Mistress Bradstreet

by Charlotte Gordon

  Fortunately, Southampton was a deep-water port and so even the enormous Arbella could be brought right up to the quay, where it was hard labor filling the hold with enough supplies for three hundred people, both for the voyage and for their first months in New England: ten thousand gallons of beer, thirty-five hundred gallons of water, fifteen thousand biscuits “of the coarser sort,” five thousand white biscuits made from “sweet and good wheat, well baked according to the patterns delivered,” two hogsheads of rusks, and hundreds of barrels of salted cod, pork, and beef, and peas, oatmeal, and flour. To spice up this dull fare, there were eleven firkins of butter, one cask of salt, a bushel and a half of mustard seed, vinegar, and one hundred pounds of suet. Sadly, though everyone knew that scurvy was a real danger, it was too expensive to invest in limes and lemons, and none of these valuable citrus fruits were onboard. As a result, many of the emigrants had to rely on concoctions of their own to ward off this dread disease of sea travelers, though none of them worked. Many would arrive in the New World weakened by illness and would perish when they encountered the fresh privations of the wilderness.7

  Although the Arbella was destined to carry mostly human passengers, the colonists were intent on bringing livestock to America, and so before long the noise at the dock was compounded by the squeal of pigs and the lowing of the cows, who gazed helplessly ahead as ropes were cinched around their bellies and they were swung onto the holding deck of the Talbot. There they munched through the fodder that the emigrants hoped would last the length of the journey. In addition, families like the Dudleys and the Bradstreets were rich enough to try to bring as much of their favorite furniture as possible; chests, bedsteads, writing desks, elaborately carved chairs, tables, and many boxes of books cluttered the docks before they, too, disappeared into the dark mouth of the ship’s hold.

  The bustle at the water’s edge and the general disarray of the port alarmed many of the Puritans, who felt that such lack of organization did not bode well for their journey. “Godliness” lay in the details, according to their way of thinking, and one such traveler was dismayed to find “things very unready” and lying in disordered heaps here and there.” On the other hand, some years later the famously devout minister Edward Taylor forgot to say morning prayers because he “found the sailors’ activity with ropes and canvas so absorbing.” Rapidly, it became clear to Anne and her family that no hasty departure would be possible. In fact, over the course of the Great Migration, some passengers experienced delays of three months or more before they were ready to sail. Not only were these periods of waiting difficult to endure, but they were also expensive. There were lodgings to pay for and the constant worry that the food supplies would spoil or get eaten up long before the pilgrims actually boarded the ship.8

  Equally worrying were the shouts and curses of the sailors, since these were the uncouth individuals they would have to rely on for the next dangerous months. The ropes, hooks, and other equipment were also intimidating, causing the travelers to confront, for the first time, their own lack of expertise when it came to seafaring. Anne’s father could navigate the courts in London, and he had bartered goods, raised funds, ordered supplies, bought materials, and come up with a sound business plan for colonization, but now it was clear that he and Winthrop were the naive ones. No Puritan leader could steer a boat, gauge a current, measure the depth of the water, or tell one star from another, and so the brethren would have to depend on the profane to ferry them across the ocean.

  Surprisingly, their vulnerability failed to trouble either Winthrop or Dudley. From the Puritan point of view, a lack of nautical prowess gave them a fine opportunity to exercise their faith.9 It would not be the sailors’ knowledge that would transport them safely across the sea, Puritan ministers argued, but rather God’s providence and their own vigilant prayers. When he finally made the decision to leave England, John Cotton would bravely assert that “the safety of mariners’ and passengers’ lives . . . lieth not on ropes and cables . . . but in the name and hand of the lord.”10

  Winthrop and Dudley’s leadership would therefore remain unchallenged by the superior knowledge of any sea captain. This attitude was, to Anne, a disturbing reminder of the importance of piety. If arrival in America depended largely on faith, she would have to find a way to conquer what she saw as her spiritual weakness. Otherwise, like Jonah, she might be the ill-starred passenger who brought furious storms down upon their heads.

  There was plenty of time to brood about honing her spiritual rectitude as the days in Southampton stretched into weeks, but fortunately for Anne’s sanity, there were many distractions from her anxieties. At meals and during prayers, Anne began to get to know her compatriots from other parts of the country. There was a certain comfort in sizing up the strength of the Puritan community, for the gatherings of these men and women had both a festive and a momentous feel. Together at last, they spoke of their dreams for the New World. They had been selected by God for a special mission, and at times like these it was exhilarating to be a member of a blessed community.

  In forging new friendships with men and women from Norfolk, London, and the west counties, however, it soon became clear, to Anne’s consternation, that there was not just one brand of Puritanism. The “godly” from southeast Essex and the Stour Valley had different beliefs and customs from Anne’s family’s.11 Some thought they should completely disavow the English church. Others were not so willing to jettison Anglican worship traditions.

  Even worse, some of the roughnecks who milled about the port were non-Puritan artisans and skilled laborers whom Dudley and Winthrop had allowed to sign on for the voyage because they needed their services. Instead of bidding farewell to scoundrels forever, as Anne and her family had hoped, they would actually be importing many ruffians to the New World. These individuals were primarily men with technical expertise that would be useful to the colonists, but there was also a sizable group of unregenerates who had been hired at the last minute as servants. Hoping to escape unpleasant conditions at home—from debts to prison sentences—they had little use for their solemn, dream-filled fellow travelers and chose to devote their last nights in England to revelry, “wenching,” and frequenting alehouses, before such opportunities were out of their reach, perhaps forever.12

  Winthrop and Dudley took heed of this delinquency and began to debate a question that would ultimately divide the two men when they arrived in America. How would they manage these impious folk once they were under way? Dudley argued that they should wield a stern regulative hand. Winthrop held a more moderate viewpoint but seems to have been persuaded at first by Dudley’s insistence that there was no room for disobedience, nor for the weak of heart, especially on shipboard.

  During this time of uncertainty, pious travelers desperately turned to fasts, prayers, Bible study, and a careful examination of all the omens to try to predict when their journey would begin and how it would end. Anne and her family were careful not to fall in with the superstitious practices of the sailors, who, as Cotton Mather would report many years later, were “afraid of sailing on such or such a day because ’tis an unlucky day,” or who were prone “to practice rites of sorcery.”13 Still it was tempting to search for answers in the sudden spoiling of milk, the entrails of a dead animal, or the appearance of magpies jostling each other in the trees, and some of the devout sought out astrologers before they boarded the ship. Even the Puritans could not completely shake their dependence on folk traditions and necromancy.14

  At last, though, there came a great sign. It was mid-March, and their disapproval of holidays notwithstanding, the Puritans knew Easter week was fast approaching. Good Friday would dawn on the morning of March 26, and the thoughts of the travelers turned to Christ’s suffering on the cross. While they were in the midst of such sober contemplations, John Cotton surprised his parishioners by riding into town. Anne, like all of her fellows, was overjoyed by his arrival. The charismatic minister must have suspected that the lilies’ spirits were flagging
and had come to speed them on their way.

  This was an especially gallant gesture, as Cotton was actually struggling with the beginnings of a fever that would fell him for more than a year and would ultimately strike his beloved wife, causing her to die an anguished, heartbreaking death. Yet he preached as soon as he arrived, delivering a rousing sermon that energized the emigrants.15 He referred to those touchstones of Puritan faith, the Protestant martyrs under Bloody Mary, comparing the journey to New England with the flight of the faithful from England during Mary’s reign of Catholic terror. He also cited a famous text, “I will appoint a place for my people Israel, and will plant it, that they may dwell in a place of their own, and move no more,” declaring, in effect, that his flock was indeed a chosen people following the commandment of the Lord and that America was destined to be their land for eternity.16

  Such language was both thrilling and reassuring to those like Anne who were fearful. Cotton went on to remind them that they must not forget old England when they arrived and should not surrender their English ways. Even if they never returned home, Cotton assured them, the emigrants would remain the offspring of the Old World, comforting those who were worried that if they left their native country behind, they might turn into savages.17

  The idea that America had been designated by God for their use was supported, in Puritan eyes, by compelling information that had trickled back overseas from the Pilgrims and the scattered traders north of Cape Cod. The coastal Indians, who had been plentiful only ten years before, had been reduced to almost a third of their original population and were still greatly weakened from the virulent diseases imported to America by the English. The Puritans had their own interpretation of what the “miraculous” devastation meant: Clearly, God had providentially wiped the shores of New England clean to make room for them and for a new, reformed England. As Cotton declared, the Lord had “given” the Puritans “the land by promise.”18

  It was an easy next step, then, for the Puritan leaders to proclaim that their arrival in America would be a blessing for the Indians, since they brought with them the Gospel of the Lord. Cotton declared that their duty was to make “the poor natives . . . partakers” of Puritanism and even wondered if this was the reason God had “reared this whole plantation.”19 But the idea of converting the Indians remained an afterthought for most of the Puritans, although there were some notable exceptions, such as one of the original planners, Roger Williams, who would devote himself to bringing Jesus to the natives.

  The last formal words of encouragement the passengers heard before they embarked were most likely Winthrop’s.20 The governor stood before the entire group (including those non-Puritans who could be corralled into attendance) and delivered what would become one of the most famous sermons of all time, “A Model of Christian Charity.”21

  Winthrop’s address sounds as though he was somehow able to predict the complaints, laments, and quarrels that would soon ensue. There should be no “repining,” no “grudging,” and no “reproaching,” he declared. The colonists had to love one another as true Christians and employ “cheerfulness in serving and suffering together.” Only then could they avoid “shipwrack,” for just as they were joined together by a covenant to support one another, they were also united to God through such an agreement. Like the lawyer he was, Winthrop argued that the emigrants needed to hold up their end of the bargain. Only then would God fulfill the terms of the contract:

  Now if the Lord shall . . . bring us in peace to the place we desire, then hath he ratified this covenant. . . . But if we shall fail to embrace this present world and prosecute our carnal intentions, seeking great things for ourselves and our posterity, the Lord will surely break out in wrath against us, be revenged of such a perjured people, and make us know the price of the breach of such a covenant.22

  The world was watching them to see if they would take a misstep; in his most frequently quoted words, Winthrop declared that they were as visible “as a city upon a hill.”23 Although the lack of interest most English people had evinced over their departure suggested otherwise, Winthrop told his listeners that their collapse would be a notorious and famous event, one that would shame the international effort of all Reformers to change the church into a holier institution.

  Anne had no difficulty understanding Winthrop’s message. The pressure was on. If she fell, others would fall. If their mission failed, they would let the entire world down. Dudley and Winthrop were like Aaron and Moses—the two captains of the Jewish exodus from Egypt—and as Dudley’s daughter, she would have to elevate her actions immediately to live up to this kind of biblical heroism.

  After Cotton and Winthrop had delivered their sermons, Dudley received the happy news that at long last the Arbella was ready to sail as soon as the weather was in their favor. The Talbot,Jewel, and Ambrose were also standing at anchor, and Captain Milbourne felt that these were enough vessels to ensure a safe passage. It was important to travel in a convoy owing to piracy on the open seas, even though everyone knew it was inevitable that they would become separated at some point during the journey.

  The moment seemed particularly propitious. While the town of Southampton plunged into the celebrations of Easter week, Arbella and Isaac joined the Dudleys and Bradstreets in rejoicing at the synchronicity of events. There was, after all, a remarkable parallel between the church calendar and the timing of their own departure. On the night before His crucifixion, Christ had celebrated Passover, the commemoration of the flight from the Pharaoh, and now they were waiting for a “wind fair to the north” to begin their own pilgrimage, one that they hoped would lead them toward redemption.24 And so, with Simon, her sisters and brother, Dorothy, and the Lady Arbella and Isaac, Anne gathered up her baskets and blankets and sallied forth to the docks to board ship.

  But the women’s resolve was shaken when they ventured below to set up housekeeping. No one knew exactly how long they would have to consider the crowded ship their unsteady home, and the estimates were not promising: at least eight or nine weeks. Some later crossings would take as long as four months thanks to storms, variable winds, and navigation mistakes. The sight of their quarters was shocking, especially to these gently bred passengers, who were used to their own chambers and to the rambling halls of aristocratic homes. On the Arbella, they would be cramped together in an open, undefined space, rather like a large parish hall or a small barn. Anne, her mother and sisters, a few of the other “gentlewomen,” and the Lady Arbella would have a private sleeping berth in a separate compartment, but such an accommodation would only have been large enough for the beds the ladies would have to share, and certainly the thin partition would not block out the noise and smells of the rest of the travelers, who would be sleeping, eating, cooking, talking, praying, vomiting, defecating, and even copulating in the crowded space beyond.

  According to Winthrop’s journal, during their first hours onboard, many of the women wept and prayed in scenes of “bowel-breaking affections.”25 Certainly, there were plenty of reasons for everyone to cry: They were leaving their homes; they might drown in the watery deep, be assaulted by pirates, or die of misery in New England. The devout onboard understood that they were delivering their lives into the hands of the “Lord of sea and land” and that the journey ahead was a test of their sinful natures. Under such circumstances, those who were not afraid were not truly God-fearing folk, or so Anne and her friends believed.

  The idea that it was correct to weep and sigh upon departure was shared by most Puritan emigrants. For example, Thomas Shepard reported that he spent a good deal of time loudly “lamenting the loss of our native country.”26 Visible grief helped prove the point of the Puritans’ self-sacrifice. Not that their tears were a ploy, but if they cried loudly and publicly enough, their virtue could be more easily established by all who witnessed their sadness. For Anne it must have been a relief to have a sanctioned time and place to vent her sorrow at leaving England.

  Even Dudley, Winthrop, and the other
leaders of the company who attempted to comfort their wives and daughters could not refrain from tears. Winthrop was heartbroken to be leaving his wife and small children behind and sobbed at the thought of never seeing them again.27

  When the sailors began to hoist the sails and haul up the anchor, notch by notch, the passengers barely noticed. It was not until the entry planks were thrown aboard and stacked onto the top deck, the great flap of the canvas began to fill with wind, and the shouts of the men drowned out their cries that Anne, her friends, and family realized what was happening. At last the Arbella, closely followed by her three companion vessels, was off, charting a course through Southampton Water, the river that emptied out into The Solent, and then unfurling her sails when she reached the wide channel that led to the open sea. In a matter of hours they arrived at the Isle of Wight. It was Easter Sunday, March 27, 1630, and their pilgrimage had begun.

  Chapter Eight

  The Crossing

  He that is to sail into a far country, although the ship, cabin, and provision be all convenient and comfortable for him, yet he hath no desire to make that his place of residence.

  — ANNE BRADSTREET, “Meditation 53”

  THE NEXT DAY SEEMED to bode well for the beginning of this momentous voyage to America. The wind was from the north, and the four ships enjoyed a brisk sail to Yarmouth with the lines stretched tight and the spray kicking up a fine white trail behind them. As they neared the town, Dudley and the others were surprised to catch sight of a weary-looking ship, the Plantation, at anchor after limping home from Virginia. The safe return of this vessel seemed like yet another good omen for their own journey, and immediately they lowered their sails, came to a rest, and “saluted” the other ship by firing a shot from their cannon. The Plantation returned the signal, and to the great excitement of Anne and her family, the vessel’s captain, a Mr. Graves, rowed over to the Arbella and stayed to talk for most of the afternoon.1