William Bradford, as Author, Man, and Statesman
[In this excerpt, published only a few decades after the discovery of the Bradford manuscript, Blaxland offers one of the earliest scholarly discussions of Bradford's Of Plymouth Plantation. Blaxland considers Bradford's style and influences, and attempts to show a deep connection between Bradford the individual and Bradford the historian.]
In the History of Plymouth Plantation we have William Bradford presented to us in the aspect of author, autobiographer, and historian. Of course the History is the chief, indeed the only consciously undertaken object of his writing. And as a history, from the importance of the events he chronicles and from his unique relation to them, as well as from its own intrinsic merit, his work is beyond price. But a history of events so essentially connected with his name and influence, of which it was so true, though he would never have said it, quorum pars magna fui, becomes an involuntary autobiography. It was not his desire to pose before the world. On the contrary, he keeps himself severely in the background, and hardly ever permits himself to appear in the story except under the impersonal designation of the “Governor.” Hardly an allusion personal to himself occurs, except in some annotations made later in life. But this reticence both in what he tells us, and in what he keeps to himself, is strongly characteristic, and adds another expressive, though unconscious, touch to the autobiographical portrait. As an author, his conception and treatment of his subject, his style, language, and, not least, handwriting itself, have all a high degree of literary interest as specimens of the English of the time, and of the culture attained by a man of the people. But there is an interest deeper still in tracing the character of the man in the style of the author, even as the man himself is formed by the history which he relates.
Governor Bradford's manuscript is a large quarto of some 280 pages, written for the most part on one side of the paper only, though in some parts the History covers both sides; and some of the blank pages are used for additional notes written by Bradford himself at a later period, and for a few subsequent annotations by Mr. Thomas Prince, who used the work for his “New England Chronology.” There are a few straggling entries of facts, relating to the later history of the book, written on the outer leaves. The first few pages are used by Bradford as a note-book for his Hebrew Studies. The History occupies 270 pages, and is followed by an Appendix giving a record of the persons who came over in the first ship, written in 1650. Against Bradford's own name someone has written “who dyed 9th of May 1658,” and has also added a few notes as to survivors of the first party as late as 1698. The volume is bound in white vellum like an account-book, and is somewhat discoloured.
The History itself is written in handwriting of singular clearness (the letters all formed separately), suggestive of unwearied patience and conscientiousness. In some places it is minute and close, with 59 lines of, on an average, 16 words to the line, in a column of 10 × 7 in., every letter formed with a distinctness as perfect as that of printing. On other pages the writing is larger and less regular. The work falls into two divisions. The first part consists of an introductory chapter, leading to the story of the flight to Leyden and of the subsequent history of the Pilgrims, up to the point of their discovery and occupation of New Plymouth. With their establishment in their new home the writer begins his second book, prefacing it with these words:
The rest of this history (If God give me life, and opportunitie) I shall for brevitie sake, handle by way of annalls, noteing only the heads of principall things and passages as they fell in order of time; and may seeme to be profitable to know, or to make use of. And this may be as ye 2 booke.
But, though the history is thenceforward recorded “by way of annalls,” there is evidence to show that it was actually written in its present form at a later period and all together. As Mr. Doyle has lately pointed out,1 the state of preservation and cleanness of the paper are incompatible with a course of entries continued during a period of thirty years. The author, moreover, himself states that “these scribbled writings” were begun “about ye year 1630, and so peeced up at times of leasure afterwards.” But these “scribbled writings” seem to have been only the notes from which the History was afterwards compiled. As early as the fifty-seventh page, in the record of the year 1620, we are informed that the peace with Massasoyt “hath now continued this twenty-four years,” which brings us at least to the year 1644 as the time of writing. Some additional notes on the blank pages are dated 1646. The last entry relates to the year 1646, and records that Mr. Winslow went to England in that year, and “hath now bene absente this 4 years,” i.e. until 1650. The heading for the years 1647 and 1648 is written, though no record follows. The Appendix is distinctly dated 1650. We are justified, therefore, in regarding the history as the work of Bradford's later years, written in the maturity of his judgment, and in view of the issue to which the events were tending.
The English in which it is written is that of the English Bible, or perhaps we should rather say the more popular language of the “Pilgrim's Progress.” It is a language which Bradford uses with great effect. His style is a little stiff, perhaps, to our notions, and now and then somewhat involved. But usually it flows with transparent clearness. He chooses his words with great felicity, and seems to have them equally at his command, whether wielding them with terrible emphasis like the blows of a hammer in indignant denunciation, or pouring them out in lucid narrative or in the eloquent expression of deep and tender pathos. The vigour, the terseness, the expressiveness of his style are well illustrated in the extracts which have been given in the pages of this book. The spelling is throughout irregular, though not illiterate, and here and there we come upon expressions and constructions which have become archaic.2 Scriptural allusions abound; and the style is frequently enlivened by homely phrases and illustrations, colloquial in character, but admirably adapted to express the writer's meaning. For instance, Robinson brought his Arminian opponent to an apparent (i.e. evident) nonpluss. Blackwell betrayed one of his friends “that so he might slip his own neck out of ye coler.” “He wone ye bp's favour (but lost ye Lord's),” (p. 25). Oldham had been a “chief stickler” in a former faction, and “ramped more like a furious beast than a man,” until “he was clapt up a while.” Lyford, who opened other men's letters, is “this slye marchante,” i.e. fellow, and of these two the following illustration seems to have been used in the public court: “like the Hedghogg whom ye conny in a stormy day (in pittie) receaved into her borrow, would not be content to take part with her, but in the end with her sharp pricks forst ye poore conny to forsake her owne borrow, so these two,” &c. There is telling sarcasm in the following: “for shuch men (hypocritical ministers) pretend much for poor souls, but they will looke to their wages and conditions, if that be not to their content, let poor souls doe what they will they will shift for themselves, and seeke poore souls somewher els, among richer bodys” (p. 128). Of the same character is the description of the man “who was so drunke yt he rane his owne nose upon ye pointe of a sword yt one held before him”; and the typical Englishman speaks in the account of the French surprise of Penobscot: “and many French complements they used, and congees they made” till they had cajoled the occupants out of their arms. P. 188 (a).
Illustrations like these might be multiplied indefinitely. We must pass on from the consideration of the style to gather some of the indications given us in the book of the personal history of the man and his character. It has been mentioned that he tells us very little about his own doings, except so far as they are connected with the general fortunes of the Colony. He seems to have joined the congregation at Scrooby at its commencement, and he writes of the persecutions they endured as one who had felt them. He was then about seventeen years old. From his vivid description of the flight from England—telling how for instance the Dutch captain swore his country's oath, “Sacramente” and weighed anchor—and of the storm which followed, the water running into their mouths and ears, as the ship seemed “foundered in ye sea,” the ejaculations of the mariners and of the passengers, and how “if modestie would suffer” he could tell of their prayers—we infer that he was one of the first party that thus escaped. Of his own life at Leyden he makes no mention, and all that we can gather of his position among the refugees is conveyed by the fact that his initials with those of two others occur at the end of a letter written in the name of the whole body. When the party reached America, he tells us that he was among those who were stricken with the disease, and was much beholden to Brewster and Standish for their kind offices. To the mention of a specially brutal answer given by a sailor to one in his sickness who desired but a small can of beer a little note is added in the margin—“which was this author himself.” He tells us that on the death of Carver “William Bradford was chosen governor in his stead—being not yet recovered of his ilnes in which he had been near ye point of death.” From this point until the resignation of his Patent in 1640 we read of him only as “the governor.” The facts that he left a young son behind when he sailed from England, that his wife died soon after their arrival, that he married again and had four children, we learn but from the Appendix. This reticence seems significant not only of his modest and reserved character, but also of his absorption in the fortunes of the Church and Colony to which he devoted his whole self and work. No man had a higher ideal of public spirit and of the subordination of private to public interest than he. He quotes with approval of his beloved master, Mr. Robinson, that “none did more offend him than those that were close, and cleaving to themselves.” One main source of the success with which the weak and struggling Colony came through the overwhelming difficulties and hardships of the early years was the public spirit and cohesion of its members, tried, as they were, at more than one critical period in their history, and of this public spirit none partook more fully, or set a more noble example than the Governor. Indeed, it may be thought that Bradford carries this absorption in the affairs of Plymouth even to the fault of a certain narrowing of his sympathies. He is all for Plymouth; and his interest in the affairs of his neighbours, in the rise and progress of other Colonies as they grew up around him, even in the great migrations of his co-religionists to Boston Bay in 1630, is but incidental, so far only as they affected his own beloved community. But if his affections were somewhat narrowed, making him, as we may imagine, a man of but few intimate friends, they were very deep and break out at times from his habitual reserve with strong and pathetic emotion. Witness the tender and touching account of the departure from Leyden, and the sorrowful leave-takings of parting friends. Witness, too, his devoted affection for his friends Robinson and Brewster. To others, as to Cushman, he can give a just and generous appreciation; to these he gives his heart. And his strong yearning for love and confidence, often characteristic of a reserved nature, and his longing for it both in public and private relations, when it seemed to be lost, is expressed with passionate intensity in a note written in old age contrasting the latter with the former state of the Colony:
O sacred bond, whilst inviollably preserved! how sweete and precious were the fruits, that flowed from ye same! But when this fidelity decayed; then their ruine approached. O that these anciente members had not dyed, or been dissipated, if it had been the will of God, or els that this holy care, and constante faithfullness had still lived, and remained with those that survived and were in times afterwards added unto them. But (alas) that subtill serpente hath slylie wound in himselfe, under faire pretences of necessitie, and ye like, to untwiste those sacred bonds, and tyes, and as it were insensibly by degrees to dissolve (or in a great measure) to weaken ye same. I have been happy, in my first times, to see, and with much comforte to injoye, the blessed fruits of this sweete communion, but it is now a parte of my miserie, in old age to find, and feele ye decay, and wante therof (in a great measure) and with greefe, and sorrow of hart to lamente, & bewaile ye same. And for others warning, and admonition, (and my own humiliation) doe I hear note ye same.
Bradford's deep affection for his “pore people,” this poor persecuted Church, and their confidence in him shown by his repeated election3 as Governor, had its roots in the Puritanism which bound them together in devotion to a common cause. Puritanism was to them the very Cause of God, and they were God's people, pledged by a sacred covenant to stand firm, and to stand together. And the bond of common allegiance to their cause had been drawn closer and stronger by years of fellowship in persecution, in their perilous venture, in battling with the difficulties of their situation. In their principles and aspirations he and they were in full accord. Bradford was a Puritan in his devotion to the principles of Independency, and in the bitter hatred, which they then involved, of Episcopacy with its “courts cannons and ceremonies.” He was a Puritan in his ideal of the State exercising the functions of the Church, and enforcing by strict discipline, moral and spiritual, its austere standard of life. He partook fully of the strong “esprit de corps” which animated the party, and was very jealous for its liberty, its purity, and its consistency. But he was a man whose personal character preserved him from much of the narrowness which Calvinism tended to develop. His was a Puritanism of the earlier type, which had not begun to frown upon innocent culture, in which austerity had not turned to sourness, nor lost its sympathy with the many-sided interests of human life.
He is very bitter against the Church of England, and ruthless in his exultation over the downfall of Episcopacy. A note written in 1646, on the page opposite to that on which, early in his work, he has recorded the oppression suffered by the Nonconformists, gives utterance to an almost savage triumph. But his denunciations, though violent, never degenerate into scurrilous abuse, such as too often disgraced the controversies of the time. His religion is practical rather than doctrinal. And as he wins our respect by his own unfeigned piety and uprightness, so he too judges of men by their actual conduct and not by the party they belong to. And he judges individuals with discrimination and often with generosity. He makes no capital out of the fact that Lyford was a clergyman of the Church of England. And even of Oldham he is inclined on one occasion to believe that he was actuated, not by hypocrisy, but by “some sudden pang of conviction.”
A devout mind such as his naturally tends to see the hand of Providence in everything, and Bradford has given us a very beautiful description of an occasion on which prayer was answered “to their owne and ye Indeans admiration.” There had been a great drought which continued for two months with great heat, “insomuch ye corne began to wither away, though it was set with fishe the moysture whereof helped it much: yet at length it began to languish sore—upon which they set aparte a solemne day of Humiliation to seek ye Lord by humble and fervente prayer in this great distrese,” and, on that same day, hot and cloudless at the beginning, yet “toward evening it began to overcast, and shortly after to raine with shuch sweete and gentle showers, as gave them cause of rejoyceing and blessing God.” But this devout instinct of faith is liable to perversion in the cause of religious partisanship. Bradford was not free from the disposition, then only too common, to attribute the misfortunes of those whom he disliked to the judgment of God. There is the story, for instance, of the “proud and very profane young man,” who, after insulting over the poor sea-sick passengers, was himself the first to be stricken with disease and die, from which our author does not fail to draw the edifying moral. But his reverence was too deep and sincere to allow this dangerous tendency to carry him away unchecked. “God's judgments are unscerchable,” he says on one occasion, “neither dare I be bould therwith, but, however, it shows us ye uncertainty of all humane things, and what little cause there is of joying in them, or trusting to them” (p. 138). And again, when the Massachusetts people, who had thrust themselves unscrupulously into Connecticut, met with misfortunes there, he remarks, “which some imputed as a correction from God for their intrution (to ye wrong of others) into yt place; but I dare not be bould with God's judgments in this kind.”
Bradford was a man of considerable reading. His familiarity with the Bible (in the Genevan Version) is manifest in the frequent use of Scriptural language, and in the application of illustrations borrowed from the Bible history, such as Gideon's army, the men of Eshcol, Naomi and Orpah, Saul's asses, Ishmael and Gedaliah, &c., used with much quaint originality. But he also shows familiarity with many other books, ancient and contemporary. His reading supplies quotations (taking them in the order in which they occur) from Socrates (the Church historian), Foxe, Eusebius, a famous writer of Dutch commentaries (Emmanuel van Meteren), the “Goulden Book” of Marcus Aurelius, Plutarch's “Life of Cato,” Seneca, Peter Martyr, Purchas, Pliny. He is familiar with the story of Moses given by a Heathen writer (Tacitus), and with the history of the Taborites and Zisca. And it is evident that he had not only read, but had digested, and could apply with appositeness, the information he had gained. He was also a careful observer of Nature. He does not show much appreciation of natural beauty. On the wonders of land and sea and sky he makes no comment. His first impressions of America reflect only the depression of his own feelings. He is more ready to recognise the awful majesty of Divine Power in natural phenomena than joy and beauty. But he has given us descriptions of a hurricane, and of an earthquake, drawn with a careful accuracy of detail and circumstance worthy of modern science. And there is an account of a visitation of flies in 1633, followed by a pestilence among the Indians, which has a characteristic interest.
This disease allso swept away many of ye Indeans from all ye places near adjoyning; and ye spring before, espetially all ye month of May, ther was shuch a quantitie of a great sorte of flies, like (for bignes) to wasps, or bumble-bees, which came out of holes in ye ground, and replenished all ye woods, and eate ye green things; and made shuch a constante yelling noyes, as made all ye woods ring of them, and ready to deafe ye hearers; they have not by ye English been heard, or seen before or since. But ye Indeans tould them yt sicknes would follow, and so it did in June, July, August, and ye cheefe heat of sommer.
One further trait of character must be noticed, without which our sketch of Governor Bradford would be incomplete, viz. his possession of the invaluable gift of humour. It is a gift which few leaders of men have been without, and which has oftentimes added much to the influence of its possessors. A sense of the ridiculous in themselves or in others has been to many men, or might have been, a wholesome corrective of exaggeration and intolerance. It is good that the stern features of authority, especially of Puritan austerity, should sometimes relax into a smile. Humour is invaluable to a statesman, and Bradford was fortunate in his possession of the gift. It is shown in many of his comments and illustrations, as for instance in his allusion to the Romans who forsook Cato in Utica praying to be excused “though they could not all be Catos,” and in his quotation of Seneca, “That a great part of libertie is a well governed belly.” His description of Lyford's false humility, which “indeed made them ashamed, he so bowed and cringed unto them,” shows the same characteristic, not only in his shrewd insight into the character of the man, but also in his lively telling of the story. There is, moreover, a grim humour in the punishment which Oldham was condemned to suffer—made to run the gauntlet between two files of soldiers, each of whom gave him a thump behind with the butt-end of his musket as he passed, and so sent him off to mend his manners.
Nor is it only in his narrative and in his shrewd perceptions that Bradford's humour is shown. The same gift helped him to deal successfully with practical difficulties, where a heavier hand and harsher manner might have provoked worse troubles. An instance of such dealing is given us, with considerable enjoyment by himself, in the account of the newcomers in 1621 who declined to go to their duties on Christmas Day, saying it was against their conscience to work on that day. “So ye govr tould them that, if they made it a matter of conscience, he would spare them, till they were better informed.” But when, on returning from work, he found them in the street at play, “he tooke away their implements, and tould them that was against his conscience that they should play & others worke; if they made ye keeping of it a matter of devotion, let them kepe their houses.”
Of Bradford's general administration of its affairs, the Colony of Plymouth itself is his lasting monument. Called to undertake the government almost single-handed at the early age of thirty, he brought the community through all the perils and difficulties of its troubled infancy by the force of his own upright character, his strong common-sense, his courage, wisdom, and faith. He could act boldly and promptly in the time of danger, as for instance when he returned the defiant message of the Narrigansets with like defiance. It wanted no small courage for a little body of some 90 people to challenge a tribe that could put 900 or 1,000 warriors into the field. In vigorous action he was never wanting.
The scheme by which the Colony became the purchasers of the property of the Adventurers was a bold stroke of policy. But bolder still was the action of the “undertakers,” of whom we cannot doubt that Bradford was the inspiring genius, by which they hired the trade for six years, undertaking its debts. It was taking upon their individual shoulders the responsibilities of the whole body. It was risking personal ruin to save the community. And it betokened a brave confidence in the latent resources of the Colony, of which it proved itself not unworthy. Bradford's strength lay in seizing the bearings of the situation and in meeting them with promptness and vigour.
He saw at once the danger that was looming behind the factious conduct of Lyford and Oldham, danger of an irreparable schism. And he was prompt, vigorous and circumspect in his action. In the night when the ship which carried home the letters of the conspirators put to sea, he followed in a small boat and took copies of such as proved to be what he expected. Possessed of proof, he watched his opportunity, waited till the mischief had come to a head, and then struck home, with irresistible effect. And the hand which was prompt to strike was not wanting, when the occasion offered, to heal. When the break-up of the company caused the transfer of its property to the Colony, the opportunity arose for closing the schism between the “generals” and the “particulars,” which was ever threatening to rend the State in two. There was some wavering of opinion as to how the newly organised community was to bear itself towards the “untowarde persons” who were in the midst of it. But “the govr and counsell with other of their cheef friends” wisely seeing that “for ye present, excepte peace and union were preserved, they should be able to doe nothing but indanger to overthrow all, now that other tyes and bonds were taken away, therefore they resolved to take in all amongst them.” And so the Colony was restored again to that unity of interest and sentiment which was necessary for its very existence.
Governor Bradford has been described by Mr. Doyle in eloquent words as the prototype of the long beadroll of American Presidents who have borne rule by the free choice of their brethren. From Bradford onward “America has never wanted men who with no early training in political life, and lacking much that the Old World has deemed needful in her rulers, have yet by inborn strength of mind, and lofty public spirit, shown themselves in all things worthy of high office.” And the testimony is well deserved. For the requirements of her early existence, Plymouth had in him the very man she needed. Brave, indefatigable, public spirited, keen sighted, uniting an ardent jealousy for her welfare with an entire abnegation of self, he elevated the whole tone of life, public and private, by the example of his blameless and sincerely religious life. He was the ideal governor to watch over her struggling infancy, to direct the simple administration of her almost patriarchal government, and to regulate the rapidly growing forces of her vigorous youth. For the difficult task of ruling strong-willed men by their own consent, without the aid of traditional authority, as in old established States, his qualification lay in the influence of his personal character. And for the immediate needs of present policy his statesmanship was sufficient. He could watch for fresh openings for trade, and establish outposts in well-chosen positions. He could foresee that Plymouth must grow, and that it was needful, in laying out the allotments of land, to provide not only for concentration as a means of strength, but also for extension by the influx of new comers. But that his statesmanship should rise to the capacity of genius, and conceive a policy for the more distant future of Plymouth, and its expansion beyond the limits of a single town and a local congregation, was perhaps hardly to be expected. As a matter of fact, the instincts and necessities of the people were driving them on to wider aims than Bradford could understand or approve. He more than once complains of the consequences of growing wealth—that it was tending to dispersion of the Colony, which would be its ruin. From one point of view, his direction of the policy of the State was a series of concessions. It is, indeed, no small tribute to his wisdom that he knew how to make concessions with a good grace. But they show a limited view.
An instance arose in the case of Duxbury, a growing offshoot of the mother-Colony, which was attracting to itself some of the wealthier Colonists, and claimed some amount of local independence and a separate church. The prospect filled Bradford with apprehension, and was only accepted with reluctance, accompanied by expedients calculated to stem the rising and dangerous tide. But it was in vain. The process of expansion went on. It was the destiny of Plymouth to grow, a destiny which she could only renounce at peril of her life. That Bradford failed to comprehend this, that it inspired him only with a lament over his beloved Plymouth left “like an anciente mother growne olde and forsaken of her children,” shows that in its ultimate aims his statesmanship was at fault, and he had mistaken his ideal. It was like the solicitude of a loving but over-anxious father, fearing to entrust his children with that future for which his parental faithfulness had indeed been preparing them.
Bradford's history takes us to the year 1646. At its conclusion he had still some years to live. He describes himself as now grown old, though he had not yet attained the allotted term of years. But it may well be that he was grown old in labours. Of the quiet retirement of these later days a touching memorial remains in those notes of Hebrew study which, as has been said, occupy the first pages of his manuscript. The notes are prefaced by these affecting words:
Though I am growne aged, yet I have had a longing desire, to see with my owne eyes, something of that most ancient language, and holy tongue, in which the Law and oracles of God were write; and in which God, and angels spake to the holy patriarks of old time; and what names were given to things, from the creation. And though I canote attaine to much herein, yet I am refreshed, to have seen some glimpse hereof (as Moyses saw the land of Canan afarr of); my aime and desire is, to see how the words and phrases lye in the holy texte; and to discerne somewhat of the same, for my own contente.
No more touching conclusion could be given to his strenuous toilsome life than this peaceful picture of the old man solacing his declining days with the contemplation, like Moses from the top of Pisgah, of Divine hopes and eternal promises, which endear to him even the very letters in which they were written. Of him it may truly be said that he was
One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,
Sleep to wake.
Notes
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In his introduction to the facsimile reprint of the MS. lately published.
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See note on page 130.
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Twelve times successively, 1621-1632, and eight times between 1633 and 1646.
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