Mrs. Bradstreet was born in England in 1612, the daughter of Thomas Dudley. At the age of sixteen, she married Simon Bradstreet, and with him and her father came to the New World in 1630. Bradstreet was destined to become governor of the colony, but this was many years later, after the death of his wife. He had a farm in Andover, and Mrs. Bradstreet shared to the full the hardships of pioneer days as a farmer's wife. It was at Andover that her eight children were born. Add to the care of her family and household the fact that she suffered from considerable ill-health, and one is filled with amazement that a woman so situated ever wrote a line.

It is common enough for authors to protest that they had not intended to publish their books; but in Mrs. Bradstreet's case this was a fact. Apparently she had allowed her poems to circulate among her friends, and her brother-in-law, going to England, obtained possession of the manuscripts and had them published in London. In the preface which he wrote, he says that he fears the displeasure of no one except the author, without whose knowledge he was acting. After admitting that the reader would not believe it is possible a woman should have done so excellently, he gives this pleasant characterization of her:

It is the work of a woman, honored and esteemed where she lives for her gracious demeanor, her eminent parts, her pious conversation, her courteous disposition, her exact diligence in her place, and diccreet managing of her family occasions; and more than so, these poems are the fruit of but some few hours curtailed from sleep and other refreshments. 1

The editor, hoping perhaps to turn aside any disapproval of his act, secured introductory verses from several friends, in which they praise the author; but the pleasure of receiving such praise must have been lessened by their derogatory comments regarding the usual efforts of women. They might have sought some other way of complimenting Mrs. Bradstreet, had they read more carefully the following lines, in a poem addressed to Queen Elizabeth:

2

"Nay say, have women worth, or have they none?
Or had they some, but with our queen it's 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."

Many of Mrs. Bradstreet's poems testify that her brother-in-law's characterization of her was justified. Several addressed to her husband breathe the most devoted love. Take these lines for example: 3

1 Bradstreet, p. 3.

2 Ibid., p. 241. • Ibid., p. 270.

"If ever two were one, then surely we,
If ever man was loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if

ye can."

The references to her children are no less affectionate. In a letter written to them, to be read after her death, she says:

It pleased God to keep me a long time without a child, which was a great grief to me, and cost me many prayers and tears before I obtained one.

Nor was she indifferent to the household cares and pleasures which fill so large a place in the life of the ordinary woman. Few lines that she wrote will appeal more strongly to the feminine heart than these from a poem regarding the burning of her house in 1666: 2

"Here stood that trunk, and there that chest;
There lay that store I counted best;

My pleasant things in ashes lie,
And them behold no more shall I.
Under thy roof no guest shall sit,
Nor at thy table eat a bit;

"No pleasant tale shall e'er be told,
Nor things recounted done of old;
No candle e'er shall shine in thee,
Nor bridegroom's voice e'er heard shall be.
In silence shalt thou ever lie.

Adieu, adieu; all's vanity."

1 Bradstreet, p. 315.

2 Ibid., p. 344.