In Charlotte Gordon's fascinating biography, Mistress Bradstreet, Anne Bradstreet emerges as "an electrifying personality"--the first New World poet with her bestselling volume of American poetry. Here, the figure of Anne Bradstreet, the poet, emerges--full of life and passionate intensity. Gordon puts flesh to the legend, helping us to re-imagine the hardships and disappointments Bradstreet must have faced as she strove to fashion an identity for herself as a woman writer in a New World.
Life and Death
Anne Bradstreet was 18 when she journeyed to America in search of a new life. Faced with the brutal realities of life in an unforgiving landscape, she joined the other Puritans in their struggle against starvation, illness, isolation, and almost-certain death. She saw the immediate and horrifying realities of natural existence--"that it is fleeting"--and she eventually found herself on the very edge of their little civilization--alone, despairing, and longing. But, that horrible loneliness did not stop her from becoming America's first major poet. In fact, those abysmal conditions may have given her the inner angst she drew upon to fuel her voice.
Anne Bradstreet was 18 when she journeyed to America in search of a new life. Faced with the brutal realities of life in an unforgiving landscape, she joined the other Puritans in their struggle against starvation, illness, isolation, and almost-certain death. She saw the immediate and horrifying realities of natural existence--"that it is fleeting"--and she eventually found herself on the very edge of their little civilization--alone, despairing, and longing. But, that horrible loneliness did not stop her from becoming America's first major poet. In fact, those abysmal conditions may have given her the inner angst she drew upon to fuel her voice.
A Voice in the American Wilderness
Of course, she was not supposed to write. The warnings were all around her. Reading and writing were believed to be dangerous to the female constitution. As Charlotte Gordon says, "Females could not be poets, the experts said; their brains and constitutions were not strong enough, and too much learning might distract them from their proper station in life."
She had seen what happened to women--with the real-life examples of her sister, Sarah, and Anne Hutchinson--when they dared to challenge the boundaries of a woman's place. But, even if her writing dreams were "empty wishes," and even if it could drive her to madness, Bradstreet would not be silenced. Her voice would be heard--a voice crying out from the wilderness of the New World.
Of course, she was not supposed to write. The warnings were all around her. Reading and writing were believed to be dangerous to the female constitution. As Charlotte Gordon says, "Females could not be poets, the experts said; their brains and constitutions were not strong enough, and too much learning might distract them from their proper station in life."
She had seen what happened to women--with the real-life examples of her sister, Sarah, and Anne Hutchinson--when they dared to challenge the boundaries of a woman's place. But, even if her writing dreams were "empty wishes," and even if it could drive her to madness, Bradstreet would not be silenced. Her voice would be heard--a voice crying out from the wilderness of the New World.
Indispensible: Poetry to Anne Bradstreet
But poetry was an indispensable part of her life; she could not separate her existence as a poet from the rest of her life. After all, Bradstreet was born to write. Her father had always been proud of their relationship by blood to Sir Philip Sidney; and, with this "poetic birthright" in hand, Bradstreet poured herself out in verse. "Anne came up with lines," Charlotte Gordon says, "as she rocked her baby to sleep in the middle of the night, as she stirred the soup on the fire, or she bathed a child's cut." Those lines were poured out upon precious parchment in the dead of night, while her family and servants were asleep. And, in that seemingly unassuming way, Bradstreet was revolutionary: She dared to write.
So, while so many of the details of her life and writing are hidden in the shadows of time--perhaps lost to us in the fire that destroyed her house--Gordon scavenges through the past to rescue something of Anne Bradstreet's legacy. In the end, she says: "Despite [Bradstreet's] modesty in life, she would be the star of a story that would be told for centuries, the tale of what one individual, even a person of exceedingly 'small frame,' could accomplish if she were brave enough, smart enough, and like the country she helped to create, boldly independent."
But poetry was an indispensable part of her life; she could not separate her existence as a poet from the rest of her life. After all, Bradstreet was born to write. Her father had always been proud of their relationship by blood to Sir Philip Sidney; and, with this "poetic birthright" in hand, Bradstreet poured herself out in verse. "Anne came up with lines," Charlotte Gordon says, "as she rocked her baby to sleep in the middle of the night, as she stirred the soup on the fire, or she bathed a child's cut." Those lines were poured out upon precious parchment in the dead of night, while her family and servants were asleep. And, in that seemingly unassuming way, Bradstreet was revolutionary: She dared to write.
So, while so many of the details of her life and writing are hidden in the shadows of time--perhaps lost to us in the fire that destroyed her house--Gordon scavenges through the past to rescue something of Anne Bradstreet's legacy. In the end, she says: "Despite [Bradstreet's] modesty in life, she would be the star of a story that would be told for centuries, the tale of what one individual, even a person of exceedingly 'small frame,' could accomplish if she were brave enough, smart enough, and like the country she helped to create, boldly independent."
