauty, where's a main defect; My foolish, broken, blemish'd Muse so sings And this to mend, alas, no Art is able, 'Cause nature, made it so irreparable. 

 4

 Nor can I, like that fluent sweet-tongu'd Greek, Who lisp'd at first, in future times speak plain By Art he gladly found what he did seek A full requital of his, striving pain Art can do much, but this maxima's most sure A weak or wounded brain admits no cure. 

 5

 I am obnoxious to each carping tongue Who says my hand a needle better fits, A Poet's pen all Scorn I should thus wrong, For such despite they cast on Female wits; If what I do prove well, it won't advance, They'l say it's stolen, or else it was by chance. 

 6

 But sure the Antique Greeks were far more mild Else of our Sexe, why feigned they those Nine And poesy made, Calliope's own child; So 'mongst the rest they placed the Arts' Divine, But this weak knot, they will full soon untie, The Greeks did nought, but play the fools & lye. 

 7

 Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are Men have precedency and still excel, It is but vain unjustly to wage warre: Men can do best, and women know it well Preheminence in all and each is yours; Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours. 

 8

 And oh ye high flown quills that soar the Skies, And ever with your prey still catch your praise, If e're you daigne these lowly lines your eyes Give Thyme or Parsley wreath, I ask no bayes, This mean and unrefined ure of mine Will make you glistening gold, but more to shine. 

With the most ambitious of the longer poems--"The Four Monarchies"--and one from which her readers of that day probably derived the mostsatisfaction, we need not feel compelled to linger. To them itscharm lay in its usefulness. There were on sinful fancies; notrifling waste of words, but a good, straightforward narrative ofthings it was well to know, and Tyler's comment upon it will beechoed by every one who turns the apallingly matter-of-fact pages:"Very likely, they gave to her their choicest praise, and calledher, for this work, a painful poet; in which compliment every modernreader will most cordially join. "

Of much more attractive order is the comparatively short poem, oneof the series of quaternions in which she seems to have delighted. "The Four Elements" is a wordy war, in which four personages, Fire, Earth, Air and Water, contend for the precedence, glorifyingtheir own deeds and position and reproaching the others for theirshortcomings and general worthlessness with the fluency and furyof seventeenth century theological debate. There are passages, however, of real poetic strength and vividness, and the poem isone of the most favorable specimens of her early work. The fourhave met and at once begin the controversy. 

 The Fire, Air, Earth and Water did contest Which was the strongest, noblest and the best, Who was of greatest use and might'est force; In placide Terms they thought now to discourse, That in due order each her turn should speak; But enmity this amity did break All would be chief, and all scorn'd to be under Whence issued winds & rains, lightning & thunder. The quaking earth did groan, the Sky looked black, The Fire, the forced Air, in sunder crack; The sea did threat the heav'ns, the heavn's the earth, All looked like a Chaos or new birth; Fire broyled Earth, & scorched Earth it choaked Both by their darings, water so provoked That roaring in it came, and with its source Soon made the Combatants abate their force; The rumbling, hissing, puffing was so great The worlds confusion, it did seem to threat Till gentle Air, Contention so abated That betwixt hot and cold, she arbitrated The others difference, being less did cease All storms now laid, and they in perfect peace That Fire should first begin, the rest consent, The noblest and most active Element. 

Fire rises, with the warmth one would expect, and recounts herservices to mankind, ending with the triumphant assurance, that, willing or not, all things must in the end be subject to herpower. 

 What is my worth (both ye) and all men know, In little time I can but little show, But what I am, let learned Grecians say What I can do well skil'd Mechanicks may; The benefit all living by me finde, All sorts of Artists, here declare your mind, What tool was ever fram'd, but by my might? Ye Martilisk, what weapons for your fight To try your valor by, but it must feel My force? Your Sword, & Gun, your Lance of steel Your Cannon's bootless and your powder too Without mine aid, (alas) what can they do; The adverse walls not shak'd, the Mines not blown And in despight the City keeps her own; But I with one Granado or Petard Set ope those gates, that 'fore so strong were bar'd Ye Husband-men, your Coulters made by me Your Hooes your Mattocks, & what ere you see Subdue the Earth, and fit it for your Grain That so it might in time requite your pain; Though strong-limb'd Vulcan forg'd it by his skill I made it flexible unto his will; Ye Cooks, your Kitchen implements I frame Your Spits, Pots, Jacks, what else I need not name Your dayly food I wholsome make, I warm Your shrinking Limbs, which winter's cold doth harm Ye Paracelsians too in vain's your skill In Chymistry, unless I help you Still. 

 And you Philosophers, if e're you made A transmutation it was through mine aid, Ye silver Smiths, your Ure I do refine What mingled lay with Earth I cause to shine, But let me leave these things, my fame aspires To match on high with the Celestial fires; The Sun an Orb of fire was held of old, Our Sages new another tale have told; But be he what they will, yet his aspect A burning fiery heat we find reflect And of the self same nature is with mine Cold sister Earth, no witness needs but thine; How doth his warmth, refresh thy frozen back And trim thee brave, in green, after thy black. Both man and beast rejoyce at his approach, And birds do sing, to see his glittering Coach And though nought, but Salamanders live in fire And fly Pyrausta call'd, all else expire, Yet men and beasts Astronomers will tell Fixed in heavenly Constellations dwell, My Planets of both Sexes whose degree Poor Heathen judg'd worthy a Diety; There's Orion arm'd attended by his dog; The Theban stout Alcides with his Club; The valiant Persens, who Medusa slew, The horse that kil'd Beleuphon, then flew. My Crab, my Scorpion, fishes you may see The Maid with ballance, twain with horses three, The Ram, the Bull, the Lion, and the Beagle, The Bear, the Goat, the Raven, and the Eagle, The Crown, the Whale, the Archer, Bernice Hare The Hidra, Dolphin, Boys that water bear, Nay more, then these, Rivers 'mongst stars are found Eridanus, where Phaeton was drown'd. Their magnitude, and height, should I recount My Story to a volume would amount; Out of a multitude these few I touch, Your wisdome out of little gather much. 

 I'le here let pass, my choler, cause of wars And influence of divers of those stars When in Conjunction with the Sun do more Augment his heat, which was too hot before. The Summer ripening season I do claim, And man from thirty unto fifty framed, Of old when Sacrifices were Divine, I of acceptance was the holy Signe, 'Mong all thy wonders which I might recount, There's none more strange then Aetna's Sulphry mount The choaking flames, that from Vesuvius flew The over curious second Pliny flew, And with the Ashes that it sometimes shed Apulia's 'jacent parts were covered. And though I be a servant to each man Yet by my force, master, my masters can. What famous Towns, to Cinders have I turned? What lasting forts my Kindled wrath hath burned? The Stately Seats of mighty Kings by me In confused heaps, of ashes may you see. Where's Ninus great wall'd Town, & Troy of old Carthage, and hundred more in stories told Which when they could not be o'ercome by foes The Army, thro'ugh my help victorious rose And Stately London, our great Britian's glory My raging flame did make a mournful story, But maugre all, that I, or foes could do That Phoenix from her Bed, is risen New. Old sacred Zion, I demolished thee Lo great Diana's Temple was by me, And more than bruitish London, for her lust With neighbouring Towns, I did consume to dust What shall I say of Lightning and of Thunder Which Kings & mighty ones amaze with wonder, Which make a Caesar, (Romes) the world's proud head, Foolish Caligula creep under 's bed. Of Meteors, Ignus fatuus and the rest, But to leave those to th' wise, I judge it best. The rich I oft made poor, the strong I maime, Not sparing Life when I can take the same; And in a word, the world I shall consume And all therein, at that great day of Doom; Not before then, shall cease, my raging ire And then because no matter more for fire Now Sisters pray proceed, each in your Course As I, impart your usefulness and force. 

Fully satisfied that nothing remains to be said, Fire takes herplace among the sisterhood and waits scornfully for such poor pleaas Earth may be able to make, surprised to find what power ofbraggadocio still remains and hastens to display itself. 

 The next in place Earth judg'd to be her due, Sister (quoth shee) I come not short of you, In wealth and use I do surpass you all, And mother earth of old men did me call Such is my fruitfulness, an Epithite, Which none ere gave, or you could claim of sight Among my praises this I count not least, I am th' original of man and beast, To tell what Sundry fruits my fat soil yields In Vineyards, Gardens, Orchards & Corn-fields, Their kinds, their tasts, their Colors & their smells Would so pass time I could say nothing else. The rich, the poor, wise, fool, and every sort Of these so common things can make report. To tell you of my countryes and my Regions, Soon would they pass not hundreds but legions; My cities famous, rich and populous, Whose numbers now are grown innumerous, I have not time to think of every part, Yet let me name my Grecia, 'tis my heart. For learning arms and arts I love it well, But chiefly 'cause the Muses there did dwell. 

 Ile here skip ore my mountains reaching skyes, Whether Pyrenean, or the Alpes, both lyes On either side the country of the Gaules Strong forts, from Spanish and Italian brawles, And huge great Taurus longer then the rest, Dividing great Armenia from the least; And Hemus, whose steep sides none foot upon, But farewell all for dear mount Helicon, And wondrous high Olimpus, of such fame, That heav'n itself was oft call'd by that name. Parnapus sweet, I dote too much on thee, Unless thou prove a better friend to me: But Ile leap ore these hills, not touch a dale, Nor will I stay, no not in Temple Vale, He here let go my Lions of Numedia, My Panthers and my Leopards of Libia, The Behemoth and rare found Unicorn, Poyson's sure antidote lyes in his horn, And my Hiaena (imitates man's voice) Out of great numbers I might pick my choice, Thousands in woods & plains, both wild & tame, But here or there, I list now none to name; No, though the fawning Dog did urge me sore, In his behalf to speak a word the more, Whose trust and valour I might here commend; But times too short and precious so to spend. But hark you wealthy merchants, who for prize Send forth your well man'd ships where sun doth rise, After three years when men and meat is spent, My rich Commodityes pay double rent. Ye Galenists, my Drugs that come from thence, Do cure your Patients, fill your purse with pence; Besides the use of roots, of hearbs, and plants, That with less cost near home supply your wants. But Mariners where got your ships and Sails, And Oars to row, when both my Sisters fails Your Tackling, Anchor, compass too is mine, Which guides when sun, nor moon, nor stars do shine. Ye mighty Kings, who for your lasting fames Built Cities, Monuments, call'd by your names, Were those compiled heaps of massy stones That your ambition laid, ought but my bones? Ye greedy misers, who do dig for gold For gemms, for silver, Treasures which I hold, Will not my goodly face your rage suffice But you will see, what in my bowels lyes? And ye Artificers, all Trades and forts My bounty calls you forth to make reports, If ought you have, to use, to wear, to eat, But what I freely yield, upon your sweat? And Cholerick Sister, thou for all thine ire Well knowst my fuel, must maintain thy fire. 

 As I ingenuously with thanks confess, My cold thy fruitfull heat doth crave no less; But how my cold dry temper works upon The melancholy Constitution; How the Autumnal season I do sway, And how I force the gray-head to obey, I should here make a short, yet true narration. But that thy method is mine imitation Now must I shew mine adverse quality, And how I oft work man's mortality; He sometimes finds, maugre his toiling pain Thistles and thorns where he expected grain. My sap to plants and trees I must not grant, The vine, the olive, and the fig tree want: The Corn and Hay do fall before the're mown, And buds from fruitfull trees as soon as blown; Then dearth prevails, that nature to suffice The Mother on her tender infant flyes; The husband knows no wife, nor father sons. But to all outrages their hunger runs: Dreadful examples soon I might produce, But to such Auditors 'twere of no use, Again when Delvers dare in hope of gold To ope those veins of Mine, audacious bold; While they thus in mine entrails love to dive, Before they know, they are inter'd alive. Y' affrighted nights appal'd, how do ye shake, When once you feel me your foundation quake? Because in the Abysse of my dark womb Your cities and yourselves I oft intomb: O dreadful Sepulcher! that this is true Dathan and all his company well knew, So did that Roman far more stout than wise Bur'ing himself alive for honours prize. And since fair Italy full sadly knowes What she hath lost by these remed'less woes. Again what veins of poyson in me lye, Some kill outright, and some do stupifye: Nay into herbs and plants it sometimes creeps, In heats & colds & gripes & drowzy sleeps; Thus I occasion death to man and beast When food they seek, & harm mistrust the least, Much might I say of the hot Libian sand Which rise like tumbling Billows on the Land Wherein Cambyses Armie was o'rethrown (but winder Sister, 'twas when you have blown) I'le say no more, but this thing add I must Remember Sons, your mould is of my dust And after death whether interr'd or burn'd As Earth at first so into Earth returned. 

Water, in no whit dismayed by pretensions which have left no roomfor any future claimant, proceeds to prove her right to thechampionship, by a tirade which shows her powers quite equal tothose of her sisters, considering that her work in the floods hasevidenced itself quite as potent as anything Fire may claim in thefuture. 

 Scarce Earth had done, but th' angry water moved. Sister (quoth she) it had full well behoved Among your boastings to have praised me Cause of your fruitfulness as you shall see: This your neglect shews your ingratitude And how your subtilty, would men delude Not one of us (all knows) that's like to thee Ever in craving from the other three; But thou art bound to me above the rest, Who am thy drink, thy blood, thy Sap, and best:

 If I withhold what art thou? dead dry lump Thou bearst nor grass or plant, nor tree nor stump, Thy extream thirst is moistn'ed by my love With springs below, and showres from above Or else thy Sun-burnt face and gaping chops Complain to th' heavens, if I withhold my drops Thy Bear, thy Tiger and thy Lion stout, When I am gone, their fierceness none needs doubt Thy Camel hath no strength, thy Bull no force Nor mettal's found in the courageous Horse Hinds leave their calves, the Elephant the fens The wolves and Savage beasts forsake their Dens The lofty Eagle, and the stork fly low, The Peacock and the Ostrich, share in woe, The Pine, the Cedar, yea, and Daphne's Tree Do cease to nourish in this misery, Man wants his bread and wine, & pleasant fruits He knows, such sweets, lies not in Earth's dry roots Then seeks me out, in river and in well His deadly malady I might expell: If I supply, his heart and veins rejoyce, If not, soon ends his life, as did his voyce; That this is true, Earth thou can'st not deny I call thine Egypt, this to verifie, Which by my falling Nile, doth yield such store That she can spare, when nations round are poor When I run low, and not o'reflow her brinks To meet with want, each woeful man bethinks; And such I am in Rivers, showrs and springs But what's the wealth, that my rich Ocean brings Fishes so numberless, I there do hold If thou should'st buy, it would exhaust thy gold:

 There lives the oyly Whale, whom all men know Such wealth but not such like, Earth thou maist show. The Dolphin loving musick, Arians friend The witty Barbel, whose craft doth her commend With thousands more, which now I list not name Thy silence of thy Beasts doth cause the same My pearles that dangle at thy Darling's ears, Not thou, but shel-fish yield, as Pliny clears, Was ever gem so rich found in thy trunk As Egypts wanton, Cleopatra drunk? Or hast thou any colour can come nigh The Roman purple, double Tirian dye? Which Caesar's Consuls, Tribunes all adorn, For it to search my waves they thought no Scorn, Thy gallant rich perfuming Amber greece I lightly cast ashore as frothy fleece: With rowling grains of purest massie gold, Which Spains Americans do gladly hold. 

 Earth thou hast not moe countrys vales & mounds Then I have fountains, rivers lakes and ponds; My sundry seas, black, white and Adriatique, Ionian, Baltique, and the vast Atlantique, Aegean, Caspian, golden rivers fire, Asphaltis lake, where nought remains alive: But I should go beyond thee in my boasts, If I should name more seas than thou hast Coasts, And be thy mountains ne'er so high and steep, I soon can match them with my seas as deep. To speak of kinds of waters I neglect, My diverse fountains and their strange effect: My wholsome bathes, together with their cures; My water Syrens with their guilefull lures, The uncertain cause of certain ebbs and flows, Which wondring Aristotles wit n'er knows, Nor will I speak of waters made by art, Which can to life restore a fainting heart. Nor fruitfull dews, nor drops distil'd from eyes, Which pitty move, and oft deceive the wise: Nor yet of salt and sugar, sweet and smart, Both when we lift to water we convert. Alas thy ships and oars could do no good Did they but want my Ocean and my flood. 

 The wary merchant on his weary beast Transfers his goods from south to north and east, Unless I ease his toil, and do transport The wealthy fraight unto his wished port, These be my benefits, which may suffice: I now must shew what ill there in me lies. The flegmy Constitution I uphold, All humours, tumours which are bred of cold: O're childhood and ore winter I bear sway, And Luna for my Regent I obey. As I with showers oft times refresh the earth, So oft in my excess I cause a dearth, And with abundant wet so cool the ground, By adding cold to cold no fruit proves found. The Farmer and the Grasier do complain Of rotten sheep, lean kine, and mildew'd grain. And with my wasting floods and roaring torrent, Their cattel hay and corn I sweep down current. Nay many times my Ocean breaks his bounds, And with astonishment the world confounds, And swallows Countryes up, ne'er seen again, And that an island makes which once was main: Thus Britian fair ('tis thought) was cut from France Scicily from Italy by the like chance, And but one land was Africa and Spain Untill proud Gibraltar did make them twain. Some say I swallow'd up (sure tis a notion) A mighty country in th' Atlantique Ocean. I need not say much of my hail and Snow, My ice and extream cold, which all men know, Whereof the first so ominous I rain'd, That Israel's enemies therewith were brain'd; And of my chilling snows such plenty be, That Caucasus high mounts are seldome free, Mine ice doth glaze Europes great rivers o're, Till sun release, their ships can sail no more, All know that inundations I have made, Wherein not men, but mountains seem'd to wade; As when Achaia all under water stood, That for two hundred years it n'er prov'd good. Deucalions great Deluge with many moe, But these are trifles to the flood of Noe, Then wholly perish'd Earths ignoble race, And to this day impairs her beauteous face, That after times shall never feel like woe, Her confirm'd sons behold my colour'd bow. Much might I say of wracks, but that He spare, And now give place unto our Sister Air. 

There is a mild self-complacency, a sunny and contented assertionabout "sister Air, " that must have proved singularly aggravatingto the others, who, however, make no sign as to the final results, the implication being, that she is after all the one absolutelyindispensable agent. But to end nowhere, each side fully convincedin its own mind that the point had been carried in its own favor, was so eminently in the spirit of the time, that there be nowonder at the silence as to the real victor, though it issurprising that Mistress Bradstreet let slip so excellent anopportunity for the moral so dear to the Puritan mind. 

 Content (quoth Air) to speak the last of you, Yet am not ignorant first was my due: I do suppose you'l yield without controul I am the breath of every living soul. Mortals, what one of you that loves not me Abundantly more than my Sisters three? And though you love fire, Earth and Water well Yet Air beyond all these you know t' excell. I ask the man condemn'd that's neer his death, How gladly should his gold purchase his breath, And all the wealth that ever earth did give, How freely should it go so he might live: No earth, thy witching trash were all but vain, If my pure air thy sons did not sustain, The famish'd thirsty man that craves supply, His moving reason is, give least I dye, So both he is to go though nature's spent To bid adieu to his dear Element. 

 Nay what are words which do reveal the mind, Speak who or what they will they are but wind. Your drums your trumpets & your organs found, What is't but forced air which doth rebound, And such are ecchoes and report of th' gun That tells afar th' exploit which it hath done, Your songs and pleasant tunes they are the same, And so's the notes which Nightingales do frame. Ye forging Smiths, if bellows once were gone Your red hot work more coldly would go on. Ye Mariners, tis I that fill your sails, And speed you to your port with wished gales. When burning heat doth cause you faint, I cool, And when I smile, your ocean's like a pool. I help to ripe the corn, I turn the mill, And with myself I every Vacuum fill. The ruddy sweet sanguine is like to air, And youth and spring, Sages to me compare, My moist hot nature is so purely thin, No place so subtilly made, but I get in. I grow more pure and pure as I mount higher, And when I'm thoroughly varifi'd turn fire: So when I am condens'd, I turn to water, Which may be done by holding down my vapour. 

 Thus I another body can assume, And in a trice my own nature resume. Some for this cause of late have been so bold Me for no Element longer to hold, Let such suspend their thoughts, and silent be, For all Philosophers make one of me: And what those Sages either spake or writ Is more authentick then our modern wit. Next of my fowles such multitudes there are, Earths beasts and waters fish scarce can compare. Th' Ostrich with her plumes th' Eagle with her eyn The Phoenix too (if any be) are mine, The Stork, the crane, the partridg, and the phesant The Thrush, the wren, the lark a prey to th' pesant, With thousands more which now I may omit Without impeachment to my tale or wit. As my fresh air preserves all things in life, So when corrupt, mortality is rife;

 Then Fevers, Pmples, Pox and Pestilence, With divers more, work deadly consequence: Whereof such multitudes have di'd and fled, The living scarce had power to bury the dead; Yea so contagious countryes have we known That birds have not 'Scapt death as they have flown Of murrain, cattle numberless did fall, Men feared destruction epidemical. Then of my tempests felt at sea and land, Which neither ships nor houses could withstand, What wofull wracks I've made may well appear, If nought were known but that before Algere, Where famous Charles the fifth more loss sustained Then in his long hot war which Millain gain'd Again what furious storms and Hurricanoes Know western Isles, as Christophers Barbadoes; Where neither houses, trees nor plants I spare, But some fall down, and some fly up with air. Earthquakes so hurtfull, and so fear'd of all, Imprison'd I, am the original. Then what prodigious sights I sometimes show, As battles pitcht in th' air, as countryes know, Their joyning fighting, forcing and retreat, That earth appears in heaven, O wonder great! Sometimes red flaming swords and blazing stars, Portentous signs of famines, plagues and wars, Which make the Monarchs fear their fates By death or great mutation of their States. I have said less than did my Sisters three, But what's their wrath or force, the fame's in me. To adde to all I've said was my intent, But dare not go beyond my Element. 

Here the contest ends, and though the second edition held slightalterations here and there, no further attempt was made to add toor take away from the verses, which are as a whole the bestexamples of the early work, their composition doubtless beguilingmany weary hours of the first years in New England. "The fourHumours of Man" follows, but holds only a few passages of anydistinctive character, the poem, like her "Four Monarchies, " beingonly a paraphrase of her reading. In "The Four Seasons, " there wasroom for picturesque treatment of the new conditions thatsurrounded her, but she seems to have been content, merely totouch the conventional side of nature, and to leave her ownimpressions and feelings quite out of the question. The versesshould have held New England as it showed itself to the colonists, with all the capricious charges that moved their wonder in theearly days. There was everything, it would have seemed, to excitesuch poetical power as she possessed, to the utmost, for even theprose of more than one of her contemporaries gives hints of thefeeling that stirred within them as they faced the strangeconditions of the new home. Even when they were closely massedtogether, the silent spaces of the great wilderness shut them in, its mystery beguiling yet bewildering them, and the deep woodswith their unfamiliar trees, the dark pines on the hill-side, allheld the sense of banishment and even terror. There is small tokenof her own thoughts or feelings, in any lines of hers, till latein life, when she dropped once for all the methods that pleasedher early years, and in both prose and poetry spoke her real mindwith a force that fills one with regret at the waste of power inthe dreary pages of the "Four Monarchies. " That she had keensusceptibility to natural beauty this later poem abundantlyproves, but in most of them there is hardly a hint of what musthave impressed itself upon her, though probably it was the morevalued by her readers, for this very reason. 

CHAPTER XII. 

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Though the series of quaternions which form the major part of thepoems, have separate titles and were written at various times, they are in fact a single poem, containing sixteen personifiedcharacters, all of them giving their views with dreary facilityand all of them to the Puritan mind, eminently correct andrespectable personalities. The "Four Seasons" won especialcommendations from her most critical readers, but for all of themthere seems to have been a delighted acceptance of every word thisphenomenal woman had thought it good to pen. Even fifty years ago, a woman's work, whether prose or verse, which came before thepublic, was hailed with an enthusiastic appreciation, it isdifficult to-day to comprehend, Mrs. S. C. Hall emphasizing thisin a paragraph on Hannah More, who held much the relation to oldEngland that Anne Bradstreet did to the New. "In this age, whenfemale talent is so rife--when, indeed, it is not too much to saywomen have fully sustained their right to equality with men inreference to all the productions of the mind--it is difficult tocomprehend the popularity, almost amounting to adoration, withwhich a woman writer was regarded little more than half a centuryago. Mediocrity was magnified into genius, and to have printed abook, or to have written even a tolerable poem, was a passportinto the very highest society. "

Even greater veneration was felt in days when many women, even ofgood birth, could barely write their own names, and if AnneBradstreet had left behind her nothing but the quaternions, shewould long have ranked as a poet deserving of all the elegies andanagrammatic tributes the Puritan divine loved to manufacture. The"Four Seasons, " which might have been written in Lincolnshire andholds not one suggestion of the new life and methods the colonistswere fast learning, may have been enjoyed because of its remindersof the old home. Certainly the "nightingale and thrush" did notsing under Cambridge windows, nor did the "primrose pale, " fillthe hands of the children who ran over the New England meadows. Itseems to have been her theory that certain well established formsmust be preserved, and so she wrote the conventional phrases ofthe poet of the seventeenth century, only a line or two indicatingthe real power of observation she failed to exercise. 

 THE FOUR SEASONS OF THE YEAR. 

 _SPRING. _

 Another four I've left yet to bring on, Of four times four the last Quarternion, The Winter, Summer, Autumn & the Spring, In season all these Seasons I shall bring; Sweet Spring like man in his Minority, At present claim'd, and had priority. With Smiling face and garments somewhat green, She trim'd her locks, which late had frosted been, Nor hot nor cold, she spake, but with a breath, Fit to revive, the nummed earth from death. Three months (quoth she) are 'lotted to my share March, April, May of all the rest most fair. Tenth of the first, Sol into Aries enters, And bids defiance to all tedious winters, Crosseth the Line, and equals night and day, (Stil adds to th' last til after pleasant May) And now makes glad the darkned nothern nights Who for some months have seen but starry lights. Now goes the Plow-man to his merry toyle, He might unloose his winter locked soyle; The Seeds-man too, doth lavish out his grain, In hope the more he casts, the more to gain; The Gardener now superfluous branches lops, And poles erect for his young clambring hops. Now digs then sowes his herbs, his flowers & roots And carefully manures his trees of fruits. The Pleiades their influence now give, And all that seemed as dead afresh doth live. The croaking frogs, whom nipping winter kil'd Like birds now chirp, and hop about the field, The Nightingale, the black-bird and the Thrush Now tune their layes, on sprayes of every bush. 

 The wanton frisking Kid, and soft fleec'd Lambs Do jump and play before their feeding Dams, The tender tops of budding grass they crop, They joy in what they have, but more in hope: For though the frost hath lost his binding power, Yet many a fleece of snow and stormy shower Doth darken Sol's bright eye, makes us remember The pinching North-west wind of cold December. My Second month is April, green and fair, Of longer dayes, and a more temperate Air: The Sun in Taurus keeps his residence, And with his warmer beams glareeth from thence This is the month whose fruitful showers produces All set and sown for all delights and uses: The Pear, the Plum, and Apple-tree now flourish The grass grows long the hungry beast to nourish The Primrose pale, and azure violet Among the virduous grass hath nature set, That when the Sun on's Love (the earth) doth shine These might as lace set out her garments fine. The fearfull bird his little house now builds In trees and walls, in Cities and in fields. The outside strong, the inside warm and neat; A natural Artificer compleat. The clocking hen her chirping chickins leads With wings & beak defends them from the gleads My next and last is fruitfull pleasant May, Wherein the earth is clad in rich aray, The Sun now enters loving Gemini, And heats us with the glances of his eye, Our thicker rayment makes us lay aside Lest by his fervor we be torrified. All flowers the Sun now with his beams discloses, Except the double pinks and matchless Roses. Now swarms the busy, witty, honey-Bee, Whose praise deserves a page from more than me The cleanly Huswife's Dary's now in th' prime, Her shelves and firkins fill'd for winter time. The meads with Cowslips, Honey-suckles dight, One hangs his head, the other stands upright: But both rejoice at th' heaven's clear smiling face, More at her showers, which water them apace. For fruits my Season yields the early Cherry, The hasty Peas, and wholsome cool Strawberry. More solid fruits require a longer time, Each Season hath its fruit, so hath each Clime: Each man his own peculiar excellence, But none in all that hath preheminence. Sweet fragrant Spring, with thy short pittance fly Let some describe thee better than can I. Yet above all this priviledg is thine, Thy dayes still lengthen without least decline:

 _SUMMER. _

 When Spring had done, the Summer did begin, With melted tauny face, and garments thin, Resembling Fire, Choler, and Middle age, As Spring did Air, Blood, Youth in 's equipage. Wiping the sweat from of her face that ran, With hair all wet she pussing thus began; Bright June, July and August hot are mine, In th' first Sol doth in crabbed Cancer shine. His progress to the North now's fully done, Then retrograde must be my burning Sun, Who to his Southward Tropick still is bent, Yet doth his parching heat but more augment Though he decline, because his flames so fair, Have throughly dry'd the earth, and heat the air. Like as an Oven that long time hath been heat, Whose vehemency at length doth grow so great, That if you do withdraw her burning store, 'Tis for a time as fervent as before. Now go those foolick Swains, the Shepherd Lads To wash the thick cloth'd flocks with pipes full glad In the cool streams they labour with delight Rubbing their dirty coats till they look white; Whose fleece when finely spun and deeply dy'd With Robes thereof Kings have been dignified, Blest rustick Swains, your pleasant quiet life, Hath envy bred in Kings that were at strife, Careless of worldly wealth you sing and pipe, Whilst they'r imbroyl'd in wars & troubles rife: Wich made great Bajazet cry out in 's woes, Oh happy shepherd which hath not to lose. 

 Orthobulus, nor yet Sebastia great, But whist'leth to thy flock in cold and heat. Viewing the Sun by day, the Moon by night Endimions, Dianaes dear delight, Upon the grass resting your healthy limbs, By purling Brooks looking how fishes swims, If pride within your lowly Cells ere haunt, Of him that was Shepherd then King go vaunt. This moneth the Roses are distil'd in glasses, Whose fragrant smel all made perfumes surpasses The cherry, Gooseberry are now in th' prime, And for all sorts of Pease, this is the time. July my next, the hott'st in all the year, The sun through Leo now takes his Career, Whose flaming breath doth melt us from afar, Increased by the star Ganicular, This month from Julius Ceasar took its name, By Romans celebrated to his fame. Now go the Mowers to their flashing toyle, The Meadowes of their riches to dispoyle, With weary strokes, they take all in their way, Bearing the burning heat of the long day. The forks and Rakes do follow them amain, Wich makes the aged fields look young again, The groaning Carts do bear away their prize, To Stacks and Barns where it for Fodder lyes. My next and last is August fiery hot (For much, the Southward Sun abateth not) This Moneth he keeps with Vigor for a space, The dry'ed Earth is parched with his face. August of great Augustus took its name, Romes second Emperour of lasting fame, With sickles now the bending Reapers goe The rustling tress of terra down to mowe; And bundles up in sheaves, the weighty wheat, Which after Manchet makes for Kings to eat: The Barly, Rye and Pease should first had place, Although their bread have not so white a face. The Carter leads all home with whistling voyce. He plow'd with pain, but reaping doth rejoice, His sweat, his toyle, his careful wakeful nights, His fruitful Crop abundantly requites. Now's ripe the Pear, Pear-plumb and Apricock, The prince of plumbs, whose stone's as hard as Rock The Summer seems but short, the Autumn hasts To shake his fruits, of most delicious tasts Like good old Age, whose younger juicy Roots Hath still ascended, to bear goodly fruits. Until his head be gray, and strength be gone. Yet then appears the worthy deeds he'th done: To feed his boughs exhausted hath his Sap, Then drops his fruit into the eaters lap. 

 _AUTUMN. _

 Of Autumn moneths September is the prime, Now day and night are equal in each Clime, The twelfth of this Sol riseth in the Line, And doth in poizing Libra this month shine. The vintage now is ripe, the grapes are prest, Whose lively liquor oft is curs'd and blest: For nought so good, but it may be abused, But its a precious juice when well its used. The raisins now in clusters dryed be, The Orange, Lemon dangle on the tree: The Pomegranate, the Fig are ripe also, And Apples now their yellow sides do show. Of Almonds, Quinces, Wardens, and of Peach, The season's now at hand of all and each, Sure at this time, time first of all began, And in this moneth was made apostate man: For then in Eden was not only seen, Boughs full of leaves, or fruits unripe or green, Or withered stocks, which were all dry and dead, But trees with goodly fruits replenished; Which shows nor Summer, Winter nor the Spring Our Grand-Sire was of Paradice made King: Nor could that temp'rate Clime such difference make, If cited as the most Judicious take. October is my next, we hear in this The Northern winter-blasts begin to hip, In Scorpio resideth now the Sun, And his declining heat is almost done. The fruitless trees all withered now do stand, Whose sapless yellow leavs, by winds are fan'd Which notes when youth and strength have passed their prime Decrepit age must also have its time. 

 The Sap doth slily creep toward the Earth There rests, until the Sun give it a birth. So doth old Age still tend until his grave, Where also he his winter time must have; But when the Sun of righteousness draws nigh, His dead old stock, shall mount again on high. November is my last, for Time doth haste, We now of winters sharpness 'gins to taste This moneth the Sun's in Sagitarius, So farre remote, his glances warm not us. Almost at shortest, is the shorten'd day, The Northern pole beholdeth not one ray, Nor Greenland, Groanland, Finland, Lapland, see No Sun, to lighten their obscurity; Poor wretches that in total darkness lye, With minds more dark then is the dark'ned Sky. Beaf, Brawn, and Pork are now in great request, And solid meats our stomacks can digest. This time warm cloaths, full diet, and good fires, Our pinched flesh, and hungry marres requires; Old cold, dry Age, and Earth Autumn resembles, And Melancholy which most of all dissembles. I must be short, and shorts the short'ned day, What winter hath to tell, now let him say. 

 _WINTER. _

 Cold, moist, young flegmy winter now doth lye In swaddling Clouts, like new born Infancy Bound up with frosts, and furr'd with hail & snows, And like an Infant, still it taller grows; December is my first, and now the Sun To th' Southward Tropick, his swift race doth run: This moneth he's hous'd in horned Capricorn, From thence he 'gins to length the shortned morn, Through Christendome with great Feastivity, Now's held, (but ghest) for blest Nativity, Cold frozen January next comes in, Chilling the blood and shrinking up the skin; In Aquarius now keeps the long wisht Sun, And Northward his unwearied Course doth run: The day much longer then it was before, The cold not lessened, but augmented more. Now Toes and Ears, and Fingers often freeze, And Travellers their noses sometimes leese. 

 Moist snowie Feburary is my last, I care not how the winter time doth haste, In Pisces now the golden Sun doth shine, And Northward still approaches to the Line, The rivers 'gin to ope, the snows to melt, And some warm glances from his face are felt; Which is increased by the lengthen'd day, Until by's heat, he drives all cold away, And thus the year in Circle runneth round: Where first it did begin, in th' end its found. 

With the final lines a rush of dissatisfaction came over thewriter, and she added certain couplets, addressed to her father, for whom the whole set seems to have been originally written, andwho may be responsible in part for the bald and didactic qualityof most of her work. 

 My Subjects bare, my Brain is bad, Or better Lines you should have had; The first fell in so nat'rally, I knew not how to pass it by; The last, though bad I could not mend, Accept therefore of what is pen'd, And all the faults that you shall spy Shall at your feet for pardon cry. 

Mr. John Harvard Ellis has taken pains to compare various passagesin her "Four Monarchies" with the sources from which herinformation was derived, showing a similarity as close as thedifference between prose and verse would admit. One illustrationof this will be sufficient. In the description of the murder ofthe philosopher Callisthenes by Alexander the Great, which occursin her account of the Grecian Monarchy, she writes:

 The next of worth that suffered after these, Was learned, virtuous, wise Calisthenes, Who loved his Master more than did the rest, As did appear, in flattering him the least; In his esteem a God he could not be, Nor would adore him for a Deity. For this alone and for no other cause, Against his Sovereign, or against his Laws, He on the Rack his Limbs in pieces rent, Thus was he tortur'd till his life was spent Of this unkingly act doth Seneca This censure pass, and not unwisely say, Of Alexander this the eternal crime, Which shall not be obliterate by time. Which virtue's fame can ne're redeem by far, Nor all felicity of his in war. 

 When e're 'tis said he thousand thousands slew, Yea, and Calisthenes to death he drew. The mighty Persian King he over came, Yea, and he killed Calisthenes of fame. All countreyes, Kingdomes, Provinces he won, From Hellespont, to the farthest Ocean. All this he did, who knows not to be true? But yet withal, Calisthenes he slew. From Nacedon, his English did extend, Unto the utmost bounds o' th' Orient, All this he did, yea, and much more 'tis true, But yet withal, Calisthenes he slew. 

The quotation from Raleigh's "History of the World, " whichfollows, will be seen to hold in many lines the identical words. 

"Alexander stood behind a partition, and heard all that wasspoken, waiting but an opportunity to be revenged on Callisthenes, who being a man of free speech, honest, learned, and a lover ofthe king's honour, was yet soon after tormented to death, not forthat he had betrayed the king to others, but because he neverwould condescend to betray the king to himself, as all hisdetestable flatterers did. For in a conspiracy against the king, made by one Hermolaus and others, (which they confessed, ) hecaused Callisthenes, without confession, accusation or trial, tobe torn assunder upon the rack. This deed, unworthy of a king, Seneca thus censureth. [He gives the Latin, and thus translatesit. ] 'This is the eternal crime of Alexander, which no virtue norfelicity of his in war shall ever be able to redeem. For as oftenas any man shall say, He slew many thousand Persians, it shall bereplied, He did so, and he slew Callisthenes; when it shall besaid, He slew Darius, it shall be replied, And Callisthenes; whenit shall be said, He won all as far as to the very ocean, thereonalso he adventured with unusual navies, and extended his empirefrom a corner of Thrace, to the utmost bounds of the orient; itshall be said withal, But he killed Callisthenes. Let him haveoutgone all the ancient examples of captains and kings, none ofall his acts makes so much to his glory, as Callisthenes to hisreproach'. "

The school girl of the present day could furnish such arrangementsof her historical knowledge with almost as fluent a pen as that ofMistress Bradstreet, who is, however, altogether innocent of anyintention to deceive any of her readers. The unlearned praised herdepth of learning, but she knew well that every student into whosehands the book might fall, would recognize the source from whichshe had drawn, and approve the method of its use. Evidently therewas nothing very vital to her in these records of dynasties andwars, for not a line indicates any thrill of feeling at the talesshe chronicles. Yet the feeling was there, though reserved for alater day. It is with her own time, or with the "glorious reign ofgood Queen Bess, " that she forgets to be didactic and allowsherself here and there, a natural and vigorous expression ofthought or feeling. There was capacity for hero-worship, in thiswoman, who repressed as far as she had power, the feeling andpassion that sometimes had their way, though immediately subduedand chastened, and sent back to the durance in which all feelingwas held. But her poem on Queen Elizabeth has here and there aquiet sarcasm, and at one point at least rises into a fine scornof the normal attitude toward women:

 She hath wip'd off the aspersion of her Sex, That women wisdome lack to play the Rex. 

Through the whole poem runs an evident, almost joyous delight inwhat a woman has achieved, and as she passes from point to point, gathering force with every period, she turns suddenly upon alldetractors with these ringing lines:

 Now say, have women worth or have they none? Or had they some, but with our Queen is't gone? Nay, masculines, you have thus taxed us long; But she, though dead, will vindicate our wrong. Let such as say our sex is void of reason, Know 'tis a slander now, but once was treason. 

Sir Philip Sidney fills her with mixed feeling, her sense that his"Arcadia" was of far too fleshly and soul-beguiling an order ofliterature, battling with her admiration for his character as aman, and making a diverting conflict between reason andinclination. As with Queen Elizabeth, she compromised by merelyhinting her opinion of certain irregularities, and hastened tocover any damaging admission with a mantle of high and evenenthusiastic eulogy. 

 AN ELEGIE

 upon that Honourable and renowned Knight _Sir Philip Sidney, _ who was untimely slain at the Siege of Zutphen, _Anno, 1586. _

 When England did enjoy her Halsion dayes, Her noble Sidney wore the Crown of Bayes; As well an honour to our British Land, As she that swayed the Scepter with her hand; Mars and Minerva did in one agree, Of Arms and Arts he should a pattern be, Calliope with Terpsichore did sing, Of poesie, and of musick, he was King; His Rhetorick struck Polimina dead, His Eloquence made Mercury wax red; His Logick from Euterpe won the Crown, More worth was his then Clio could set down. Thalia and Melpomene say truth, Witness Arcadia penned in his youth, Are not his tragick Comedies so acted, As if your ninefold wit had been compacted. To shew the world, they never saw before, That this one Volume should exhaust your store; His wiser dayes condemned his witty works, Who knows the spels that in his Rhetorick lurks, But some infatuate fools soon caught therein, Fond Cupids Dame had never such a gin, Which makes severer eyes but slight that story, And men of morose minds envy his glory: But he's a Beetle-head that can't descry A world of wealth within that rubbish lye, And doth his name, his work, his honour wrong, The brave refiner of our British tongue, That sees not learning, valour and morality, Justice, friendship, and kind hospitality, Yea and Divinity within his book, Such were prejudicate, and did not look. In all Records his name I ever see Put with an Epithite of dignity, Which shows his worth was great, his honour such, The love his Country ought him, was as much. Then let none disallow of these my straines Whilst English blood yet runs within my veins, O brave Achilles, I wish some Homer would Engrave in Marble, with Characters of gold The valiant feats thou didst on Flanders coast, Which at this day fair Belgia may boast. The more I say, the more thy worth I stain, Thy fame and praise is far beyond my strain, O Zutphen, Zutphen that most fatal City Made famous by thy death, much more the pity: Ah! in his blooming prime death pluckt this rose E're he was ripe, his thread cut Atropos. Thus man is born to dye, and dead is he, Brave Hector, by the walls of Troy we see. O who was near thee but did sore repine He rescued not with life that life of thine; But yet impartial Fates this boon did give, Though Sidney di'd his valiant name should live: And live it doth in spight of death through fame, Thus being overcome, he overcame. Where is that envious tongue, but can afford Of this our noble Scipio some good word. 

 Great Bartas this unto thy praise adds more, In sad sweet verse, thou didst his death deplore. And Phoenix Spencer doth unto his life, His death present in sable to his wife. Stella the fair, whose streams from Conduits fell For the sad loss of her Astrophel. Fain would I show how he fame's paths did tread, But now into such Lab'rinths I am lead, With endless turnes, the way I find not out, How to persist my Muse is more in doubt; Wich makes me now with Silvester confess, But Sidney's Muse can sing his worthiness. The Muses aid I craved, they had no will To give to their Detractor any quill, With high disdain, they said they gave no more, Since Sidney had exhausted all their store. They took from me the Scribling pen I had, I to be eas'd of such a task was glad Then to reveng this wrong, themselves engage, And drove me from Parnassus in a rage. 

 Then wonder not if I no better sped, Since I the Muses thus have injured. I pensive for my fault, sate down, and then Errata through their leave, threw me my pen, My Poem to conclude, two lines they deign Which writ, she bad return't to them again; So Sidneys fame I leave to Englands Rolls, His bones do lie interr'd in stately Pauls. 

 _HIS EPITAPH. _

 Here lies in fame under this stone, Philip and Alexander both in one; Heir to the Muses, the Son of Mars in Truth, Learning, Valour, Wisdome, all in virtuous youth, His praise is much, this shall suffice my pen, That Sidney dy'd 'mong most renown'd of men. 

With Du Bartas, there is no hesitation or qualification. Steepedin the spirit of his verse, she was unconscious how far he hadmoulded both thought and expression, yet sufficiently aware of hisinfluence to feel it necessary to assert at many points herfreedom from it. But, as we have already seen, he was the Puritanpoet, and affected every rhymester of the time, to a degree whichit required generations to shake off. In New England, however, even he, in time came to rank as light-minded, and the last shadowof poetry fled before the metrical horrors of the Bay Psalm Book, which must have lent a terror to rhyme, that one could wish mightbe transferred to the present day. The elegy on Du Bartas is allthe proof needed to establish Anne Bradstreet as one of his mostloyal followers, and in spite of all protest to the contrary suchshe was and will remain. 

 IN HONOUR OF DU BARTAS. 

 Among the happy wits this age hath shown Great, dear, sweet Bartas thou art matchless known; My ravished eyes and heart with faltering tongue, In humble wise have vowed their service long But knowing th' task so great & strength but small, Gave o're the work before begun withal, My dazled sight of late reviewed thy lines, Where Art, and more than Art in nature shines, Reflection from their beaming altitude Did thaw my frozen hearts ingratitude Which rayes darting upon some richer ground Had caused flours and fruits soon to abound, But barren I, my Dasey here do bring, A homely flower in this my latter Spring, If Summer, or my Autumm age do yield Flours, fruits, in Garden Orchard, or in Field, Volleyes of praises could I eccho then, Had I an Angels voice, or Bartas pen; But wishes can't accomplish my desire, Pardon if I adore, when I admire. O France thou did'st in him more glory gain Then in St. Lewes, or thy last Henry Great, Who tam'd his foes in warrs, in bloud and sweat, Thy fame is spread as far, I dare be bold, In all the Zones, the temp'rate, hot and cold, Their Trophies were but heaps of wounded slain, Shine the quintessence of an heroick brain. The oaken Garland ought to deck their brows, Immortal Bayes to thee all men allows, Who in thy tryumphs never won by wrongs, Lead'st millions chained by eyes, by ears, by tongues, Oft have I wondred at the hand of heaven, In giving one what would have served seven, If e're this golden gift was show'd on any, They shall be consecrated in my Verse, And prostrate offered at great Bartas Herse; My muse unto a child I may compare Who sees the riches of some famous Fair, He feeds his Eyes, but understanding lacks To comprehend the worth of all those knacks The glittering plate and Jewels he admires, The Hats and Fans, the Plumes and Ladies tires, And thousand times his mazed mind doth wish, Some part (at least) of that great wealth was his, But feeling empty wishes nought obtain, At night turnes to his mothers cot again, And tells her tales, (his full heart over glad) Of all the glorious sights his Eyes have had; But finds too soon his want of Eloquence, The silly prattler speaks no word of sense; But feeling utterance fail his great desires Sits down in silence, deeply he admires, Thus weak brained I, reading thy lofty stile, Thy profound learning, viewing other while; Thy Art in natural Philosophy, Thy Saint like mind in grave Divinity; Thy piercing skill in high Astronomy, And curious insight in anatomy; Thy Physick, musick and state policy, Valour in warr, in peace good husbandry, Sure lib'ral Nature did with Art not small, In all the arts make thee most liberal, A thousand thousand times my senseless sences Moveless stand charmed by thy sweet influences; More senseless then the stones to Amphious Luto, Mine eyes are sightless, and my tongue is mute, My full astonish'd heart doth pant to break, Through grief it wants a faculty to speak; Thy double portion would have served many, Unto each man his riches is assign'd Of name, of State, of Body and of mind:

 Thou had'st thy part of all, but of the last, O pregnant brain, O comprehension vast; Thy haughty Stile and rapted wit sublime All ages wondring at, shall never climb, Thy sacred works are not for imitation, But monuments to future admiration, Thus Bartas fame shall last while starrs do satnd, And whilst there's Air or Fire, or Sea or Land. But least my ignorance shall do thee wrong, To celebrate thy merits in my Song. He leave thy praise to those shall do thee right, Good will, not skill, did cause me bring my mite. 

 HIS EPITAPH. Here lyes the Pearle of France, Parnassus glory; The World rejoyc'd at's birth, at's death, was sorry, Art and Nature joyn'd, by heavens high decree Naw shew'd what once they ought, Humanity! And Natures Law, had it been revocable To rescue him from death, Art had been able, But Nature vanquish'd Art, so Bartas dy'd; But Fame out-living both, he is reviv'd. 

Bare truth as every line surely appeared to the woman who wrote, let us give thanks devoutly that the modern mind holds no capacityfor the reproduction of that

 "Haughty Stile and rapted wit sublime All ages wond'ring at shall never climb, "

and that more truly than she knew, his

 "Sacred works are not for imitation But Monuments to future Admiration. "

Not the "future Admiration" she believed his portion, but tothe dead reputation which, fortunately for us, can have noresurrection. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

CHANCES AND CHANGES. 

With the appearance of the little volume and the passing of theflutter of interest and excitement it had aroused, the Andoverlife subsided into the channel through which, save for one or twobreaks, it was destined to run for many years. Until 1653, nothingof note had taken place, but this year brought two events, onefull of the proud but quiet satisfaction the Puritan mother feltin a son who had ended his college course with distinction, andcome home to renew the associations somewhat broken in his fouryears absence; the other, a sorrow though hardly an unexpectedone. Samuel Bradstreet, who became a physician, living for manyyears in Boston, which he finally left for the West Indies, wasabout twenty at the time of his graduation from Harvard, thesuccess of which was very near Anne Bradstreet's heart and thepride of his grandfather, Governor Dudley, who barely lived to seethe fruition of his wishes for this first child of his favoritedaughter. His death in July, 1653, softened the feeling that seemsslowly to have arisen against him in the minds of many who hadbeen his friends, not without reason, though many of them hadshowed quite as thorough intolerance as he. With increasing years, Dudley's spirit had hardened and embittered against all whoventured to differ from the cast-iron theology his soul loved. Bradstreet and Winthrop had both been a cross to him with thetoleration which seemed to him the child of Satan himself. Hisintense will had often drawn concessions from Winthrop at whichhis feelings revolted and he pursued every sort of sectary with azeal that never flagged. Hutchinson wrote: "He was zealous beyondmeasure against all sorts of heretics, " and Roger Williams saidbitterly: "It is known who hindered but never promoted the libertyof other men's consciences. "

Between the "vagaries of many sectaries, " the persistent andirrepressible outbreaks from Roger Williams, the bewildering andconfounding presumption of Anne Hutchinson, who seems to have beenthe forerunner of other Boston agitations of like nature, GovernorDudley's last days were full of astonishments, not the least beingthe steady though mild opposition of his son-in-law Bradstreet toall harsh measures. Toleration came to seem to him at last thecrowning sin of all the ages, and his last recorded written wordsare a valiant testimony against it. There was a curious tendencyto rhyme in the gravest of these decorous Fathers; a tendencycarefully concealed by some, as in John Winthrop's case, whoconfined his "dropping into poetry" to the margins of hisalmanacs. Others were less distrustful, and printed their "painfulverses" on broad sheets, for general circulation and oppression. Governor Dudley rhymed but once, but in the bald and unequallines, found in his pocket after death, condensed his views of allwho had disagreed from him, as well as the honest, sturdyconviction in which he lived and died. They were written evidentlybut a short time before his death, and are in the beginning muchafter the order of his daughter's first poem. 

 Dim Eyes, deaf Ears, cold Stomach, shew My dissolution is in view, Eleven times seven near liv'd have I. And now God calls I willing Die, My Shuttle's shot, my Race is run, My Sun is set, my Day is done. My span is measured, Tale is told, My Flower is faded and grown old. My Dream is vanish'd, Shadows fled, My Soul with Christ, my Body Dead, Farewel dear Wife, Children and Friends, Hate Heresie, make Blessed Ends, Bear Poverty, live with good Men; So shall we live with Joy agen. Let men of God in Courts and Churches watch, O're such as do a Toleration hatch, Lest that ill Egg bring forth a Cockatrice To poison all with Heresie and Vice. If Men be left and otherwise Combine, My epitaph's I DY'D NO LIBERTINE. 

To the old Puritan, scowling to the last at any shade ofdifference from the faith to which he would willingly have been amartyr, a "Libertine" included all blasphemous doubters anddefiers of current beliefs--Quakers, Antinomians and otherpestilent people who had already set the Colony by the ears andwere soon to accomplish much more in this direction. The verseswere at once creed and protest, and are a fair epitome of thePuritan mind in 1650. Other rhymes from other hands had expressedequally uncompromising opinions. He had survived the anagramaticwarning sent to him by an unknown hand in 1645, which still standson the files of the first Church in Roxbury, and which may havebeen written by one of his opponents in the General Court. 

 THOMAS DUDLEY. 

 Ah! old must dye, A death's head on your hand you need not weare; A dying head you on your shoulders bear; You need not one to mind you you must dye, You in your name may spell mortalitye. Young men may dye, but old men, these dye must, 'Twill not be long before you turn to dust. Before you turn to dust! ah! must! old! dye! What shall young men doe, when old in dust do lye? When old in dust lye, what New England doe? When old in dust do lye it's best dye too. 

Death condoned these offences, and left only the memory of hisimpartial justice and his deep and earnest piety, and Morton wroteof him, what expressed the feeling even of his enemies: "His loveto justice appeared at all times, and in special upon thejudgement seat, without respect of persons in judgement, and inhis own particular transactions with all men, he was exact andexemplary. His zeal to order appeared in contriving good laws andfaithfully executing them upon criminal offenders, heretics andunderminers of true religion. He had a piercing judgement todiscover the wolf, though clothed with a sheepskin. His love tothe people was evident, in serving them in a public capacity manyyears at his own cost, and that as a nursing father to thechurches of Christ. He loved the true Christian religion, and thepure worship of God, and cherished as in his bosom, all godlyministers and Christians. He was exact in the practice of piety, in his person and family, all his life. In a word he liveddesired, and died lamented by all good men. "

This was stronger language than the majority of his fellow-colonists would have been inclined to use, his differences withGovernor Winthrop having embittered many of the latter's friends. Winthrop's persistent gentleness went far toward quieting thefeeling against him, which seems to have taken deep root inDudley's breast, but the jealousy of his authority, andquestioning of his judgement, though perhaps natural from theolder man, brought about many uncomfortable complications. All thetowns about Boston had been ordered to send their quota to aid infinishing the fort built in 1633, but Governor Dudley would notallow any party from Newtown to be made up, nor would he give thereason for such course to Governor Winthrop. There was cause, forSalem and Saugus had failed to pay their share of money, andDudley's sense of justice would not allow his constituents to dotheir share till all had paid the amount levied. Remonstratedwith, he wrote a most unpleasant letter, a habit of his whenoffended, refusing to act till the reluctant Salem had paid. Thisletter, brought to Winthrop by Mr. Hooker, he returned to him atonce. The rest of the story may be given in his own words. Therecord stands in his journal given in the third person, and asimpartially as if told of another: "The governour told them itshould rest till the court, and withal gave the letter to Mr. Hooker with this speech: I am not willing to keep such an occasionof provocation by me. And soon after he wrote to the deputy (whohad before desired to buy a fat hog or two of him, being somewhatshort of provisions) to desire him to send for one, (which hewould have sent him, if he had known when his occasion had been tohave made use of it), and to accept it as a testimony of his goodwill; and lest he should make any scruple of it, he made Mr. Haynes and Mr. Hooker, (who both sojurned in his house) partakerswith him. Upon this the deputy returned this answer: 'Yourovercoming yourself hath overcome me. Mr. Haynes, Mr. Hooker, andmyself, do most kindly accept your good will, but we desire, without offence, to refuse your offer, and that I may only tradewith you for two hogs;' and so very lovingly concluded. "

There was no word, however, of yielding the disputed point, whichwas settled for him a few days later. "The court being two daysafter, ordered, that Newtown should do their work as others haddone, and then Salem, &c. , should pay for three days at eighteenpence a man. "

The records of that time hold instance after instance of theold man's obstinacy and Winthrop's gentle and most patientconsideration. To Anne, however, who came in contact only with hismilder side, it was an irreparable loss, and she never spoke ofhim save with grateful and tender remembrance, her elegy on hisdeath, though conventional as the time made her, being full of thesorrow time soothed but never destroyed. 

 _To the Memory of my dear and ever honoured Father, _ _Thomas Dudley Esq. _

 _Who deceased July 31, 1653, and of his Age, 77. _

 By duty bound, and not by custome led To celebrate the praises of the dead, My mournfull mind, sore prest, in trembling verse Presents my Lamentations at his Herse, Who was my Father, Guide, Instructor too, To whom I ought whatever I could doe: Nor is't Relation near my hand shall tye; For who more cause to boast his worth than I? Who heard or saw, observed or knew him better? Or who alive then I, a greater debtor? Let malice bite, and envy knaw its fill, He was my Father, and Ile praise him still. Nor was his name, or life lead so obscure That pitty might some Trumpeters procure. Who after death might make him falsly seen Such as in life, no man could justly deem. Well known and lov'd where ere he liv'd, by most Both in his native, and in foreign coast, These to the world his merits could make known, So needs no Testimonial from his own; But now or never I must pay my Sum; While others tell his worth, Ile not be dumb: One of thy Founders, him New England know, Who staid thy feeble sides when thou wast low, Who spent his state, his strength & years with care That After-comers in them might have a share, True Patriot of this little Commonweal, Who is't can tax thee ought, but for thy zeal? Truths friend thou wert, to errors still a foe, Which caus'd Apostates to maligne so. Thy love to true Religion e're shall shine, My Fathers God, be God of me and mine, Upon the earth he did not build his nest, But as a Pilgrim. What he had, possest, High thoughts he gave no harbour in his heart, Nor honours pufft him up, when he had part; Those titles loathed, which some do too much love For truly his ambition lay above. His humble mind so lov'd humility, He left it to his race for Legacy; And oft and oft, with speeches mild and wise, Gave his in charge, that Jewel rich to prize. No ostentation seen in all his wayes, As in the mean ones of our foolish dayes. Which all they have, and more still set to view, Their greatness may be judg'd by what they shew. His thoughts were more sublime, his actions wise, Such vanityes he justly did despise. Nor wonder 'twas, low things n'er much did move For he a Mansion had, prepar'd above, For which he sigh'd and pray'd & long'd full sore He might be cloath'd upon, for evermore. Oft spake of death, and with a smiling chear, He did exult his end was drawing near, Now fully ripe, as shock of wheat that's grown, Death as a Sickle hath him timely mown, And in celestial Barn hath hous'd him high, Where storms, nor showrs, nor ought can damnifie. His Generation serv'd, his labours cease; And to his Fathers gathered is in peace. Ah happy Soul, 'mongst Saints and Angels blest, Who after all his toyle, is now at rest: His hoary head in righteousness was found; As joy in heaven on earth let praise resound. Forgotten never be his memory, His blessing rest on his posterity: His pious Footsteps followed by his race, At last will bring us to that happy place Where we with joy each other's face shall see, And parted more by death shall never be. 

 HIS EPITAPH. 

 Within this Tomb a Patriot lyes That was both pious, just and wise, To Truth a shield, to right a Wall, To Sectaryes a whip and Maul, A Magazine of History, A Prizer of good Company In manners pleasant and severe The Good him lov'd, the bad did fear, And when his time with years was spent If some rejoyc'd, more did lament. 

Of the nine children, of whom Anne Bradstreet was the mostdistinguished, the oldest son of his second wife took mostimportant part in the colonial life. Joseph Dudley, who was bornin 1647, became "Governor of Massachusetts, Lieutenant-Governor ofthe Isle of Wight, and first Chief-Justice of New York. He hadthirteen children, one of whom, Paul, was also a distinguishedman; being Attorney-General and afterward Chief-Justice ofMassachusetts, Fellow of the Royal Society, and founder of theDudleian Lectures at Harvard College. " His honors came to himafter the sister who prized them most had passed on to the Heavenfor which, even when happiest, she daily longed. None of the sonspossessed the strong characteristics of the father, but sons anddaughters alike seem to have inherited his love of books, as wellas of hospitality, and the name for every descendant has alwaysheld honor, and often, more than fair ability. The preponderanceof ministers in every generation may, also, still gladden theheart of the argumentative ancestor whose dearest pleasure was aprotracted tussle with the five points, and their infinitelyramifying branches, aided and encouraged by the good wine andgenerous cheer he set, with special relish, before all who couldmeet him on his own ground. 

It was fortunate for the daughter that many fresh interests werespringing up in her own family, which in 1654, received a newmember. One had already been added, in the person of the youngestson John, who had been born in 1652, and was still a baby, and nowmarriage gave another son, who valued her almost as heartily asher own. Seaborn Cotton, whose name held always a reminder of thestormy days on which his eyes opened, had grown into a decorousyouth, a course at Harvard, and an entering of his father'sprofession, and though the old record holds no details, it is easyto read between the lines, the story that told itself alike toPuritan and Cavalier, and to which Mistress Dorothy listened witha flutter beneath the gray gown that could not disguise the prettygirlish outlines of her dainty figure. Dorothy, as well as theother daughters, had been carefully trained in every housewifelyart, and though part of her mother's store of linen bleached inLincolnshire meadows, may have helped to swell her simple outfit, it is probable that she spun and wove much of it herself. Afulling mill, where the cloth made at home was finished andpressed, had been built very early in the history of the town, andwhile there were "spinsters" who went from house to house, much ofthe work was done by mother and daughters. Seaborn Cotton, whomust often during his courtship have ridden over from Boston, found Dorothy like the Priscilla she may have known, busy in thegraceful fashion of that older time, and--

. . . As he opened the door, he beheld the form of the maiden Seatedbeside her wheel, and the carded wool like a snow-drift Piled ather knee, her white hands feeding the ravenous spindle, While withher foot on the treadle she guided the wheel in its motion. 

Like Priscilla, too, she must have said--

. . . I knew it was you, when I heard your step in the passage, ForI was thinking of you as I sat there spinning and singing. 

Dorothy had in full her mother's power of quiet devotion, andbecame a model mother, as well as minister's wife, for the parishat Hampton, N. H. , where the young pastor began work in 1659, andwhere after twenty-eight years of such labor as came to allpioneers, she passed on, leaving nine children, whose name isstill a familiar one in New England. Though the date of the nextdaughter's marriage is not quite as certain, it is given by someauthorities as having taken place in the previous year, and in anycase was within a few months of the same time. Contrary to theusual Puritan rule, which gave to most men from two to four wives, Sarah outlived her first husband, and married again, when amiddle-aged but still young-hearted woman. 

Marriage inevitably held some suggestion at least of merry-making, but the ceremony had been shorn of all possible resemblance to itsEnglish form. The Puritans were in terror lest any Prelaticalsuperstitions or forms should cling to them in faintest degree, and Bradford wrote of the first marriage which took place in thePlymouth Colony: "The first marriage in this place, which, according to the laudable custom of the Low Countries, in whichthey had lived, was thought most requisite to be performed by themagistrate, as being a civil thing, . . . And nowhere found in theGospel to be laid on the ministers as a part of their office. "

Winthrop, three of whose marriages had been in the parishchurch of his English home, shared the same feeling, and whenpreparations were made for "a great marriage to be solemnized atBoston, " wrote: "The bridegroom being of Hingham, Mr. Hubbard'schurch, he was procured to preach, and came to Boston to that end. But the magistrates hearing of it, sent to him to forbear. We werenot willing to bring in the English custom of ministers performingthe solemnity of marriage, which sermons at such times mightinduce; but if any minister were present, and would bestow a wordof exhortation, &c. , it was permitted. "

Fortunately for Dorothy and Sarah Bradstreet, their father was amagistrate, and his clear and gentle eyes the only ones they wereobliged to face. Andover couples prefered him to any other andwith reason, for while following the appointed method strictly, "giving the covenant unto the parties and also making the prayersproper for the occasion, " he had no frowns for innocent enjoyment, and may even have allowed the dancing which was afterwardforbidden. 

In the beginning, as the largest in the township, his house hadprobably served as stopping-place for all travellers, where theywere entertained merely as a matter of courtesy, though an"inholder" or "taverner" had been appointed and liscenced forAndover in 1648. Only an honored citizen could hold this office, and marriages were often celebrated in their houses, whichnaturally were enlarged at last to meet all necessities. But thestrong liquors of the inn often circulated too freely, andquarrels and the stocks were at times the end of a day which ithad been planned should hold all the merriment the Puritan temperwould allow. Such misfortunes waited only on the humbler membersof the community, who appear to have been sufficiently quarrelsomeand excitable to furnish more occupiers of both pillory andstocks, than the religious character of the settlement would seemto admit, and who came to blows on the least provocation, usingtheir fists with genuine English ardor, and submitting topunishment with composure, if only the adversary showed bruisesenough for compensation. Wine and beer flowed freely at both themarriages, as they did at every entertainment, but GovernorBradstreet, while having due liking for all good cheer, waspersonally so abstinent that none would be likely in his presenceto forget proper bounds. Ministers and laymen alike drank anamount impossible to these later days, and that if taken now wouldset them down as hopeless reprobates; but custom sanctioned it, though many had already found that the different climate renderedsuch indulgence much more hazardous than the less exhilarating oneof England. 

As the family lessened, the mother seems to have clung even moreclosely to those that remained, and to have lost herself in workfor and with them. Whatever may have been written at this time, appears to have been destroyed, nothing remaining but the poem"Contemplations, " which is more truly poetry than any of its morelabored predecessors, its descriptive passages holding much of thecharm of the lovely landscape through which she moved to theriver, flowing still through the Andover meadows. 

 CONTEMPLATIONS. 

 Some time now past in the Autumnal Tide When Phoebus wanted but one hour to bed The trees all richly clad, yet void of pride Where gilded o're by his rich golden head. Their leaves and fruits seemed painted but was true Of green, of red, of yellow mixed hew, Rapt were my sences at this delectable view. 

 I wist not what to wish, yet sure thought I, If so much excellence abide below; How excellent is he that dwells on high? Whose power and beauty by his works we know. Sure he is goodness, wisdome, glory, light, That hath this under world so richly dight; More Heaven than Earth was here, no winter & no night. 

 Then on a stately oak I cast mine Eye, Whose ruffling top the Clouds seemed to aspire; How long since thou wast in thine Infancy? Thy strength and stature, more thy years admire. Hath hundred winters past since thou wast born? Or thousand since thou brakest thy shell of horn, If so, all these as nought, Eternity doth scorn. 

 Then higher on the glistening Sun I gazed, Whose beams was shaded by the leavie Tree, The more I looked, the more I grew amazed, And softly said, what glory's like to thee? Soul of this world, this Universes Eye Had I not, better known, (alas) the same had I. 

 Thou as a bridegroom from thy Chamber rushes And as a strong man, joyes to run a race, The morn doth usher thee with smiles and blushes The Earth reflects her glances in thy face. Birds, insects, Animals with Vegetive, Thy heart from death and dulness doth revive: And in the darksome womb of fruitful nature dive. 

 Thy swift Annual and diurnal Course, Thy daily streight and yearly oblique path. Thy pleasing fervor and thy scorching force, All mortals here the feeling knowledg hath. Thy presence makes it day thy absence night, Quaternal Seasons caused by thy might; Hail Creature full of sweetness, beauty and delight. 

 Art them so full of glory, that no Eye Hath strength, thy shining Rayes once to behold? And is thy splendid throne erect so high? As to approach it can no earthly mould. How full of glory then must thy Creator be? Who gave this bright light luster unto thee, Admir'd, ador'd for ever, be that Majesty. 

 Silent alone, where none or saw or heard, In pathless paths I lead my wandering feet; My humble eyes to lofty Skyes I rear'd, To sing some song my mazed Muse thought meet. My great Creator I would magnifie, That nature had thus decked liberally; But Ah, and Ah, again my imbecility. 

The reader who may be disposed to echo this last line must bear inmind always, that stilted as much of this may seem, it was in theday in which it appeared a more purely natural voice than had beenheard at all, and as the poem proceeds it gains both in force andbeauty. As usual she reverts to the past for illustrations andfalls into a meditation aroused by the sights and sounds abouther. The path has led to the meadows not far from the river, where--

 I heard the merry grasshopper then sing, The black-clad Cricket, bear a second part, They kept one tune and plaid on the same string, Seeming to glory in their little Art. Shall Creatures abject, thus their voices raise? And in their kind resound their makers praise, Whilst I as mute, can warble forth no higher layes. 

 * * * * *

 When present times look back to Ages past, And men in being fancy those are dead, It makes things gone perpetually to last, And calls back moneths and years that long since fled. It makes a man more aged in conceit, Then was Methuselah, or's grandsire great; While of their persons & their acts his mind doth treat. 

 * * * * *

 Sometimes in Eden fair, he seems to be, Sees glorious Adam there made Lord of all, Fancyes the Apple, dangle on the Tree, That turn'd his Sovereign to a naked thral, Who like a miscreant's driven from that place, To get his bread with pain and sweat of face A penalty impos'd on his backsliding Race. 

 * * * * *

 Here sits our Grandame in retired place, And in her lap, her bloody Cain new-born, The weeping Imp oft looks her in the face, Bewails his unknown hap and fate forlorn; His Mother sighs to think of Paradise, And how she lost her bliss to be more wise, Beleiving him that was, and is Father of lyes. 

 * * * * *

 Here Cain and Abel came to sacrifice, Fruits of the Earth and Fallings each do bring, On Abels gift the fire descends from Skies, But no such sign on false Cain's offering; With sullen, hateful looks he goes his wayes; Hath thousand thoughts to end his brothers dayes, Upon whose blood his future good he hopes to raise. 

 * * * * *

 There Abel keeps his sheep no ill he thinks, His brother comes, then acts his fratracide The Virgin Earth, of blood her first draught drinks, But since that time she often hath been clay'd; The wretch with gastly face and dreadful mind, Thinks each he sees will serve him in his kind, Though none on Earth but kindred near, then could he find. 

 * * * * *

 Who fancyes not his looks now at the Barr, His face like death, his heart with horror fraught, Nor Male-factor ever felt like warr, When deep dispair with wish of life hath fought, Branded with guilt, and crusht with treble woes, A vagabond to Land of Nod he goes; A City builds, that wals might him secure from foes. 

 * * * * *

 Who thinks not oft upon the Father's ages. Their long descent, how nephews sons they saw, The starry observations of those Sages, And how their precepts to their sons were law, How Adam sigh'd to see his Progeny, Cloath'd all in his black sinful Livery, Who neither guilt, nor yet the punishment could fly. 

 * * * * *

 Our Life compare we with their length of dayes Who to the tenth of theirs doth now arrive? And though thus short, we shorten many wayes, Living so little while we are alive; In eating, drinking, sleeping, vain delight, So unawares comes on perpetual night, And puts all pleasures vain unto eternal flight. 

 * * * * *

 When I behold the heavens as in their prime, And then the earth, (though old) stil clad in green The stones and trees insensible of time, Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen; If winter come and greeness then do fade, A Spring returns, and they more youthfull made; But man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid. 

 * * * * *

 By birth more noble then those creatures all, Yet seems by nature and by custome curs'd, No sooner born, but grief and care makes fall, That state obliterate he had at first: Nor youth, nor strength, nor wisdom spring again, Nor habitations long their names retain, But in oblivion to the final day remain. 

 * * * * *

 Shall I then praise the heavens, the trees, the earth, Because their beauty and their strength last longer Shall I wish there, or never to have had birth, Because they're bigger & their bodyes stronger? Nay, they shall darken, perish, fade and dye, And when unmade, so ever shall they lye, But man was made for endless immortality. 

Here at last she is released from the didactic. She can look atthe sun without feeling it necessary to particularize herknowledge of its--

 ". . . Swift Annual and diurnal Course, Thy daily streight and yearly oblique path. "

Imagination has been weighted by the innumerable details, more andmore essential to the Puritan mind, but now she draws one longfree breath, and rises far beyond the petty limit of her usualthought, the italicised lines in what follows holding a music onemay seek for in vain in any other verse of the period:

 Under the cooling shadow of a stately Elm, Close sate I by a goodly Rivers side, Where gliding streams the Rocks did overwhelm; A lonely place with pleasures dignifi'd, I once that lov'd the shady woods so well, Now thought the rivers did the trees excel, And if the sun would ever shine there would I dwell. 

 * * * * *

 While on the stealing stream I fixt mine eye, Which to the longed-for Ocean held its course, I markt not crooks, nor rubs that there did lye Could hinder ought but still augment its force, _O happy Flood, quoth I, that holds thy race Till thou arrive at thy beloved place, Nor is it rocks or shoals that can obstruct thy pace_. 

 * * * * *

 Nor is't enough that thou alone may'st slide, But hundred brooks in thy cleer waves do meet, So hand in hand along with thee they glide To Thetis house, where all embrace and greet: Thou Emblem true of what I count the best, O could I lead my Rivolets to rest, So may we press to that vast mansion, ever blest. 

 * * * * *

 Ye fish which in this liquid Region 'bide, That for each season have your habitation, Now salt, now fresh where you think best to glide, To unknown coasts to give a visitation, In Lakes and ponds you leave your numerous fry, So nature taught, and yet you know not why, You watry folk that know not your felicity. 

 * * * * *

 Look how the wantons frisk to taste the air, Then to the colder bottome streight they dive, Eftsoon to Neptun's glassie Hall repair, To see what trade they great ones there do drive Who forrage ore the spacious, sea-green field, And take the trembling prey before it yield, Whose armour is their scales, their spreading fins their shield. 

 * * * * *

 While musing thus with contemplation fed, And thousand fancies buzzing in my brain, The sweet tongu'd Philomel percht ore my head, And chanted forth a most melodious strain, Which rapt me so with wonder and delight, I judg'd my hearing better then my sight, And wisht me wings with her awhile to take my flight. 

 * * * * *

 O merry Bird (said I) that fears no snares, That neither toyles nor hoards up in thy barn, Feels no sad thoughts, no cruciating cares To gain more good, or shun what might thee harm. Thy cloaths ne're wear, thy meat is everywhere, Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water deer, Reminds not what is past nor whats to come dost fear. 

 * * * * *

 _The dawning morn with songs thou dost prevent, Sets hundred notes unto thy feathered crew, So each one tunes his pretty instrument, And warbling out the old, begin anew, And thus they pass their youth in summer season, Then follow thee into a better Region, Where winter's never felt in that sweet airy legion_. 

 * * * * *

 Up to this point natural delight in the sights and sounds of a summer's day has had its way, and undoubtedly struck her as far too much enjoyment for any sinful worm of the dust. She proceeds, therefore, to chasten her too exuberant muse, presenting for that sorely-tried damsel's inspection, the portrait of man, as Calvin had taught her to view him. 

 * * * * *

 Man at the best a creature frail and vain, In knowledg ignorant, in strength but weak, Subject to sorrows, losses, sickness, pain, Each storm his state, his mind, his body break, From some of these he never finds cessation But day or night, within, without, vexation, Troubles from foes, from friends, from dearest nears't Relation. 

 * * * * *

 And yet this sinfull creature, frail and vain, This lump of wretchedness, of sin and sorrow, This weather-beaten vessel wrackt with pain, Joyes not in hope of an eternal morrow; Nor all his losses crosses and vexations In weight and frequency and long duration, Can make him deeply groan for that divine Translation. 

 * * * * *

 The Mariner that on smooth waves doth glide, Sings merrily and steers his Barque with ease, As if he had command of wind and tide, And now become great Master of the seas; But suddenly a storm spoiles all the sport, And makes him long for a more quiet port, Which 'gainst all adverse winds may serve for fort. 

 * * * * *

 So he that saileth in this world of pleasure, Feeding on sweets, that never bit of th' sowre, That's full of friends, of honour and of treasure, Fond fool, he takes this earth even for heav'n's bower. But sad affliction comes & makes him see, Here's neither honour, wealth nor safety, Only above is found all with security. 

 * * * * *

 O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things, That draws oblivion's curtain over Kings, Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not, Their names without a Record are forgot, Their parts, their ports, their pomp's all laid in th' dust, Nor wit nor gold, nor buildings scape time's rust; But he whose name is grav'd in the white stone Shall last and shine when all of these are gone. 

With this poem, Anne Bradstreet seems to have bidden a finalfarewell to any attempt at sustained composition. A sense ofdisgust at the poor result of long thought and labor appears tohave filled her, and this mood found expression in a deprecatinglittle poem in which humor struggles with this oppressive sense ofdeficiency and incompleteness, the inclination on the whole, however, as with most authors, being toward a lenient judgment ofher own inadequate accomplishment. 

 THE AUTHOR TO HER BOOK. 

 Thou ill-form'd offspring of my feeble brain, Who after birth didst by my side remain, Till snatcht from thence by friends, less wise then true Who thee abroad, expos'd to publick view, Made thee in raggs, halting to th' press to trudg, Where errors were not lessened (all may judg) At thy return my blushing was not small, My rambling brat (in print, ) should mother call, I cast thee by as one unfit for light, Thy Visage was so irksome in my sight; Yet being mine own, at length affection would Thy blemishes amend, if so I could: I wash'd thy face, but more defects I saw, And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw. I stretcht thy joynts to make thee even feet, Yet still thou run'st more hobling then is meet; In better dress to trim thee was my mind, But nought save home-spun Cloth, i' th' house I find In this array, mong'st Vulgars mayst thou roam In Critick's hands, beware thou dost not come; And take thy way where yet thou art not known, If for thy Father askt, say, thou hadst none; And for thy Mother, she alas is poor. Which caused her thus to turn thee out of door. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE LEGACY. 

Though it was only as a poet that Anne Bradstreet was known to herown time, her real strength was in prose, and the "Meditations, Divine and Morall, " written at the request of her second son, theRev. Simon Bradstreet, to whom she dedicated them, March 20, 1664, show that life had taught her much, and in the ripened thought andshrewd observation of men and manners are the best testimony toher real ability. For the reader of to-day they are of incomparablymore interest than anything to be found in the poems. Thereis often the most condensed and telling expression; a swiftturn that shows what power of description lay under all thefantastic turns of the style Du Bartas had created for her. Thathe underrated them was natural. The poems had brought her honor inthe old home and the new. The meditations involved no anxiouslaboring after a rhyme, no straining a metaphor till it cracked. They were natural thought naturally expressed and thereforeworthless for any literary purpose, and as she wrote, the wail ofthe Preacher repeated itself, and she smiled faintly as the wordsgrew under her pen: "There is no new thing under the sun, there isnothing that can be sayd or done, but either that or somethinglike it hath been done and sayd before. "

Many of the paragraphs written in pain and weakness show howkeenly she had watched the course of events, and what power ofcharacterization she had to use, three of them especially holdingthe quiet sarcasm in which she occasionally indulged, thoughalways with a tacit apology for the possession of such a quality. "Dimne eyes are the concomitants of old age; and short-sightednesin those that are eyes of a Republique, foretells a declineingstate. "

"Authority without wisdome, is like a heavy axe without an edge, fitter to bruise than polish. "

"Ambitious men are like hops that never rest climbing so long asthey have anything to stay upon; but take away their props, andthey are of all, the most dejected. "

The perpetual dissensions, religious and political, whichthreatened at times the absolute destruction of the Colony, wereall familiar to her, and she draws upon them for illustrations ofmany points, others being afforded by her own experience with theeight children to whom she proved so devoted and tender a mother. Like other mothers, before and since, their differences intemperament and conduct, seem to have been a perpetual surprise, but that she had tact enough to meet each on his or her ownground, or gently draw them toward hers, seems evident at everypoint. That they loved her tenderly is equally evident, the diaryof her second son mentioning her always as "my dear and honoredmother, " and all of them, though separated by early marriages formost of them, returning as often as practicable to the old roof, under which Thanksgiving Day had taken on the character it hasheld from that clay to this. The small blank-book which held these"Meditations" was copied carefully by Simon Bradstreet, and thereis little doubt that each of the children did the same, considering it as much theirs as the brother's for whom it wasoriginally intended. Whatever Anne Bradstreet did, she had herchildren always in view, and still another blank-book partiallyfilled with religious reflections, and found among her papersafter death, was dedicated, "To my dear children. " The fatherprobably kept the originals, but her words were too highly valued, not to have been eagerly desired by all. A special word to her sonopens the series of "Meditations. "

FOR MY DEARE SONNE SIMON BRADSTREET. 

Parents perpetuate their lines in their posterity, and theirmaners in their imitation. Children do naturally rather follow thefailings than the virtues of their predecessors, but I ampersuaded better things of you. You once desired me to leavesomething for you in writing that you might look upon when youshould see me no more. I could think of nothing more fit for you, nor of more ease to my selfe, than these short meditationsfollowing. Such as they are I bequeath to you: small legacys areaccepted by true friends, much more by dutiful children. I haveavoyded incroaching upon others conceptions, because I would leaveyou nothing but myne owne, though in value they fall short of allin this kinde, yet I presume they will be better priz'd by you forthe Author's sake. The Lord blesse you with grace heer, and crownyou with glory heerafter, that I may meet you with rejoyceing atthat great day of appearing, which is the continuall prayer of

Your affectionate mother, A. B. 

March 20, 1664. 

MEDITATIONS, DIVINE AND MORALL. 

I. 

There is no object that we see; no action that we doe; no goodthat we injoy; no evill that we feele or feare, but we may makesome spiritu(a)ll, advantage of all: and he that makes suchimprovement is wise as well as pious. 

II. 

Many can speak well, but few can do well. We are better Scholarsin the Theory then the practique part, but he is a true Christianthat is a proficient in both. 

III. 

Youth is the time of getting, middle age of improving, and old ageof spending; a negligent youth is usually attended by an ignorantmiddle age, and both by an empty old age. He that hath nothing tofeed on but vanity and lyes must needs lye down in the Bed ofSorrow. 

IV. 

A ship that beares much saile, and little or no ballast, is easilyoverset; and that man, whose head hath great abilities, and hisheart little or no grace, is in danger of foundering. 

V. 

It is reported of the peakcock that, prideing himself in his gayfeathers, he ruffles them up; but, spying his black feet, he soonlets fall his plumes, so he that glorys in his gifts and adorningsshould look upon his Corruptions, and that will damp his highthoughts. 

VI. 

The finest bread hath the least bran; the purest hony, the leastwax; and the sincerest Christian, the least self love. 

VII. 

The hireling that labors all the day, comforts himself that whennight comes he shall both take his rest and receive his reward;the painfull Christian that hath wrought hard in God's vineyard, and hath born the heat and drought of the day, when he perceiveshis sun apace to decline, and the shadows of his evening to bestretched out, lifts up his head with joy, knowing his refreshingis at hand. 

VIII. 

Downny beds make drosey persons, but hard lodging keeps the eyesopen. A prosperous state makes a secure Christian, but adversitymakes him Consider. 

IX. 

Sweet words are like hony, a little may refresh, but too muchgluts the stomach. 

X. 

Diverse children have their different natures; some are like fleshwhich nothing but salt will keep from putrefaction; some againlike tender fruits that are best preserved with sugar: thoseparents are wise that can fit their nurture according to theirNature. 

XI. 

That town which thousands of enemys without hath not been able totake, hath been delivered up by one traytor within; and that man, which all the temptations of Sathan without could not hurt, hathbeen foild by one lust within. 

XII. 

Authority without wisdome is like a heavy axe without an edge, fitter to bruise than polish. 

XIII. 

The reason why Christians are so both to exchange this world for abetter, is because they have more sence than faith: they se whatthey injoy, they do but hope for that which is to come. 

XIV. 

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if wedid not sometimes tast of adversity, prosperity would not be sowelcome. 

XV. 

A low man can goe upright under that door wher a taller is glad tostoop; so a man of weak faith, and mean abilities may undergo acrosse more patiently than he that excells him, both in gifts andgraces. 

XVI. 

That house which is not often swept, makes the cleanly inhabitantsoone loath it, and that heart which is not continually purifieingitself, is no fit temple for the spirit of God to dwell in. 

XVII. 

Few men are so humble as not to be proud of their abilitys; andnothing will abase them more than this--What hast thou, but whatthou hast received? Come, give an account of thy stewardship. 

XVIII. 

He that will undertake to climb up a steep mountain with a greatburden on his back, will finde it a wearysome, if not animpossible task; so he that thinks to mount to heaven clog'd withthe Cares and riches of this Life, 'tis no wonder if he faint bythe way. 

XIX. 

Corne, till it has passed through the Mill and been ground topowder, is not fit for bread. God so deales with his servants: hegrindes them with grief and pain till they turn to dust, and thenare they fit manchet for his Mansion. 

XX

God hath sutable comforts and supports for his children accordingto their severall conditions if he will make his face to shineupon them: he then makes them lye down in green pastures, andleads them beside the still waters: if they stick in deepe mireand clay, and all his waves and billows goe over their heads, Hethen leads them to the Rock which is higher than they. 

XXI. 

He that walks among briars and thorns will be very carefull wherehe sets his foot. And he that passes through the wilderness ofthis world, had need ponder all his steps. 

XXII. 

Want of prudence, as well as piety, hath brought men into greatinconveniencys; but he that is well stored with both, seldom is soinsnared. 

XXIII. 

The skillfull fisher hath his severall baits for severall fish, but there is a hooke under all; Satan, that great Angler, hath hissundry bait for sundry tempers of men, which they all catchgredily at, but few perceives the hook till it be too late. 

XXIV. 

There is no new thing under the sun, there is nothing that can besayd or done, but either that or something like it hath been bothdone and sayd before. 

XXV. An akeing head requires a soft pillow; and a drooping heart astrong support. 

XXVI. 

A sore finger may disquiet the whole body, but an ulcer withindestroys it: so an enemy without may disturb a Commonwealth, butdissentions within overthrow it. 

XXVII. 

It is a pleasant thing to behold the light, but sore eyes are notable to look upon it; the pure in heart shall see God, but thedefiled in conscience shall rather choose to be buried under rocksand mountains then to behold the presence of the Lamb. 

XXVIII. 

Wisedome with an inheritance is good, but wisedome without aninheritance is better then an inheritance without wisedome. 

XXIX. 

Lightening doth generally preceed thunder, and stormes, raine; andstroaks do not often fall till after threat'ning. 

XXX. 

Yellow leaves argue the want of Sap, and gray haires want ofmoisture; so dry and saplesse performances are symptoms of littlespirituall vigor. 

XXXI. 

Iron till it be thoroughly heat is uncapable to be wrought; so Godsees good to cast some men into the furnace of affliction, andthen beats them on his anvile into what frame he pleases. 

XXXII. 

Ambitious men are like hops that never rest climbing soe long asthey have anything to stay upon; but take away their props andthey are, of all, the most dejected. 

XXXIII. 

Much Labour wearys the body, and many thoughts oppresse the minde:man aimes at profit by the one, and content in the other; butoften misses of both, and findes nothing but vanity and vexationof spirit. 

XXXIV. 

Dimne eyes are the concomitants of old age; and short-sightednes, in those that are eyes of a Republique, foretells a declineingState. 

XXXV. 

We read in Scripture of three sorts of Arrows--the arrow of anenemy, the arrow of pestilence, and the arrow of a slanderoustongue; the two first kill the body, the last the good name; thetwo former leave a man when he is once dead, but the last mangleshim in his grave. 

XXXVI. 

Sore labourers have hard hands, and old sinners have brawnieconsciences. 

XXXVII. 

Wickednes comes to its height by degrees. He that dares say of alesse sin, is it not a little one? will ere long say of a greater, Tush, God regards it not!

XXXVIII. 

Some Children are hardly weaned, although the breast be rub'd withwormwood or mustard, they will either wipe it off, or else suckdown sweet and bitter together; so is it with some Christians, letGod embitter all the sweets of this life, that so they might feedupon more substantiall food, yet they are so childishly sottishthat they are still huging and sucking these empty brests, thatGod is forced to hedg up their way with thornes, or lay afflictionon their loynes, that so they might shake hands with the worldbefore it bid them farewell

XXXIX. 

A Prudent mother will not clothe her little childe with a long andcumbersome garment; she easily forsees what events it is like toproduce, at the best but falls and bruises, or perhaps somewhatworse, much more will the alwise God proportion his dispensationsaccording to the Stature and Strength of the person he bestowsthem on. Larg indowments of honor, wealth, or a helthfull bodywould quite overthrow some weak Christian, therefore God cutstheir garments short, to keep them in such trim that they mightrun the wayes of his Commandment. 

XL. 

The spring is a lively emblem of the resurrection. After a longwinter we se the leavlesse trees and dry stocks (at the approachof the sun) to resume their former vigor and beauty in a moreample manner then what they lost in the Autumn; so shall it beat that great day after a long vacation, when the Sun ofrighteousness shall appear, those dry bones shall arise in farmore glory then that which they lost at their creation, and inthis transcends the spring, that their leafe shall never faile, nor their sap decline. 

XLI. 

A Wise father will not lay a burden on a child of seven yearesold, which he knows is enough for one of twice his strength, muchless will our heavenly father (who knows our mould) lay suchafflictions upon his weak children as would crush them to thedust, but according to the strength he will proportion the load, as God hath his little children so he hath his strong men, such asare come to a full stature in Christ; and many times he imposeswaighty burdens on their shoulders, and yet they go upright underthem, but it matters not whether the load be more or less if Godafford his help. 

XLII. 

I have seen an end of all perfection (sayd the royall prophet);but he never sayd, I have seen an end of all sinning: what he didsay, may be easily sayd by many; but what he did not say, cannottruly be uttered by any. 

XLIII. 

Fire hath its force abated by water, not by wind; and anger mustbe alayed by cold words, and not by blustering threats. 

XLIV. 

A sharp appetite and a thorough concoction, is a signe of anhealthfull body; so a quick reception, and a deliberatecogitation, argues a sound mind. 

XLV. 

We often se stones hang with drops, not from any innate moisture, but from a thick ayer about them; so may we sometime se marble-hearted sinners seem full of contrition; but it is not from anydew of grace within, but from some black Clouds that impends them, which produces these sweating effects. 

XLVI. 

The words of the wise, sath Solomon, are as nailes and as goadsboth used for contrary ends--the one holds fast, the other putsforward; such should be the precepts of the wise masters ofassemblys to their hearers, not only to bid them hold fast theform of sound Doctrin, but also, so to run that they might obtain. 

XLVII. 

A shadow in the parching sun, and a shelter in the blusteringstorme, are of all seasons the most welcome; so a faithfull friendin time of adversity, is of all other most comfortable. 

XLVIII. 

There is nothing admits of more admiration, then God's variousdispensation of his gifts among the sons of men, betwixt whom hehath put so vast a disproportion that they scarcely seem made ofthe same lump, or sprung out of the loynes of one Adam; some setin the highest dignity that mortality is capable of; and someagain so base, that they are viler then the earth; some so wiseand learned, that they seem like Angells among men; and some againso ignorant and Sotish, that they are more like beasts then men:some pious saints; some incarnate Devils; some exceedingbeautyfull; and some extreamly deformed; some so strong andhealthfull that their bones are full of marrow; and their breastsof milk; and some again so weak and feeble, that, while they live, they are accounted among the dead--and no other reason can begiven of all this, but so it pleased him, whose will is theperfect rule of righteousness. 

XLIX. 

The treasures of this world may well be compared to huskes, forthey have no kernell in them, and they that feed upon them, maysoon stuffe their throats, but cannot fill their bellys; they maybe choaked by them, but cannot be satisfied with them. 

L. 

Sometimes the sun is only shadowed by a cloud that wee cannot sehis luster, although we may walk by his light, but when he is setwe are in darkness till he arise again; so God doth sometime vailehis face but for a moment, that we cannot behold the light of hisCountenance as at some other time, yet he affords so much light asmay direct our way, that we may go forward to the Citty ofhabitation, but when he seems to set and be quite gone out ofsight, then must we needs walk in darkness and se no light, yetthen must we trust in the Lord, and stay upon our God, and whenthe morning (which is the appointed time) is come, the Sun ofrighteousness will arise with healing in his wings. 

LI. 

The eyes and the eares are the inlets or doores of the soule, through which innumerable objects enter, yet is not that spaciousroome filled, neither doth it ever say it is enough, but like thedaughters of the horsleach, crys, give, give! and which is moststrang, the more it receives, the more empty it finds itself, andsees an impossibility, ever to be filled, but by Him in whom allfullness dwells. 

LII. 

Had not the wisest of men taught us this lesson, that all isvanity and vexation of spirit, yet our owne experience would soonhave speld it out; for what do we obtain of all these things, butit is with labour and vexation? When we injoy them it is withvanity and vexation; and, if we loose them, then they are lessethen vanity and more then vexation. : so that we have good causeoften to repeat that sentence, vanity of vanityes, vanity ofvanityes, all is vanity. 

LIII. 

He that is to saile into a farre country, although the ship, cabbin and provision, be all convenient and comfortable for him, yet he hath no desire to make that his place of residence, butlongs to put in at that port where his bussines lyes; a Christianis sailing through this world unto his heavenly country, and heerehe hath many conveniences and comforts; but he must beware ofdesire(ing) to make this the place of his abode, lest he meet withsuch tossings that may cause him to long for shore before he seesland. We must, therefore, be beer as strangers and pilgrims, thatwe may plainly declare that we seek a citty above, and wait allthe dayes of our appointed time till our chang shall come. 

LIV. 

He that never felt what it was to be sick or wounded, doth notmuch care for the company of the physitian or chirurgian; but ifhe perceive a malady that threatens him with death, he will gladlyentertaine him, whom he slighted before: so he that never felt thesicknes of sin, nor the wounds of a guilty conscience, cares nothow far he keeps from him that hath skill to cure it; but when hefindes his diseases to disrest him, and that he must needs perishif he have no remedy, will unfeignedly bid him welcome that bringsa plaister for his sore, or a cordiall for his fainting. 

LV. 

We read of ten lepers that were cleansed, but of one that returnedthanks: we are more ready to receive mercys than we are toacknowledg them: men can use great importunity when they are indistresses, and show great ingratitude after their successes; buthe that ordereth his conversation aright, will glorifie him thatheard him in the day of his trouble. 

LVI. 

The remembrances of former deliverances is a great support inpresent distresses: he that delivered me, sath David, from the pawof the Lion and the paw of the Beare, will deliver mee from thisuncircumcised Philistin; and he that hath delivered mee, saithPaul, will deliver mee: God is the same yesterday, to-day, andforever; we are the same that stand in need of him, to-day as wellas yesterday, and so shall forever. 

LVII. 

Great receipts call for great returnes; the more that any man isintrusted withall, the larger his accounts stands upon God'sscore: it therefore behoves every man so to improve his talents, that when his great Master shall call him to reckoning he mayreceive his owne with advantage. 

LVIII. 

Sin and shame ever goe together. He that would be freed from thelast, must be sure to shun the company of the first. 

LIX. 

God doth many times both reward and punish for the same action: aswe see in Jehu, he is rewarded with a kingdome to the fourthgeneration, for takeing veangence on the house of Ahab; and yet alittle while (saith God), and I will avenge the blood of Jezevelupon the house of Jehu: he was rewarded for the matter, and yetpunished for the manner, which should warn him, that doth anyspeciall service for God, to fixe his eye on the command, and noton his own ends, lest he meet with Jehu's reward, which will endin punishment. 

LX. 

He that would be content with a mean condition, must not cast hiseye upon one that is in a far better estate than himself, but lethim look upon him that is lower than he is, and, if he see thatsuch a one beares poverty comfortably, it will help to quiet him;but if that will not do, let him look on his owne unworthynes, andthat will make him say with Jacob, I am lesse then the least ofthy mercys. 

LXI. 

Corne is produced with much labour, (as the husbandman wellknowes), and some land askes much more paines then some other dothto be brought into tilth, yet all must be ploughed and harrowed;some children (like sowre land) are of so tough and morose adispo(si)tion, that the plough of correction must make longfurrows on their back, and the Harrow of discipline goe often overthem, before they bee fit soile to sow the seed of morality, muchlesse of grace in them. But when by prudent nurture they arebrought into a fit capacity, let the seed of good instruction andexhortation be sown in the spring of their youth, and a plentiful!crop may be expected in the harvest of their yeares. 

LXII. 

As man is called the little world, so his heart may be cal'd thelittle Commonwealth: his more fixed and resolved thoughts are liketo inhabitants, his slight and flitting thoughts are likepassengers that travell to and fro continually; here is also thegreat Court of justice erected, which is always kept by consciencewho is both accuser, excuser, witness, and Judge, whom no bribescan pervert, nor flattery cause to favour, but as he finds theevidence, so he absolves or condemnes: yea, so Absolute is thisCourt of Judicature, that there is no appeale from it--no, not tothe Court of heaven itself--for if our conscience condemn us, he, also, who is greater than our conscience, will do it much more;but he that would have boldness to go to the throne of grace to beaccepted there, must be sure to carry a certificate from the Courtof conscience, that he stands right there. 

LXIII. 

He that would keep a pure heart, and lead a blameless life, must set himself alway in the awefull presence of God, theconsideration of his all-seeing eye will be a bridle to restrainfrom evill, and a spur to quicken on to good duties: we certainlydream of some remotenes betwixt God and us, or else we should notso often faile in our whole Course of life as we doe; but he thatwith David sets the Lord alway in his sight, will not sinneagainst him. 

LXIV. 

We see in orchards some trees so fruitful, that the waight oftheir Burden is the breaking of their limbs; some again are butmeanly loaden; and some among them are dry stocks: so it is in thechurch, which is God's orchard, there are some eminent Christiansthat are soe frequent in good dutys, that many times the waightthereof impares both their bodys and estates; and there are some(and they sincere ones too) who have not attained to thatfruitfullness, altho they aime at perfection: And again there areothers that have nothing to commend them but only a gayprofession, and these are but leavie Christians, which are in asmuch danger of being cut down as the dry stock, for both cumberthe ground. 

LXV. 

We see in the firmament there is but one Sun among a multitudeof starres, and those starres also to differ much one from theother in regard of bignes and brightnes, yet all receive theirlight from that one Sun: so is it in the church both militantand triumphant, there is but one Christ, who is the Sun ofrighteousnes, in the midst of an innumerable company of Saints andAngels; those Saints have their degrees even in this life, Someare Stars of the first magnitude, and some of a lesse degree; andothers (and they indeed the most in number), but small andobscure, yet all receive their luster (be it more or less) fromthat glorious Sun that inlightenes all in all; and, if some ofthem shine so bright while they move on earth, how transcendentlysplendid shall they be when they are fixt in their heavenlyspheres!

LXVI. 

Men that have walked very extravagantly, and at last bethinkthemselves of turning to God, the first thing which they eye, ishow to reform their ways rather than to beg forgivenes for theirsinnes; nature lookes more at a Compensation than at a pardon; buthe that will not come for mercy without mony and without price, but bring his filthy raggs to barter for it, shall meet withmiserable disapointment, going away empty, beareing the reproachof his pride and folly. 

LXVII. 

All the works and doings of God are wonderfull, but none moreawfull than his great worke of election and Reprobation; when weconsider how many good parents have had bad children, and againehow many bad parents have had pious children, it should make usadore the Soverainty of God who will not be tyed to time norplace, nor yet to persons, but takes and chuses when and where andwhom he pleases: it should alsoe teach the children of godlyparents to walk with feare and trembling, lest they, throughunbeleif, fall short of a promise: it may also be a support tosuch as have or had wicked parents, that, if they abide not inunbeleif, God is able to grasse them in: the upshot of all shouldmake us, with the Apostle, to admire the justice and mercy of God, and say, how unsearchable are his wayes, and his footsteps pastfinding out. 

LXVIII. 

The gifts that God bestows on the sons of men, are not onlyabused, but most Commonly imployed for a Clean Contrary end, thenthat which might be so many steps to draw men to God inconsideration of his bounty towards them, but have driven them thefurther from him, that they are ready to say, we are lords, wewill come no more at thee. If outward blessings be not as wings tohelp us mount upwards, they will Certainly prove Clogs and waightsthat will pull us lower downward. 

LXIX. 

All the Comforts of this life may be compared to the gourd ofJonah, that notwithstanding we take great delight for a season inthem, and find their Shadow very comfortable, yet their is someworm or other of discontent, of feare, or greife that lyes atroot, which in great part withers the pleasure which else weshould take in them; and well it is that we perceive a decay intheir greennes, for were earthly comforts permanent, who wouldlook for heavenly?

LXX. 

All men are truly sayd to be tenants at will, and it may as trulybe sayd, that all have a lease of their lives--some longer, someshorter--as it pleases our great landlord to let. All have theirbounds set, over which they cannot passe, and till the expirationof that time, no dangers, no sicknes, no paines nor troubles, shall put a period to our dayes; the certainty that that time willcome, together with the uncertainty how, where, and when, shouldmake us so to number our days as to apply our hearts to wisedome, that when wee are put out of these houses of clay, we may be sureof an everlasting habitation that fades not away. 

LXXI. 

All weak and diseased bodys have hourly mementos of theirmortality. But the soundest of men have likewise their nightlymonitor by the embleam of death, which is their sleep (for so isdeath often called), and not only their death, but their grave islively represented before their eyes, by beholding their bed; themorning may mind them of the resurrection; and the sun approaching, of the appearing of the sun of righteousnes, at whose comeingthey shall all rise out of their beds, the long night shallfly away, and the day of eternity shall never end: seeing thesethings must be, what manner of persons ought we to be, in allgood conversation?

LXXII. 

As the brands of a fire, if once feverered, will of themselves goeout, altho you use no other meanes to extinguish them, so distanceof place, together with length of time (if there be no intercourse)will cool the affectiones of intimate friends, though tjere shouldbe no displeasance between them. 

LXXIII. 

A Good name is as a precious oyntment, and it is a great favor tohave a good repute among good men; yet it is not that whichCommends us to God, for by his ballance we must be weighed, and byhis Judgment we must be tryed, and, as he passes the sentence, Soshall we stand. 

LXXIV. 

Well doth the Apostle call riches deceitfull riches, and they maytruely be compared to deceitfull friends who speake faire, andpromise much, but perform nothing, and so leave those in the lurchthat most relyed on them: so is it with the wealth, honours, andpleasures of this world, which miserably delude men, and make themput great confidence in them, but when death threatens, anddistresse lays hold upon them, they prove like the reeds of Egiptthat peirce instead of supporting, like empty wells in the time ofdrought, that those that go to finde water in them, return withtheir empty pitchers ashamed. 

LXXV. 

It is admirable to consider the power of faith, by which allthings are (almost) possible to be done; it can remove mountaines(if need were) it hath stayd the course of the sun, raised thedead, cast out divels, reversed the order of nature, quenched theviolence of the fire, made the water become firme footing forPeter to walk on; nay more than all these, it hath overcome theOmnipotent himself, as when Moses intercedes for the people, Godsath to him, let me alone that I may destroy them, as if Moses hadbeen able, by the hand of faith, to hold the everlasting arms ofthe mighty God of Jacob; yea, Jacob himself, when he wrestled withGod face to face in Peniel: let me go! sath that Angell. I willnot let thee go, replys Jacob, till thou blesse me, faith is notonly thus potent, but it is so necessary that without faith thereis no salvation, therefore, with all our seekings and gettings, let us above all seek to obtain this pearle of prise. 

LXXVI. 

Some Christians do by their lusts and Corruptions as the Isralitsdid by the Canaanites, not destroy them, but put them undertribute, for that they could do (as they thought) with lessehazard, and more profit; but what was the Issue? They became asnare unto them, prickes in their eyes, and thornes in theirsides, and at last overcame them, and kept them under slavery; soit is most certain that those that are disobedient to theCommandment of God, and endeavour not to the utmost to drive outall their accursed inmates, but make a league with them, theyshall at last fall into perpetuall bondage under them, unlesse thegreat deliverer, Christ Jesus come to their rescue. 

LXXVII. 

God hath by his providence so ordered, that no one country hathall Commoditys within itself, but what it wants, another shallsupply, that so there may be a mutuall Commerce through the world. As it is with countrys so it is with men, there was never yet anyone man that had all excellences, let his parts, naturall andacquired, spirituall and morall, be never so large, yet he standsin need of something which another man hath, (perhaps meaner thanhimself, ) which shows us perfection is not below, as also, thatGod will have us beholden one to another. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE PURITAN REIGN OF TERROR. 

The ten years which followed the death of Governor Winthrop earlyin 1649, were years of steady outward prosperity, yet causes wereat work, which gradually complicated the political situation andprepared the necessity for the explanation which the mothercountry at last peremptorily demanded, Simon Bradstreet beingselected as one of the men most capable of suitable reply. So longas Winthrop lived, his even and sagacious course hindered manycomplications which every circumstance fostered. Even in thefierce dissensions over Anne Hutchinson and her theories, he hadstill been able to retain the personal friendship of those whom asa magistrate he had most severely judged. Wheelwright andCoddington, who had suffered many losses; Sir Harry Vane, who hadreturned to England sore and deeply indignant at the colonialaction; Clark and Williams, bitter as they might be againstMassachusetts principles, had only affection for the gracious andhumane governor, who gave himself as freely as he gave hisfortune, and whose theories, however impracticable they may attimes have seemed, have all justified themselves in later years. Through the early privations and the attempts of some to escapethe obligations laid upon them, by the mere fact of having cometogether to the unknown country, he set his face steadily againstall division, and there is no more characteristic passage in hisJournal than that in which he gives the reasons which should bindthem to common and united action. Various disaffected and uneasysouls had wandered off to other points, and Winthrop gives theresults, at first quietly and judicially, but rising at the closeto a noble indignation. 

"Others who went to other places, upon like grounds, succeeded nobetter. They fled for fear of want, and many of them fell into it, even to extremity, as if they had hastened into the misery whichthey feared and fled from, besides the depriving themselves of theordinances and church fellowship, and those civil liberties whichthey enjoyed here; whereas, such as staid in their places kepttheir peace and ease, and enjoyed still the blessing of theordinances, and never tasted of those troubles and miseries, whichthey heard to have befallen those who departed. Much disputationthere was about liberty of removing for outward advantages, andall ways were sought for an open door to get out at; but it is tobe feared many crept out at a broken wall. For such as cometogether into a wilderness, where are nothing but wild beasts andbeast-like men, and there confederate together in civil and churchestate, whereby they do, implicitly at least, bind themselves tosupport each other, and all of them that society, whether civil orsacred, whereof they are members, how they can break from thiswithout free consent, is hard to find, so as may satisfy a tenderor good conscience in time of trial. Ask thy conscience, if thouwouldst have plucked up thy stakes, and brought thy family 3000miles, if thou hadst expected that all, or most, would haveforsaken thee there. Ask again, what liberty thou hast towardsothers, which thou likest not to allow others towards thyself; forif one may go, another may, and so the greater part, and so churchand commonwealth may be left destitute in a wilderness, exposed tomisery and reproach, and all for thy ease and pleasure, whereasthese all, being now thy brethren, as near to thee as theIsraelites were to Moses, it were much safer for thee after hisexample, to choose rather to suffer affliction with thy brethrenthan to enlarge thy ease and pleasure by furthering the occasionof their ruin. "

What he demanded of others he gave freely himself, and no longtime was required to prove to all, that union was their onlysalvation. 

He had lived to see the spirit of co-operation active in manyways. Churches were quietly doing their work with as littlewrangling over small doctrinal differences as could be expectedfrom an age in which wrangling was the chief symptom of vitality. Education had settled upon a basis it has always retained, that of"universal knowledge at the public cost"; the College was doingits work so effectually that students came from England itself toshare in her privileges, and justice gave as impartial and even-handed results as conscientious magistrates knew how to furnish. The strenuous needs and sacrifices of the early days were over. Ageneration had arisen, knowing them only by hearsay, and for eventhe humblest, substantial prosperity was the rule. Johnson, in his"Wonder-Working Providence, " wrote words that held no exaggerationin their description of the comfort which has, from that day tothis, been the characteristic of New England homes. "The Lord hathbeen pleased to turn all the wigwams, huts, and hovels the Englishdwelt in at their first coming, into orderly, fair, and well-builthouses, well furnished many of them, together with orchards, filled with goodly fruit-trees, and gardens with variety offlowers. . . . There are many hundreds of laboring men, who had notenough to bring them over, yet now, worth scores, and some, hundreds of pounds. The Lord whose promises are large to His Sion, hath blessed his people's provision, and satisfied her poor withbread, in a very little space. Everything in the country proved astaple commodity. And those who were formerly forced to fetch mostof the bread they eat, and the beer they drink, a thousand leaguesby sea, are, through the blessing of the Lord, so increased, thatthey have not only fed their elder sisters, Virginia, Barbadoesand many of the Summer Islands, that were preferred before her forfruitfulness, but also the grandmother of us all, even the fertileisle of Great Britain. "

With such conditions the colonists were happy, and as the work oftheir hands prospered, one might have thought that gentler modes ofjudgment would have grown with it, and toleration if not welcomehave been given to the few dissenting minds that appeared amongthem. Had Winthrop lived, this might have been possible, but thenew generation, fast replacing the early rulers, had theirprejudices but not their experience, and were as fierce opponentsof any new _ism_ as their fathers had been before them, while theirrash action often complicated the slower and more consideratemovements of the elders that remained. 

For England the ten years in which the Colony had made itself apower, had been filled with more and more agitation and distress. There was little time for attention to anything but their owndifficulties and perplexities, the only glances across seas beingthose of distrust and jealousy. Winthrop happily died before thenews of the beheadal of Charles I. Had reached New England, andfor a time, Cromwell was too busy with the reduction of Irelandand the problem of government suddenly thrust upon him, to doanything but ignore the active life so much after his own heart, in the new venture of which he had once so nearly become a part. It is possible that the attitude of New England for a time baseditself on the supposition, that life with them was so thoroughlyin harmony with the Protector's own theories that interference wasimpossible. There were men among them, however, who watched hiscourse warily, and who were not indisposed to follow the examplehe had set by revolt against hated institutions, but for the mostpart they went their way, quietly reticent and content to wait fortime to demonstrate the truth or error of their convictions. Butfor the most there was entire content with the present. 

Evidently no hint of a possible and coming Restoration foundslightest credence with them, and thus they laid up a store ofoffences for which they were suddenly to be called to account. When at last the Restoration had been accomplished and Charles II, whose laughing eyes had held less mockery for William Penn thanany among the representatives of sects he so heartily despised, turned to question how Quakers had fared in this objectionable andpresumptuous Colony of New England, the answer was not one topropitiate, or to incline to any favor. The story is not one thatany New Englander will care to dwell upon, even to-day, whenindifference is the rule toward all theological dissension, pastor present. It is certain that had Winthrop lived, matters couldnever have reached the extremity they did. It is equally certainthat the non-combatants conquered, though the victory was a bloodyone. Two sides are still taken to-day, even among New Englandauthorities. For Quakers, there is of course but one, yet in alltheir statements there seems to be infinitely less bitterness thanthey might reasonably have shown. That one or two wild fanaticscommitted actions, which could have no other foundation thanunsettled minds, cannot be denied by even the most uncompromisingadvocate of the Quaker side. But they were so evidently the resultof distempered and excited brains, that only a community who heldevery inexplicable action to result from the direct influence ofSatan, could have done anything but pass them by in silentforbearance. 

Had John Cotton been alive in the year in which the Quakers choseBoston as their working ground, his gentle and conciliatingnature, shown so fully in the trial of Anne Hutchinson, would havefound some means of reconciling their theories with such phases ofthe Puritan creed as were in sympathy with them. But a fardifferent mind held his place, and had become the leading ministerin the Colony. John Norton, who had taken Nathaniel Ward's placeat Ipswich, was called after twenty years of service, to theBoston church, and his melancholy temperament and argumentative, not to say pragmatical turn of mind, made him ready to seize uponthe first cause of offence. 

News of the doings of the obnoxious sect in England had been fullydiscussed in the Colony, and the law passed as a means ofprotection against the heresies of Anne Hutchinson and her school, and which had simply waited new opportunity for its execution, came into exercise sooner than they had expected. 

It is difficult to re-create for our own minds, the state ofoutraged susceptibility--of conviction that Jehovah in person hadreceived the extremity of insult from every one who dared to gooutside the fine points for a system of belief, which filled thechurches in 1656. The "Inward Light" struck every minister uponwhose ears the horrid words fell, as only less shocking thanwitchcraft or any other light amusement of Satan, and a day ofpublic humiliation had already been appointed by the GeneralCourt, "to seek the face of God in behalf of our native country, in reference to the abounding of errors, especially those of theRanters and Quakers. "

The discussion of their offences was in full height, when in July, 1656, there sailed into Boston harbor a ship from the Barbadoes, in which were two Quaker women, Mary Fisher and Anne Austin. 

Never were unwelcome visitors met by a more formidable delegation. Down to the wharf posted Governor and Deputy-Governor, fourprincipal Magistrates, with a train of yeoman supplemented by halfthe population of Boston, who faced the astonished master of thevessel with orders which forced him to give bonds to carry thewomen back to the point from whence they came. This might haveseemed sufficient, but was by no means considered so. The unhappywomen were ordered to goal till the return of the vessel; a fewbooks brought with them were burned by the executioner, and fromevery pulpit in the Colony came fierce denunciations of theintruders. 

They left, and the excitement was subsiding a little when astronger occasion for terror presented itself in another vessel, this time from England, bearing eight more of the firebrands, fourmen and four women, besides a zealous convert made on the way fromLong Island, where the vessel had stopped for a short time. Elevenweeks of imprisonment did not silence the voices of these self-elected missionaries, and the uncompromising character of theirutterances ought to have commended them to a people who had beendriven out of England for the identical cause. A people who hadfallen to such depths of frenzied fanaticism as to drive cattleand swine into churches and cathedrals and baptize them with mocksolemnity, who had destroyed or mutilated beyond repair organs, fonts, stained glass and every article of priestly use oradornment, might naturally have looked with understanding andsympathetic eyes on the women who, made desperate by suffering, turned upon them and pronounced their own preachers, "hirelings, Baals, and seed of the serpent. "

The Quakers frowned upon Church music, but not before the PuritanPrynne had written of choirs: "Choirsters bellow the tenor as itwere oxen; bark a counterpart, as it were a kennel of dogs; roarout a treble, as it were a sort of bulls; and grunt a bass, as itwere a number of hogs. " They arraigned bishops, but in words lessfull of bitterness, than those in which one of the noblest amongPuritan leaders of thought, recorded his conviction. Milton, writing of all bishops: "They shall be thrown down eternally, intothe darkest and deepest gulf of hell the trample and spurn of allthe other damned . . . And shall exercise a raving and bestialtyranny over them . . . They shall remain in that plight forever, thebasest, the lowermost, the most dejected and down-trodden vasselsof perdition. "

No word from the most fanatical Quaker who ever appeared beforetribunal of man, exceeded this, or thousands of similar declarations, from men as ready for martyrdom as those they judged, andas obstinately bent upon proving their creed the only one thatreasonable human beings should hold. The wildest alarm seizedupon not only Massachusetts but each one of the confederatedcolonies. The General Court passed a series of laws againstthem, by which ship-masters were fined a hundred pounds if aQuaker was brought over by them, as well as forced to givesecurity for the return of all to the point from whence they came. They enacted, also, that all Quakers who entered the Colony fromany point should "be forthwith committed to the House ofCorrection, and at their entrance to be severely whipped, and bythe master thereof to be kept constantly to work, and nonesuffered to converse or speak with them during the time of theirimprisonment. "

No Quaker book could be imported, circulated or concealed, save onpenalty of a fine of five pounds, and whoever should venture todefend the new opinions, paid for the first offence a fine of twopounds; for the second, double that amount and for the third, imprisonment in the House of Correction till there should "beconvenient passage for them to be sent out of the land. "

Through the streets of Boston went the crier with his drum, publishing the law which was instantly violated by an indignantcitizen, one Nicholas Upsall, who, for "reproaching the honoredMagistrates, and speaking against the law made and publishedagainst Quakers, " not only once but with a continuous andconfounding energy, was sentenced to pay a fine of twenty pounds, and "to depart the jurisdiction within one month, not to return, under the penalty of imprisonment. "

Then came a period in which fines, imprisonments, whippings andnow and then a cropping of ears, failed to lessen the numbers whocame, with full knowledge of what the consequences must be, andwho behaved themselves with the aggressiveness of those bent uponmartyrdom. More and more excited by daily defiance, penalties weredoubled, the fine for harboring a Quaker being increased to fortyshillings an hour, and the excitement rising to higher and higherpoint. Could they but have looked upon the insane freaks of someof their visitors with the same feeling which rose in theMohammedan mind, there would have been a different story for bothsides. Dr. Palfrey describes the Turk's method, which only a Turk, however, could have carried out: "Prompted by that superstitiousreverence which he (the Turk) was educated to pay to lunatics, aspersons inspired, he received these visitors with deferential andceremonious observance, and with a prodigious activity ofgenuflections and salams, bowed them out of his country. Theycould make nothing of it, and in that quarter gave up theirenterprise in despair. "

The General Court was the despairing body at this time. Months hadpassed, and severity had simply multiplied the numbers to be dealtwith. But one remedy remained to be tried, a remedy against whichSimon Bradstreet's voice is said to have been the only one raised, and the General Court, following the advice of Endicott andNorton, passed the vote which is still one of the darkest blots onthe old records--

"Whereas, there is an accursed and pernicious sect of hereticslately risen up in the world who are commonly called Quakers, whotake upon them to be immediately sent of God and infalliblyassisted; who do speak and write blasphemous things, despisinggovernment and the order of God in church and commonwealth, speaking evil of dignities, reproaching and reviling magistratesand the ministers of the Gospel, seeking to turn the people fromthe faith, and to gain proselytes to their pernicious ways; andwhereas the several jurisdictions have made divers laws toprohibit and restrain the aforesaid cursed heretics from comingamongst them, yet notwithstanding they are not deterred thereby, but arrogantly and presumptuously do press into several of thejurisdictions, and there vent their pernicious and devilishopinions, which being permitted, tends manifestly to thedisturbance of our peace, the withdrawing of the hearts of thepeople from their subjection to government, and so in issue tocause division and ruin if not timely prevented; it is thereforepropounded and seriously commended to the several General Courts, upon the considerations aforesaid, to make a law that all suchQuakers formerly convicted and punished as such, shall (if theyreturn again) be imprisoned, and forthwith banished or expelledout of the said jurisdiction, under pain of death; and ifafterwards they presume to come again into that jurisdiction, thento be put to death as presumptuously incorrigible, unless theyshall plainly and publicly renounce their cursed opinions; and forsuch Quakers as shall come into any jurisdiction from any foreignparts, or such as shall arise within the same, after dueconviction that either he or she is of that cursed sect ofheretics, they be banished under pain of severe corporalpunishment; and if they return again, then to be punishedaccordingly, and banished under pain of death; and if afterwardsthey shall yet presume to come again, then to be put to death asaforesaid, except they do then and there plainly and publiclyrenounce their said cursed opinions and devilish tenets. "

This was not the first time that death had been named as thepenalty against any who returned after banishment, and it hadproved effectual in keeping away many malcontents. But the Quakerswere of different stuff, the same determined temper which had madethe Puritan submit to any penalty rather than give up his faith, being the common possession of both. 

In an address made to the King, partly aggressive partlyapologetic in tone, the wretched story sums itself up in a singleparagraph: "Twenty-two have been banished upon pain of death. Three have been martyred, and three have had their right ears cut. One hath been burned in the hand with the letter H. Thirty-onepersons have received six hundred and fifty stripes. One was beatwhile his body was like a jelly. Several were beat with pitchedropes. Five appeals made to England were denied by the rulers ofBoston. One thousand, forty-four pounds' worth of goods hath beentaken from them (being poor men) for meeting together in the fearof the Lord, and for keeping the commands of Christ. One now liethin iron fetters condemned to die. "

That Massachusetts felt herself responsible for not only her ownsafety but that of her allies, and that this safety appeared to bemenaced by a people who recognized few outward laws, was the onlypalliation of a course which in time showed itself as folly, evento the most embittered. The political consequences were of anature, of which in their first access of zeal, they had taken noaccount. The complaints and appeals of the Quakers had at lastproduced some effect, and there was well-grounded apprehensionthat the sense of power which had brought the Colony to act withthe freedom of an independent state, might result in the loss ofsome of their most dearly-prized privileges. The Quakers hadconquered, and the magistrates suddenly became conscious that suchstrength as theirs need never have dreaded the power of thisfeeble folk, and that their institutions could never fall beforean attack from any hands save those of the King himself, towardwhom they now turned with an alarmed deprecation. The Puritanreign of terror for New England was over, its story to thisgeneration seeming as incredible as it is shameful. Brutality isnot quite dead even to-day, but there is cause for rejoicing that, for America at least, freedom of conscience can never again meanwhipping, branding and torturing of unnamable sorts for tenderwomen and even children. Puritan and Quaker have sunk olddifferences, but it is the Quaker who, while ignoring some phasesof a past in which neither present as calm an expression to theworld as should be the portion of the infallibility claimedtacitly by both sides, is still able to write:

"The mission of the Puritans was almost a complete failure. Theirplan of government was repudiated, and was succeeded by morehumane laws and wiser political arrangements. Their religion, though it long retained its hold in theory, was replaced by oneless bigoted and superstitious. It is now a thing of the past, amere tradition, an antiquated curiosity. The early Quakers, orsome of them, in common with the Puritans, may illustrate some ofthe least attractive characteristics of their times; but they wereabreast, if not in advance, of the foremost advocates of religiousand civil freedom. They were more than advocates--they were thepioneers, who, by their heroic fortitude, patient suffering andpersistent devotion, rescued the old Bay Colony from the jaws ofthe certain death to which the narrow and mistaken policy of thebigoted and sometimes insincere founders had doomed it. Theyforced them to abandon pretentious claims, to admit strangerswithout insulting them, to tolerate religious differences, and toincorporate into their legislation the spirit of liberty which isnow the life-blood of our institutions. The religion of theSociety of Friends is still an active force, having its full shareof influence upon our civilization. The vital principle--'TheInward Light'--scoffed at and denounced by the Puritans as adelusion, is recognized as a profound spiritual truth by sages andphilosophers. "

Through it all, though Simon Bradstreet's name occurs often in therecords of the Court, it is usually as asking some questionintended to divert attention if possible from the more aggressivephases of the examination, and sooth the excited feelings ofeither side. But naturally his sympathies were chiefly with hisown party, and his wife would share his convictions. There is nosurprise, therefore, in finding him numbered by the Quakers asamong those most bitterly against them. 

It is certain that Simon Bradstreet plead for moderation, but someof the Quaker offences were such as would most deeply wound hissense of decorum, and from the Quaker standpoint he is numberedamong the worst persecutors. 

In "New England Judged by the Spirit of the Lord, " a prominentQuaker wrote: "Your high-priest, John Norton, and SimonBradstreet, one of your magistrates, . . . Were deeply concerned inthe Blood of the Innocents and their cruel sufferings, the oneas advising, the other as acting, " and he writes at another:point "Simon Bradstreet, a man hardened in Blood and a cruelpersecutor. "

There is a curious suggestiveness in another count of the sameindictment. "Simon Bradstreet and William Hathorn aforesaid wereAssistant to Denison in these executions, whose Names I Record toRot and Stink as of you all to all Generations, unto whom thisshall be left as a perpetual Record of your Everlasting Shame. "

William Hathorn had an unwholesome interest in all sorrow andcatastrophe, the shadow of these evil days descending to therepresentative Nathanael Hawthorne, whose pen has touched Puritanweaknesses and Puritan strength, with a power no other has everheld, but the association was hardly more happy for Bradstreetthen, than at a later day when an economical Hathorn bundled himout of his tomb to make room for his own bones. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

HOME AND ABROAD. 

In the midst of all this agitation and confusion Anne Bradstreetpursued her quiet way, more disposed to comment on the misdoingsof the Persians or Romans than on anything nearer home, thoughsome lines in her "Dialogue between Old England and New, " indicatethat she followed the course of every event with an anxious andintelligent interest. In 1657, her oldest son had left forEngland, where he remained until 1661, and she wrote then someverses more to be commended for their motherly feeling than forany charm of expression:

 UPON MY SON SAMUEL HIS GOEING FOR ENGLAND, NOVEM. 6, 1657. 

 Thou mighty God of Sea and Land, I here resigne into thy hand The Son of prayers, of vowes, of teares, The child I stayed for many yeares. Thou heard'st me then and gave'st him me; Hear me again, I give him Thee. He's mine, but more, O Lord thine own, For sure thy Grace is on him shown. No friend I have like Thee to trust, For mortall helps are brittle Dust. Preserve O Lord, from stormes and wrack, Protect him there and bring him back; And if thou shall spare me a space, That I again may see his face, Then shall I celebrate thy Praise, And Blesse thee for't even all my Dayes. If otherwise I goe to Rest, Thy Will bee done, for that is best; Perswade my heart I shall him see Forever happefy'd with Thee. 

There were others of much the same order on his return, in 1661, but her feelings centered then on the anxieties and dangers of thecourse which had been resolved upon. The enemies of the Colonywere busy in London, and the King was strongly inclined to takevery decisive measures for its humiliation. Explanations must bemade by some one who had had personal experience in every case nowused against them, and after long and troubled consultation theColonial Government reluctantly decided to send two Commissionersto England, selecting John Norton and Simon Bradstreet as bestcapable of meeting the emergency. 

There was personal peril as well as political anxiety. The Kingconstitutionally listened to the first comer rather than thesecond, and had already sided with the Quakers. To Norton itseemed a willful putting of his head into the lion's jaws, and hehesitated, and debated, and at last, from pure nervousness fellviolently ill. The ship which was to carry them waited, andfinally as it seemed impossible for him to rally his forces, beganunlading the provisions sent on board. The disgusted Governmentofficers prepared explanatory letters, and were on the point ofsending them when Mr. Norton came to his senses, and announcedthat the Lord had "encouraged and strengthened his heart, " and hewent decorously on board. 

The mission, though pronounced by some Quaker historians afailure, was in reality after many delays and more hard words atolerable success. The King was still too uncertain of his ownposition to quarrel with as powerful a set of friends as theMassachusetts Colony were now disposed to prove themselves, andthe Commissioners returned home, bearing a renewal of the charter, though the letters held other matters less satisfactory to thePuritan temper. The King required an oath of allegiance from all, and that "all laws and ordinances . . . Contrary or derogative tohis authority and government should be annulled and repealed. "

Toleration was made obligatory, and one clause outraged everyPuritan susceptibility; that in which it was ordered that, "in theelection of the Governor or Assistants, there should be onlyconsideration of the wisdom and integrity of the persons to bechosen, and not of any faction with reference to their opinion orprofession. "

Governor Dudley's shade must have looked with amazed dismay andwrath upon this egg, which could hardly fail to "a Tolerationhatch, " filled with every evil his verses had prophesied, andthere were many of the same mind. But popular dissatisfaction intime died away, as no ill results came from the new methods, whichwere ignored as often as possible, and the working of which couldnot be very effectually watched in England. Simon Bradstreet, though censured by many, pursued his quiet way, thankful to besafely at home again with his head in its proper place, and hiswife rejoiced over him in various poems which celebrated theletters he wrote, and every detail of his coming and going. 

The summer of 1666 brought one of the sharpest trials her life hadever known, the destruction of her house by fire taking place inJuly. Each change of location to one of her tenacious affectionsand deep love of home, had been a sharp wrench, and she requiredlong familiarity to reconcile her to new conditions. Though thefirst and greatest change from England to America would seem tohave rendered all others trivial and not to be regarded, she hadshrank from each as it came, submitting by force of will, butunreconciled till years had past. In Andover she had allowedherself to take firm root, certain that from this point she wouldnever be dislodged, and the house had gradually become filled notonly with treasured articles of furniture and adornments, but withthe associations to which she always clung. There were familyportraits and heirlooms brought from the old home in Lincolnshire;a library of nearly eight hundred volumes, many of them rareeditions difficult to replace, as well as her own special booksand papers. 

For these last there was no hope of renewal. Many of them were thework of her early womanhood; others held the continuation of herRoman Monarchy; small loss to the world at large, but thedestruction of a work which had beguiled many hours of the bodilysuffering from which she was seldom free. The second edition ofher poems, published after her death, held an apology found amongher papers, for the uncompleted state of this monarchy, in whichshe wrote:

 To finish what's begun was my intent, My thoughts and my endeavors thereto bent; Essays I many made but still gave out, The more I mus'd, the more I was in doubt: The subject large my mind and body weak, With many more discouragements did speak. All thoughts of further progress laid aside, Though oft persuaded, I as oft deny'd, At length resolv'd when many years had past, To prosecute my story to the last; And for the same, I, hours not few did spend, And weary lines (though lanke) I many pen'd: But 'fore I could accomplish my desire My papers fell a prey to th' raging fire. And thus my pains with better things I lost, Which none had cause to wail, nor I to boast. No more I'le do, sith I have suffer'd wrack, Although my Monarchies their legs do lack: No matter is't this last, the world now sees Hath many Ages been upon his knees. 

The disaster finds record in the Rev. Simon Bradstreet's diary:

"July 12, 1666. Whilst I was at N. London my father's house atAndover was burnt, where I lost my Books and many of my clothes, to the valieu of 50 or 60 pounds at least; The Lord gave, and theLord hath taken, blessed bee the name of the Lord. Tho: my ownlosse of books (and papers espec. ) was great and my fathers farmore being about 800, yet ye Lord was pleased gratiously manywayes to make up ye same to us. It is therefore good to trust inthe Lord"

The "newe house" built at once and furnished with the utmostelegance of the time, Simon Bradstreet's prosperity admitting thefree expenditure he always loved, could by no means fill the placeof the old. She looked about each room with a half-expectationthat the familiar articles with which so much of her outward lifehad been associated, must be in the old places, and patiently asshe bore the loss, their absence fretted and saddened her. One ofher latest poems holds her sorrow and the resignation she came atlast to feel:

 "In silent night when rest I took, For sorrow neer I did not look, I waken'd was with thundring nois And Piteous shreiks of dreadfull voice; That fearfull sound of fire and fire, Let no man know is my desire. 

 I, starting up the light did spye, And to my God my heart did cry To strengthen me in my Distress And not to leave me succourlesse, When coming out, beheld a space, The flame consume my dwelling place. 

 And, when I could no longer look, I blest his name that gave and took, That layd my goods now in the dust; Yea so it was, and so 'twas just. It was his own; it was not mine ffar be it that I should repine. 

 He might of All justly bereft But yet sufficient for us left. When by the Ruines oft I past, My sorrowing eyes aside did cast, And here and there the places spye Where oft I sate, and long did lye. 

 Here stood that Trunk and there that chest; There lay that store I counted best; My pleasant things in ashes lye, And them behold no more shall I. Vnder thy roof no guest shall sitt, Nor at thy Table eat a bitt. 

 No pleasant tale shall 'ere be told, Nor things recounted done of old. No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee, Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee. In silence ever shalt thou lye; Adieu, Adieu; All's vanity. 

 Then streight I 'gin my heart to chide, And did thy wealth on earth abide? Dids't fix thy hope on mouldering dust, The arm of flesh dids't make thy trust? Raise up thy thoughts above the skye That dunghill mists away may flie. 

 Thou hast a house on high erect, Fram'd by that mighty Architect With glory richly furnished, Stands permanent tho: this be fled. 'Its purchased and paid for too By him who hath enough to doe. 

 A prise so vast as is unknown Yet by his gift is made thine own. Ther's wealth enough, I need no more; Farewell my Pelf, farewell my Store. The world no longer let me Love, My hope and Treasure lyes Above. "

The fortunes of the new house were hardly happy ones. With thedeath of his wife Governor Bradstreet left it in possession of ayounger son, Captain Dudley Bradstreet, who was one of the mostimportant citizens of Andover, having been "selectman, colonel ofmilitia, and magistrate, " while still a young man. His father'sbroad yet moderate views and his mother's gentle and devotedspirit seem to have united in him, for when the witchcraftdelusion was at its height, and even the most honored men andwomen in the little community were in danger of their lives, hesuddenly resolved to grant no more warrants for either apprehensionor imprisonment. This was shocking enough to the excitedpopular mind, but when he added to such offence a plea, whichhe himself drew up for some of the victims, who, as they admitted, had made confession of witchcraft "by reason of sudden surprisal, when exceedingly astonished and amazed and consternated andaffrighted even out of reason, " there was no room left for anyconviction save that he was under the same spell. Loved as he hadbeen by all the people whom he had served unselfishly for twentyyears, the craze which possessed them all, wiped out any memory ofthe past or any power of common sense in the present, and he fledin the night and for a long time remained in hiding. The delusionended as suddenly as it had begun, a reaction setting in, and thepeople doing all in their power to atone for the suspicion andoutrage that had caused his flight. Placable and friendly, the oldrelations were resumed as far as possible, though the shadow hadbeen too heavy an one ever to pass entirely. 

Another terror even greater had come before the century ended: Anact of treachery had been commited by a citizen of Andover, aCaptain Chubb, who had in 1693 been in command of Fort Pemaquid, and having first plied a delegation of Penobscot Indians withliquor, gave orders for their massacre while still in theirdrunken sleep. In an after attack by French and Indians upon thefort, he surrendered on promise of personal safety, and in time, returned to Andover, disgraced, but abundantly satisfied to havesaved his scalp. 

The rest of the story is given by Cotton Mather in the Magnalia:

"The winter, (1693) was the severest that ever was in the memoryof Man. And yet February must not pass without a stroke uponPemquid Chub, whom the Government had mercifully permitted afterhis examination to retire unto his habitation in Andover. As muchout of the way as to Andover there came above thirty Indians aboutthe middle of February as if their errand had been for vengeanceupon Chub, whom, with his wife they now massacred there. "Hutchinson comments gravely: "It is not probable they had anyknowledge of the place of his abode, but it caused them greaterjoy than the taking of many towns. Rapin would have pronouncedsuch an event the immediate judgement of Heaven. Voltaire, that inthe place of supposed safety, the man could not avoid hisdestiny. "

The towns mustered hastily, but not before the flames of theburning buildings had arisen at many points, and terrified womenand children had been dragged from their beds and in one or twocases murdered at once, though most were reserved as captives. Dudley Bradstreet and his family were of this latter number. Thehouse was broken into and plundered; his kinsman who attempteddefence, cut down on the spot, and the same fate might haveovertaken all, had not an Indian who had received some specialkindness from the colonel, interfered and prevented the butchery. The family were carried some fifty rods from the house and thenreleased and allowed to return, and by this time the soldiers werearmed and the party routed. No sense of safety could be felt then, or for many years thereafter, and from terror and other causes, the house was in time forsaken by its natural owners and passedinto other hands, though no tenant, even of sixty years standinghas had power to secure to it any other title than that which itstill holds--"the Bradstreet house. "

 * * * * *

For its first occupants possession was nearly over. The vitalitywhich had carried Anne Bradstreet through longer life than couldhave been imagined possible, was nearly exhausted. 

Constant weakness and pain and occasional attacks of severeillness marked all the later years of her life, which for the lastthree, was a weariness to herself, and a source of suffering toall who saw her suffer. Certain that it could not last long, shebegan at one time the little autobiographical diary, found amongher papers after death, and containing the only personal detailsthat remained, even these being mere suggestions. All her life shehad been subject to sudden attacks of faintness, and even as earlyas 1656, lay for hours unconscious, remaining in a state ofpitiful weakness many days thereafter. One of these attacks foundrecord on a loose paper, added by one of her sons to themanuscript book of "Religious Reflections, " and showing with whatpatience she met the ills for the overcoming of which anyphysician of the time was powerless, and against which she made alife-long resistance. It was the beginning of a battle which hasever since held its ground in New England, to "enjoy poor health, "yet be ready for every emergency, being a state of things on whichthe average woman rather prides herself, medicine, quack or home-brewed, ranking in importance with the "means of grace. "

SUBMISSION AND RELIANCE. 

"July 8th, 1656. I had a sore fitt of fainting, which lasted 2 or3 days, but not in that extremity which at first it took me, andso moch the sorer it was to me, because my dear husband was fromhome (who is my chiefest comforter on Earth); but my God, whonever failed me, was not absent, but helped me, and gratiouslymanifested his Love to me, which I dare not passe by withoutRemembrance, that it may bee a support to me when I shall haveoccasion to read this hereafter, and to others that shall read itwhen I shall possesse that I now hope for, that so they may beeencourage'd to trust in him who is the only Portion of hisServants. O Lord, let me never forgett thy Goodness, nor questionthy faithfullness to me, for thou art my God: Thou hast said, andshall not I believe it? Thou hast given me a pledge of thatInheritance thou hast promised to bestow upon me. O, never letSatan prevail against me, but strengthen my faith in Thee, 'till Ishall attain the end of my hopes, even the Salvation of my Soul. Come, Lord Jesus; come quickly. "

 DELIVERANCE FROM A FITT OF FAINTING. 

 Worthy art Thou O Lord of praise! But ah! it's not in me; My sinking heart I pray thee raise, So shall I give it Thee. 

 My life as Spider's webb's cut off, Thos fainting have I said, And liveing man no more shall see, But bee in Silence layd. 

 My feblee Spirit Thou didst revive, My Doubting Thou didst chide, And tho: as dead mad'st me alive, I here a while might 'bide. 

 Why should I live but to thy Praise? My life is hid with Thee; O Lord no longer bee my Dayes, Then I may froitfull bee. 

"August 28, 1656. After much weaknes and sicknes when my spiritswere worn out, and many times my faith weak likewise, the Lord waspleased to uphold my drooping heart, and to manifest his Love tome; and this is that which stayes my Soul that this condition thatI am in is the best for me, for God doth not afflict willingly, nor take delight in grieving the children of men: he hath nobenefitt by my adversity, nor is he the better for my prosperity;but he doth it for my Advantage, and that I may be a Gainer by it. And if he knowes that weaknes and a frail body is the best to makemee a vessell fitt for his use, why should I not bare it, not onlywillingly but joyfully? The Lord knowes I dare not desire thathealth that sometimes I have had, least my heart should bee drawnfrom him, and sett upon the world. 

"Now I can wait, looking every day when my Saviour shall call forme. Lord, grant that while I live I may doe that service I am ablein this frail Body, and bee in continual expectation of my change, and let me never forget thy great Love to my soul so latelyexpressed, when I could lye down and bequeath my Soul to thee, andDeath seem'd no terrible Thing. O, let mee ever see thee, that Artinvisible, and I shall not bee unwilling to come, tho: by so rougha messenger. "

Through all the long sickness the family life went on unchanged, save in the contracting circle, from which one child and anotherpassed. There was still strength to direct the daily round ofhousehold duties, and to listen with quick sympathy to the manywho came to her trouble. There was not only the village life withits petty interests, but the larger official one of her husband, in which she shared so far as full knowledge of its detailsallowed, Simon Bradstreet, like Governor Winthrop, believingstrongly in that "inward sight" which made women often clearerjudges than men of perplexed and knotty points. Two bits of familylife are given in a document still in existence and copied by theNew England Historical and Genalogical Register for 1859. To it isappended the full signature of Anne Bradstreet, in a clear, upright hand, of singular distinctness and beauty when comparedwith much of the penmanship of that period. But one otherautograph is in existence. It is evident from the nature of thedocument, that village life had its infelicities in 1670, quite asfully as to-day, and that a poem might have grown out of it, haddaily life been thought worthy of a poem. 

"This witnesseth, that wee heard good(tm) Sutton say, there wasnoe horses in his yard that night in wch Mr Bradstreetes mare waskilled, & afterwards that there was none that he knew of; butbeing told by Mr Bradstreete that hee thought hee could p've heedrave out some, then hee sd, yes, now I remembr there was 3 or 4. 

"Further, wee testifie the sd. Sutton sd. Att yt tyme there wasnoe dogg there, but his wch was a puppy, & Mr Danes that would notbyte. 

 ANNE BRADSTREET MERCY BRADSTREET DUDLEY BRADSTREET JOHN BRADSTREET EDWARD WHITTINGTON ALEXANDER SESSIONS [his marke] ROBTE. RB BUSELY. "

Law was resorted to in even small disagreements with a haste andfrequency excellent for the profession employed, but going far tointensify the litigious spirit of the day, and tolerant as SimonBradstreet was in all large matters, his name occurs withunpleasant frequency in these petty village suits. This suit withgoodman Sutton was but one of many, almost all of which arose fromthe trespasses of animals. Fences were few, and though they wereviewed at intervals by the "perambulators, " and decided to be"very sufficient against all orderly cattle, " the swine declinedto come under this head, and rooted their way into desirablegarden patches to the wrath and confusion of their owners, allpersons at last, save innholders, being forbidden to keep morethan ten of the obnoxious animals. Horses, also, broke loose attimes, and Mr. Bradstreet was not the only one who suffered loss, one of the first tragedies in the little town, being a hand tohand fight, ending in a stabbing of one of the parties, both ofwhom belonged to good families and were but lightly judged in thetrial which followed. They were by no means a peaceful community, and if the full truth be told, a week of colonial life would proveto hold almost as large a proportion of squabbles as any townrecord of to-day. 

The second one gives some difficulties connected with the marriageof Governor Bradstreet's daughter Mercy, which took place Oct. 31, 1672, but not till various high words had passed, and sufficienthard feeling been engendered to compel the preparing of theaffidavit, which probably, whatever its effect may have been onthe parents, did not touch the happiness of the young pair forwhose respective rights they had debated. 

"When Mr. Johnathan Wade of Ipswich came first to my house attAndover in the yeare 72, to make a motion of marriage betwixt hisson Nathaniel and my daughter Mercy hee freely of himself told meewhat he would give to his son vz. One halfe of his Farme attMistick and one third p't of his land in England when hee dyed, and that hee should have liberty to make use of p't of the imp'vedand broken upp ground upon the sd Farme, till hee could gett somebroken upp for himselfe upon his owne p't and likewis | that heeshould live in and have the use of halfe the house, and untill hehad one | of his owne built upon his p't of the farme. I waswilling to accept of his | offer, or at least sd. Nothing againstit; but p'p'ounded that hee would make | his sd soil a deede ofguift of that third p't of his land in England to enjoy to | himand his heires after his death. This hee was not free to doe, butsd. It was | as sure, for he had soe putt it into his will, thathis 3 sons should have | that in England equally devyded betwixtthem, vz. Each a 3 p't. I objected | he marry | againe and haveother children, wich hee thought a vaine obieccon. Much | othrdiscourse there was about the stocke on the Farme, &c. , butremayneing unwilling | to give a deede for that in England, sayinghe might live to spend it, and often | repeating hee had soeordered it in his will, as aforesd. , wch hee should never altrwithout | great necessity, or words to that purpose. Soe wee p'tedfor that tyme leaveing | that mattr to further consideracon. Afterhee came home hee told sev'all of my | Friends and others as theyinformed me, that hee had p'ffered to give his son Nathaniel bettrthen 1000 lb | and I would not accept of it. The next tyme heecame to my house, after some | discourse about the premises andp'esining his resolucon as form'ly ingaged, and left it to him toadd wt he pleased | towards the building of him a house &c. , andsoe agreed that the young p'sons might | p'ceede in marriage withboth or Consents, wch accordingly they did. S. BRADSTREET. "

"The Honble Simon Bradstreet Esqr | made Oath to the truth of theabove written Sept. 21th, 1683, before Samuell Nowell, Assistant. 

"The interlines [as aforesaid], line 19th, and [as they informedme] line 22th, were before the Oath was made. "

The brackets are in the original and were used as quotationsmarks. Governor Bradstreet's name and all above it are in hishandwriting; all below it is in Mr. Nowell's. 

Another Mercy Bradstreet, niece of the Mercy whose name figures inthe foregoing statement, and the daughter of the oldest son, married Dr. James Oliver, from whom are descended Dr. OliverWendell Holmes and Wendell Phillips, while Lucy, the daughter ofSimon, the second son, became the ancestress of Dr. Channing andof Richard N. Dana, the poet and his distinguished son. Many ofthe grandchildren died in infancy, and the pages of the secondedition of their grandmother's poems are sprinkled with elegieslong and short, upon the babies almost as well loved as her own, though none of them have any poetical merit. But her thoughtsdwelt chiefly in the world for which she longed, and there areconstant reminders of what careless hold she kept upon the lifewhich had come to be simply a burden to be borne with suchpatience as might be given her. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE END. 

Through all these later years Anne Bradstreet had made occasionalrecords, in which her many sicknesses find mention, though neverin any complaining fashion. 

Now and then, as in the following meditation, she wrote a pagefull of gratitude at the peace which became more and more assured, her doubting and self-distrustful spirit retaining more and morethe quietness often in early life denied her:

MEDITATIONS WHEN MY SOUL HATH BEEN REFRESHED WITH THE CONSOLATIONSWHICH THE WORLD KNOWES NOT. 

Lord, why should I doubt any more when thou hast given me suchassured Pledges of thy Love? First, thou art my Creator, I thycreature; thou my master, I thy servant. But hence arises not mycomfort: Thou art my ffather, I thy child. Yee shall [be] my Sonsand Daughters, saith the Lord Almighty. Christ is my brother; Iascend unto my ffather and your ffather, unto my God and your God. But least this should not be enough, thy maker is thy husband. Nay, more, I am a member of his Body; he, my head. SuchPriviledges, had not the Word of Truth made them known, who orwhere is the man that durst in his heart have presumed to havethought it? So wonderfull are these thoughts that my spirit failesin me at the consideration thereof; and I am confounded to thinkthat God, who hath done so much for me should have so little fromme. But this is my comfort, when I come into Heaven, I shallunderstand perfectly what he hath done for me, and then shall I beable to praise him as I ought. Lord, haveing this hope, let mepruefie myself as thou art Pure, and let me bee no more affraid ofDeath, but even desire to be dissolved, and bee with thee, whichis best of all. 

Of the same nature are the fragments of diary which follow:

July 8th, 1656. I had a sore fitt of fainting which lasted 2 or 3days, but not in that extremity which at first it took me, and somuch the sorer it was to me because my dear husband was from home(who is my chiefest comforter on Earth); but my God, who neverfailed me, was not absent, but helped me, and gratiouslymanifested his Love to me, which I dare not passe by withoutRemembrance, that it may be a support to me when I shall haveoccasion to read this hereafter, and to others that shall read itwhen I shall posesse that I now hope for, that so they may beeencourag'd to trust in him who is the only Portion of hisServants. 

O Lord, let me never forget thy Goodness, nor question thyfaithfulness to me, for thou art my God: Thou hast said and shallI not beleive it?

Thou hast given me a pledge of that Inheritance thou hast promisedto bestow upon me. O, never let Satan prevail against me, butstrengthen my faith in Thee 'till I shall attain the end of myhopes, even the Salvation of my Soul. Come, Lord Jesus; comequickly. 

 What God is like to him I serve, What Saviour like to mine? O, never let me from thee swerve, For truly I am thine. 

Sept. 30, 1657. It pleased God to viset me with my old Distemperof weakness and fainting, but not in that sore manner sometimes hehath. I desire not only willingly, but thankfully, to submitt tohim, for I trust it is out of his abundant Love to my strayingSoul which in prosperity is too much in love with the world. Ihave found by experience I can no more live without correctionthan without food. Lord, with thy correction give Instruction andamendment, and then thy strokes shall bee welcome. I have not beenrefined in the furnace of affliction as some have been, but haverather been preserved with sugar then brine, yet will He preserveme to His heavenly kingdom. 

Thus (dear children) have yee seen the many sicknesses andweaknesses that I have passed thro: to the end that, if you meetwith the like, you may have recourse to the same God who hathheard and delivered me, and will doe the like for you if you trustin him: and, when he shall deliver you out of distresse, forgetnot to give him thankes, but to walk more closely with himthen before. This is the desire of your Loving Mother, A. B. 

With this record came a time of comparative health, and it is nottill some years later that she finds it necessary to again writeof sharp physical suffering, this being the last reference made inher papers to her own condition:

May 11, 1661. It hath pleased God to give me a long Time ofrespite for these 4 years that I have had no great fitt ofsickness, but this year, from the middle of January 'till May, Ihave been by fitts very ill and weak. The first of this month Ihad a feaver seat'd upon me which, indeed, was the longest andsorest that ever I had, lasting 4 dayes, and the weather beingvery hott made it the more tedious, but it pleased the Lord tosupport my heart in his goodness, and to hear my Prayers, and todeliver me out of adversity. But alas! I cannot render unto theLord according to all his loving kindnes, nor take the cupsalvation with Thanksgiving as I ought to doe. Lord, Thou thatknowest All things, know'st that I desire to testefye mythankfulnes, not only in word, but in Deed, that my Conversationmay speak that thy vowes are upon me. 

The diary of "Religious Reflections" was written at this periodand holds a portrait of the devout and tender mind, sensitive andmorbidly conscientious, but full of an aspiration that never lefther. The few hints as to her early life are all embodied here, though the biographer is forced to work chiefly by inference:

 TO MY DEAR CHILDREN:

 This Book by Any yet unread, I leave for you when I am dead, That, being gone, here you may find What was your living mother's mind. Make use of what I leave in Love And God shall blesse you from above. A. B. 

MY DEAR CHILDREN: Knowing by experience that the exhortations ofparents take most effect when the speakers leave to speak, andthose especially sink deepest which are spoke latest--and beingignorant whether on my death-bed I shall have opportunity to speakto any of you, much lesse to All--thought it the best, whilst Iwas able to compose some short matters, (for what else to callthem I know not) and bequeath to you, that when I am no more withyou, yet I may bee dayly in your remembrance, (Although that isthe least in my aim in what I now doe) but that you may gain somespiritual Advantage by my experience. I have not studied in thisyou read to show my skill, but to declare the Truth---not to settforth myself, but the Glory of God. If I had minded the former, ithad been perhaps better pleasing to you, --but seing the last isthe best, let it bee best pleasing to you. The method I willobserve shall bee this--I will begin with God's dealing with mefrom my childhood to this Day. In my young years, about 6 or 7 asI take it, I began to make conscience of my wayes, and what I knewwas sinful, as lying, disobedience to Parents, &c. , I avoided it. If at any time I was overtaken with the like evills, it was agreat Trouble. I could not be at rest 'till by prayer I hadconfest it unto God. I was also troubled at the neglect of PrivateDutyes, tho: too often tardy that way. I also found much comfortin reading the Scriptures, especially those places I thought mostconcerned my Condition, and as I grew to have more understanding, so the more solace I took in them. 

In a long fitt of sicknes which I had on my bed I often communedwith my heart, and made my supplication to the most High who settme free from that affliction. 

But as I grew up to bee about 14 or 15 I found my heart morecarnall, and sitting loose from God, vanity and the follyes ofyouth take hold of me. About 16, the Lord layed his hand sore uponme and Smott mee with the small pox. When I was in my affliction, I besought the Lord, and confessed my Pride and Vanity and he wasentreated of me, and again restored me. But I rendered not to himaccording to the benefitt received. 

After a short time I changed my condition and was marryed, andcame into this Contry, where I fond a new world and new manners, at which my heart rose. But after I was convinced it was the wayof God, I submitted to it and joined to the church at Boston. 

After some time I fell into a lingering sicknes like a consumption, together with a lamenesse, which correction I saw the Lord sent tohumble and try me and doe mee Good: and it was not altogetherineffectual. 

It pleased God to keep me a long time without a child, which was agreat grief to me, and cost mee many prayers and tears before Iobtained one, and after him gave mee many more, of whom I now takethe care, that as I have broght you into the world, and with greatpaines, weaknes, cares, and feares, brought you to this, I nowtravail in birth again of you till Christ bee formed in you. 

Among all my experiences of God's gratious Dealings with me I haveconstantly observed this, that he hath never suffered me long tositt loose from him, but by one affliction or other hath made melook home, and search what was amisse so usually thos it hath beenwith me that I have no sooner felt my heart out of order, but Ihave expected correction for it, which most commonly hath beenupon my own person, in sicknesse, weaknes, paines, sometimes on mysoul, in Doubts and feares of God's displeasure, and my sinceritytowards him, sometimes he hath smott a child with sicknes, sometimes chastened by losses in estate, --and these Times (thro:his great mercy) have been the times of my greatest Getting andAdvantage, yea I have found them the Times when the Lord hathmanifested the most love to me. Then have I gone to searching, andhave said with David, Lord search me and try me, see what wayes ofwickednes are in me, and lead me in the way everlasting; andseldom or never, but I have found either some sin I lay underwhich God would have reformed, or some duty neglected which hewould have performed. And by his help I have layed Vowes and Bondsupon my Soul to perform his righteous commands. 

If at any time you are chastened of God, take it as thankfully andJoyfully as in greatest mercyes, for if yee bee his yee shall reapthe greatest benefit by it. It hath been no small support to me intimes of Darkness when the Almighty hath hid his face from me, that yet I have had abundance of sweetness and refreshment afteraffliction, and more circumspection in my walking after I havebeen afflicted. I have been with God like an untoward child, thatno longer than the rod has been on my back (or at least in sight)but I have been apt to forgett him and myself too. Before I wasafflicted I went astray, but now I keep thy statutes. 

I have had great experience of God's hearing my Prayers, andreturning comfortable Answers to me, either in granting the thingI prayed for, or else in satisfying my mind without it; and I havebeen confident it hath been from him, because I have found myheart through his goodnes enlarged in thankfullnes to him. 

I have often been perplexed that I have not found that constantJoy in my Pilgrim age and refreshing which I supposed most of theservants of God have; although he hath not left me altogetherwithout the wittnes of his holy spirit, who hath oft given mee hisword and sett to his Seal that it shall bee well with me. I havesometimes tasted of that hidden manna that the world knowes not, and have sett up my Ebenezer, and have resolved with myself thatagainst such a promise such taste of sweetnes, the Gates of Hellshall never prevail. Yet have I many times sinkings and droopings, and not enjoyed that felicity that sometimes I have done. But whenI have been in darknes and seen no light, yet have I desired tostay myself upon the Lord. And, when I have been in sicknes andpain, I have thought if the Lord would but lift up the light ofhis Countenance upon me, altho he ground me to powder, it wouldbee but light to me; yea, oft have I thought were if hell itself, and could there find the Love of God toward me, it would bee aHeaven. And, could I have been in Heaven without the Love of Godit would have been a Hell to me; for in Truth, it is the absenceand presence of God that makes Heaven or Hell. 

Many times hath Satan troubled me concerning the verity of theScriptures, many times by Atheisme how could I know whether therewas a God; I never saw any miracles to confirm me, and those whichI read of how did I know but they were feigned. That there is a Godmy Reason would soon tell me by the wondrous workes that I see, the vast frame of the Heaven and the Earth, the order of all things, night and day, Summer and Winter, Spring and Autumne, the daylyproviding for this great houshold upon the Earth, the preservingand directing of All to its proper end. The consideration ofthese things would with amazement certainly resolve me thatthere is an Eternall Being. 

But how should I know he is such a God as I worship in Trinity, and such a Savior as I rely upon? tho: this hath thousands oftimes been suggested to mee, yet God hath helped me ever. I haveargued this with myself. That there is a God I see. If ever thisGod hath revealed himself, it must bee in his word, and this mustbe it or none. Have I not found that operation by it that nohumane Invention can work upon the Soul? Hath not Judgmentsbefallen Diverse who have scorned and contemd it? Hath it not beenpreserved thro: all Ages mangre all the heathen Tyrants and all ofthe enemies who have opposed it? Is there any story but that whichshows the beginnings of Times, and how the world came to bee aswee see? Doe wee not know the prophecyes in it fullfilled whichcould not have been so long foretold by any but God himself? WhenI have gott over this Block, then have I another pott in my way, That admitt this bee the true God whom we worship, and that be hisword, yet why may not the Popish Religion bee the right? They havethe same God, the same Christ, the same word; they only interprettit one way, wee another. This hath sometimes stuck with me, andmore it would, but the vain fooleries that are in their Religion, together with their lying miracles and cruell persecutions of theSaints, which admitt were they as they terme them, yet not so tobe dealt with all. The consideration of these things and many thelike would soon turn me to my own Religion again. But some newTroubles I have had since the world has been filled withBlasphemy, and Sectaries, and some who have been accounted sincereChristians have been carryed away with them, that sometimes I havesaid, Is there ffaith upon the earth? and I have not known what tothink. But then I have remembered the words of Christ that so itmust bee, and that, if it were possible, the very elect should beedeceived. Behold, faith our Savior, I have told you before. Thathath stayed my heart, and I can now say, Return, O my Soul, to thyRest, upon this Rock Christ Jesus will I build my faith; and if Iperish, I perish. But I know all the Powers of Hell shall neverprevail against it. I know whom I have trusted, and whom I havebelieved, and that he is able to keep that I have committed to hischarge. Now to the King, Immortall, Eternall, and invisible, theonly wise God, bee Honor and Glory forever and ever! Amen. Thiswas written in much sicknesse and weakness, and is very weakly andimperfectly done; but, if you can pick any Benefitt out of it, itis the marke which I aimed at. 

For a few of the years that remained there were the alternationsto which she had long been accustomed, but with 1669 she hadbecome a hopeless and almost helpless invalid, longing to die, yetstill held by the intense vitality which must have been hercharacteristic, and which required three years more of wastingpain before the struggle could end. In August, of 1669, she hadwritten one of the most pathetic of her poems:

 Aug: 31, 69. 

 As weary pilgrim now at rest, Hugs with delight his silent nest His wasted limbes now lye full soft That myrie steps have trodden oft. Blesses himself to think upon his dangers past, and travails done. The burning sun no more shall heat Nor stormy raines on him shall beat. The bryars and thornes no more shall scratch, nor hungry wolves at him shall catch He erring pathes no more shall tread nor wilde fruits eate, instead of bread for waters cold he doth not long for thirst no more shall parch his tongue. No rugged stones his feet shall gaule, nor stumps nor rocks cause him to fall. All cares and feares, he bids farewell and meanes in safity now to dwell. A pilgrim I, on earth, perplext, Wth sinns wth cares and sorrovys vext By age and paines brought to decay. And my Clay house mouldring away Oh how I long to be at rest and soare on high among the blesst. This body shall in silence sleep Mine eyes no more shall ever weep No fainting fits shall me assaile nor grinding paines my body fraile Wth cares and fears n'er cumbred be Nor losses know, nor sorrows see What tho my flesh shall there consume it is the bed Christ did perfume And when a few yeares shall be gone this mortall shall be cloth'd upon A corrupt Carcasse ddwne it lyes A glorious body it shall rise In weakness and dishonour sowne in power 'tis rais'd by Christ alone When soule and body shall unite and of their maker have the sight Such lasting joyes shall there behold as care ne'r heard nor tongue e'er told Lord make me ready for that day then Come dear bridegrome, Come away. 

The long waiting ended at last, and her son, Simon Bradstreet, wrote in his diary:

"Sept. 16, 1672. My ever honoured & most clear Mother wastranslated to Heaven. Her death was occasioned by a consumptionbeing wasted to skin & bone & she had an issue made in her armbee: she was much troubled with rheum, & one of ye women yt tendedherr dressing her arm, s'd shee never saw such an arm in her Life, I, s'd my most dear Mother but yt shall bee a Glorious Arm. 

"I being absent fro her lost the opportunity of committing tomemory her pious & memorable xpressions uttered in her sicknesse. O yt the good Lord would give unto me and mine a heart to walk inher steps, considering what the end of her Conversation was, yt sowee might one day have a happy & glorious greeting. "

Dorothy, the wife of Seaborn Cotton and the namesake of hergrandmother, had died in February of the same year, making thefirst break in the family circle, which had been a singularlyunited one, the remainder all living to advanced years. Grief atthe loss had been softened by the certainty that separation couldnot last long, and in spite of the terror with which her creedfilled even the thought of death, suffering had made at last awelcome one. No other touch could bring healing or rest to theracked and weary body, and deeply as Simon Bradstreet mourned herloss, a weight rolled away, when the long suffering had ended. 

That the country-side thronged to the funeral of the woman whosename was honored in every New England settlement, we may know, butno record remains of ceremony, or sermon, or even of burial place. The old graveyard at Andover holds no stone that may perhaps havebeen hers, and it is believed that her father's tomb at Roxburymay have received the remains, that possibly she herself desiredshould lie by those of her mother. Sermons were preached in allthe principal churches, and funeral elegies, that dearest form ofthe Puritan muse, poured in, that by John Norton being the bestillustration of manner and method. 

 A FUNERAL ELOGY, _Upon that Pattern and Patron of Virtue, the truely pious, peerless matchless Gentlewoman_

 MRS. ANNE BRADSTREET, _right Panaretes, _

 _Mirror of her Age, Glory of her Sex, whose Heaven-born-Soul its earthly Shrine, chose its native home, and was taken to its Rest upon 16th Sept. 1672. _

 Ask not why hearts turn Magazines of passions, And why that grief is clad in several fashions; Why she on progress goes, and doth not borrow The small'st respite from the extreams of sorrow, Her misery is got to such an height, As makes the earth groan to support its weight, Such storms of woe, so strongly have beset her, She hath no place for worse, nor hope for better Her comfort is, if any for her be, That none can shew more cause of grief then she. Ask not why some in mournfull black are clad; The sun is set, there needs must be a shade. Ask not why every face a sadness shrowdes; The setting Sun ore-cast us hath with Clouds. Ask not why the great glory of the Skye That gilds the stars with heavenly Alchamy, Which all the world doth lighten with his Rayes, The _Persian_ God, the Monarch of the dayes; Ask not the reason of his extasie, Paleness of late, in midnoon Majesty, Why that the pale fac'd Empress of the night Disrob'd her brother of his glorious light. Did not the language of the stars foretel A mournfull Scoene when they with tears did Swell? Did not the glorious people of the Skye Seem sensible of future misery? Did not the low'ring heavens seem to express The worlds great lose and their unhappiness? Behold how tears flow from the learned hill, How the bereaved Nine do daily fill The bosom of the fleeting Air with groans, And wofull Accents, which witness their Moanes. How doe the Goddesses of verse, the learned quire Lament their rival Quill, which all admire? Could _Maro's_ Muse but hear her lively strain, He would condemn his works to fire again, Methinks I hear the Patron of the Spring, The unshorn Deity abruptly sing. Some doe for anguish weep, for anger I That Ignorance should live, and Art should die. Black, fatal, dismal, inauspicious day, Unblest forever by Sol's precious Ray, Be it the first of Miseries to all; Or last of Life, defam'd for Funeral. When this day yearly comes, let every one, Cast in their urne, the black and dismal stone, Succeeding years as they their circuit goe, Leap o'er this day, as a sad time of woe. Farewell my Muse, since thou hast left thy shrine, I am unblest in one, but blest in nine. Fair Thespian Ladyes, light your torches all, Attend your glory to its Funeral, To court her ashes with a learned tear, A briny sacrifice, let not a smile appear. 

 Grave Matron, whoso seeks to blazon thee, Needs not make use of witts false Heraldry; Whoso should give thee all thy worth would swell So high, as'twould turn the world infidel. Had he great _Maro's_ Muse, or Tully's tongue, Or raping numbers like the _Thracian_ Song, In crowning of her merits he would be Sumptuously poor, low in Hyperbole. To write is easy; but to write on thee, Truth would be thought to forfeit modesty. He'l seem a Poet that shall speak but true; Hyperbole's in others, are thy due. Like a most servile flatterer he will show Though he write truth, and make the Subject, You. Virtue ne'er dies, time will a Poet raise Born under better Stars, shall sing thy praise. Praise her who list, yet he shall be a debtor For Art ne're feigned, nor Nature fram'd a better. Her virtues were so great, that they do raise A work to trouble fame, astonish praise. When as her Name doth but salute the ear, Men think that they perfections abstract hear. Her breast was a brave Pallace, a Broad-street, Where all heroick ample thoughts did meet, Where nature such a Tenement had tane, That others Souls, to hers, dwelt in a lane. Beneath her feet, pale envy bites her chain, And poison Malice, whetts her sting in vain. Let every Laurel, every Myrtel bough Be stript for leaves t'adorn and load her brow. Victorious wreaths, which 'cause they never fade Wise elder times for Kings and Poets made Let not her happy Memory e're lack Its worth in Fame's eternal Almanack, Which none shall read, but straight their lots deplore, And blame their Fates they were not born before. Do not old men rejoyce their Fates did last, And infants too, that theirs did make such hast, In such a welcome time to bring them forth, That they might be a witness to her worth. Who undertakes this subject to commend Shall nothing find so hard as how to end. _Finis & Non, _ JOHN NORTON. 

Forty years of wedded life, and a devotion that remained unalteredto the end, inclined Simon Bradstreet to a longer period ofmourning than most Puritan husbands seemed to have submitted to, but four years after her death, the husband, at seventy-three, still as hale and well-preserved as many a man of fifty, took tohimself another wife. 

She was the widow of Captain Joseph Gardner of Salem, killed inthe attack on the Narragansett fort in December, 1675, and isdescribed by her step-son Simon, in his diary as "a Gentl. Of verygood birth and education, and of great piety and prudence. " Of herprudence there could hardly be a doubt, for as daughter and sisterof Emanuel and George Downing, she had had before her through allher early years, examples of shrewdness and farsightedness for allpersonal ends, that made the names of both, an offence then and inlater days. But no suspicion of the tendencies strong in bothfather and son, ever rested on Mistress Gardner, who was bothproud and fond of her elderly husband, and who found him as tenderand thoughtful a friend as he had always been to the wife of hisyouth. For twenty-one years he passed from honor to honor in theColony, living in much state, though personally always abstemiousand restrained, and growing continually in the mildness andtoleration, from which his contemporaries more and more diverged. Clear-sighted, and far in advance of his time, his moderationhindered any chafing or discontent, and his days, even when mostabsorbed in public interests, held a rare severity and calm. Noact of all Bradstreet's life brought him more public honors thanhis action against Andros, whose tyranny had roused every man inNew England to protest and revolt. Almost ninety years old, he metthe deputation who came to consult him, and set his hand to aletter, which held the same possibilities and was in many senses, the first Declaration of Independence. From the Town House inBoston went out the handbill, printed in black letter and signedby fifteen names, the old patriarch heading the list. Bancroft, who is seldom enthusiastic, tells the story of the demandupon Andros of immediate surrender of the government andfortifications, and the determination of the passionate andgrasping soldier to resist. 

"Just then the Governor of the Colony, in office when the charterwas abrogated, Simon Bradstreet, glorious with the dignity offour-score years and seven, one of the early emigrants, amagistrate in 1630, whose experience connected the oldestgeneration with the new, drew near the town-house, and wasreceived with a great shout from the free men. The old magistrateswere reinstated, as a council of safety; the whole town rose inarms, with the most unanimous resolution that ever inspired apeople; and a declaration read from the balcony, defending theinsurrection as a duty to God and the country. 'We commit ourenterprise, ' it is added, 'to Him who hears the cry of theoppressed, and advise all our neighbors, for whom we have thusventured ourselves, to joyn with us in prayers and all justactions for the defence of the land. ' On Charlestown side, a thousandsoldiers crowded together; and the multitude would have beenlonger if needed. The governor vainly attempting to escape to thefrigate was, with his creatures, compelled to seek protection bysubmission; through the streets where he had first displayed hisscarlet coat and arbitrary commission, he and his fellows weremarched to the town-house and thence to prison. All the cry wasagainst Andros and Randolph. The castle was taken; the frigate wasmastered; the fortifications occupied. "

Once more Massachusetts assembled in general court, and the oldman, whose blood could still tingle at wrong, was called again tothe chair of state, filling it till the end of all work camesuddenly, and he passed on, leaving a memory almost as tenderlypreserved as that of "the beloved governor, " John Winthrop. 

In the ancient burial place at Salem may still be seen the tomb ofthe old man who had known over sixty years of public service. 

 SIMON BRADSTREET. 

 Armiger, exordine Senatoris, in colonia Massachusettensi ab anno 1630, usque ad anum 1673. Deinde ad anum 1679, Vice-Gubernator. Denique ad anum 1686, ejusdem coloniae, communi et constanti populi suffragio, Gubernator. Vis, judicio Lynceario preditus; guem nec numma, nec honos allexit. Regis authoritatem, et populi libertatem, aequa lance libravit. Religione cerdatus, vita innocuus, mundum et vicit, et deseriut, 27 die, Martii, A. D. 1697. Annog, Guliel, 3t ix, et Aet, 94. 

Few epitaphs hold as simple truth. "He was a man, " says Felt, "ofdeep discernment, whom neither wealth nor honor could allure fromduty. He poised with an equal balance the authority of the King, and the liberty of the people. Sincere in Religion and pure in hislife, he overcame and left the world. "

The Assembly was in session on the day of his death and, "inconsideration of the long and extraordinary service of SimonBradstreet, late Governor, voted L100, toward defraying thecharges of his interment. "

They buried him in Salem where his tomb may still be seen in theold Charter Street burying-ground, though there is grave doubt ifeven the dust of its occupant could be found therein. His memoryhad passed, and his services meant little to the generation whicha hundred years later, saw one of the most curious transactions ofthe year 1794. That an ancestor of Nathanael Hawthorne should havebeen a party to it, holds a suggestion of the tendencies which inthe novelist's case, gave him that interest in the sombre side oflife, and the relish for the somewhat ghoul-like details, onwhich he lingered with a fascination his readers are compelled toshare. On an old paper still owned by a gentleman of Salem, onemay read this catastrophe which has, in spite of court orderingsand stately municipal burial, forced Simon Bradstreet's remainsinto the same obscurity which hides those of his wife. 

"Ben, son of Col B. Pickman, sold ye tomb, being claimed by himfor a small expence his father was at in repairing it aft ye yr1793 Or 1794 to one Daniel Hathorne, who now holds it. " Havingtaken possession, Daniel Hawthorne, with no further scruplescleaned out the tomb, throwing the remains of the old Governor andhis family into a hole not far off. The New England of SimonBradstreet's day is as utterly lost as his own dust. Yet many ofthe outward forms still remain, while its spirit is even moreevident and powerful. 

Wherever the New England element is found--and where is it notfound?--its presence means thrift, thoroughness, precision andprudence. Every circumstance of life from the beginning has taughtthe people how to extract the utmost value from every resource. Dollars have come slowly and painfully, and have thus, in onesense, a fictitious worth; but penuriousness is almost unknown, and the hardest working man or woman gives freely where a need isreally felt. The ideal is still for the many, more powerful thanthe real. The conscientiousness and painful self-consciousness ofthe early days still represses the joyful or peaceful side oflife, and makes angles more to be desired than curves. Reticenceis the New England habit. Affection, intense as it may be, givesand demands small expression. Good-will must be taken for granted, and little courtesies and ameliorations in daily life are treatedwith disdain. "Duty" is the watchword for most, and no matter howstrange the path, if this word be lined above it, it is troddenunquestioned. 

As in the beginning, the corner-stone still "rests upon a book. "The eagerness for knowledge shown in every act of the earlycolonial years has intensified, till "to know" has become a demondriving one to destruction. Eternity would seem to have beenabolished, so eager are the learners to use every second of time. Overwork, mental and physical, has been the portion of the NewEngland woman from the beginning. Climate and all naturalconditions fostered an alertness unknown to the moist and equableair of the old home. While for the South there was a longperpetuation of the ease of English life, and the adjective whicha Southern woman most desires to hear before her name is "sweet";the New England woman chooses "bright, " and the highest mark ofapproval is found in that rather aggressive word. Tin pans, scoured to that point of polish which meets the New Englandnecessity for thoroughness, are "bright, " and the near observerblinks as he suddenly comes upon them in the sun. A bit oflooking-glass handled judiciously by the small boy, has the samequality, and is warranted to disconcert the most placidtemperament; and so the New England woman is apt to have jaggededges and a sense of too much light for the situation. "Sweetnessand light" is the desirable combination, and may come in the newunion of North and South. The wise woman is she who best unitesthe two. Yet, arraign New England as we may--and there are manyunmentioned counts in the indictment--it is certain that to her weowe the best elements in our national life. "The Decadence of NewEngland" is a popular topic at present. It is the fashion to sneerat her limitations. Our best novelists delight in giving herbarrenness, her unloveliness in all individual life--herprovincialism and conceit, and strenuous money-getting. 

"It is a good place to be born in, " they say, "provided youemigrate early, " and then they proceed to analyze her veryprominent weaknesses, and to suppress as carefully as possiblejust judgment, either of past or present. Her scenery they cannotdispense with. Her very inadequacies and absurdities of climateinvolve a beauty which unites Northern sharpness of outline withSouthern grace of form and color. The short and fervid summer ownscharms denied a longer one. Spring comes uncertainly andlingeringly, but it holds in many of its days an exquisite andbrooding tenderness no words can render, as elusive as that half-defined outline on budding twigs against the sky--not leaves, butthe shadow and promise of leaves to be. The turf of the highpasture-lands springing under the foot; the smell of sweet fernand brake; the tinkle of cow-bells among the rocks, or the softpatter of feet as the sheep run toward the open bars--what NewEngland boy or girl does not remember and love, till loving andremembering are over for the life we live here? Yet in all theferment of old and new beliefs--the strange departures from abeaten track--the attitude always, not of those who have found, but of those who seek, there has ever been the promise of a betterday. The pathos which underlies all record of human life is madeplain, and a tender sadness is in the happiest lines. And this isthe real story of New England. Her best has passed on. What thefuture holds for her it is impossible to say, or what strangedevelopment may come from this sudden and overmastering Celticelement, pervading even the remotest hill-towns. But onepossession remains intact: the old graveyards where the worthiesof an elder day sleep quietly under stones decaying and crumblingfaster than their memories. It all comes to dust in the end, buteven dust holds promise. Growth is in every particle, and whatevertime may bring--for the past it is a flower that "smells sweet andblossoms in the dust"--for present and future, a steady marchtoward the better day, whose twilight is our sunshine. 

INDEX. 

 Agawam Andover, Mass. Andros, Governor Arbella, the Bay Psalm Book Belcher, Governor Berkeley, Sir William Bibles, Geneva Blaxton, Rev. Mr. Bradford, William Bradstreet, Simon " Anne " Dorothy " Dudley " Hannah " John " Mercy " Sarah " Simon, Jr. Buchanan, Mr. Cage for Offenders Cambridge, Mass. " Synod of Cattle keeping Charlestown, Mass Chapman, Version of Homer Church Music Chests, Family Clapp, Roger Compton, William, Lord Coddington, Rev. Mr Cotton, John " Seaborn Contemplations, a Poem Cromwell, Oliver Criticism, Personal Dennison, Daniel Digby, Sir Kenelm Dodd, Puritan minister Downing, Emanual Drinking Customs Dryden, John " Erasmus Du Bartas Dunkirkers Dudley, Anne " Dorothy " John " Joseph " Paul " Robert " Roger " Thomas " Samuel Education in New England Eliot, Rev. John Elizabeth, Queen Endicott, Rev. John Fire, in Andover Firmin, Giles Folger, Peter Food in New England Four Ages of Man, (poem) Four Elements, The, (poem) Four Humours of Man, (poem) Four Monarchies, (poem) Four Seasons, (poem) Fulling Mill Furniture, Colonial Galton Gardener, Capt. Joseph Goffe, Thomas Grandmothers, Puritan Harvard College Hathorn, Daniel " William Hawthorne, Nathanael Harvey, Discovery of Circulation of the Blood Higginson, Rev. Francis Hospitality in New England Hooker, Rev. Thomas Holmes, Oliver Wendell House-lots Homes, Nonconformist Hutchinson, Anne " Colonel " Mrs. Lucy Hurlstone, Mr. Hubbard Hunting Indians Inns Ipswich, Mass Jamestown, Va. Johnson, Lady Arbella " Isaac " Rev. Mr. Labor, Scarcity of Lempingham, Castle of Laud, Bishop Law in the Colony Libertines Light, the Inward Lincoln, Earl of Lowe, Rev. Mr. Marbury, Thomas Marriage Masson's Life of Milton Mansell, Mt. Mather, Cotton Medical Profession in Mass. Meditations, Divine and Moral Michaud Milton, John Montaigne, Essays of New England Nonconformists Northumberland, Duke of Norton, John Nowell, Rev. Mr. Pareus, David Parker, Thomas Pemble, William Peters, Hugh Phipps, Sir William Pearce, William Pewter Plate Pelham Players Poems, Anne Bradstreet's Poets, American Poole, Mrs. Elizabeth Preston, Dr. Puritan Puritanism Quarles, the Emblems of Quakers in New England Renascence Revolution, a Spiritual Religious Reflections Road-making Robinson, Rev. John Rogers, John Rupert, Prince Ruskin, John Russ, Goodman and Goodwife Salem Saltonstall, Sir Robert Schools, Andover " New England Servants, English " Indian