Anne Bradstreet and Her Time Part 15

Of much more attractive order is the comparatively short poem, one of 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, glorifying their own deeds and position and reproaching the others for their shortcomings and general worthlessness with the fluency and fury of seventeenth century theological debate. There are pa.s.sages, however, of real poetic strength and vividness, and the poem is one of the most favorable specimens of her early work. The four have met and at once begin the controversy.

The Fire, Air, Earth and Water did contest Which was the strongest, n.o.blest 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 n.o.blest and most active Element.

Fire rises, with the warmth one would expect, and recounts her services to mankind, ending with the triumphant a.s.surance, that, willing or not, all things must in the end be subject to her power.

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 trans.m.u.tation 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 s.e.xes 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 Erida.n.u.s, where Phaeton was drown'd.

Their magnitude, and height, should I recount My Story to a volume would amount; Out of a mult.i.tude these few I touch, Your wisdome out of little gather much.

I'le here let pa.s.s, 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 l.u.s.t 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 her place among the sisterhood and waits scornfully for such poor plea as Earth may be able to make, surprised to find what power of braggadocio 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 surpa.s.s 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.s 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, compa.s.s 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 ma.s.sy 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 Const.i.tution; 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 room for any future claimant, proceeds to prove her right to the championship, by a tirade which shows her powers quite equal to those of her sisters, considering that her work in the floods has evidenced itself quite as potent as anything Fire may claim in the future.

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 ingrat.i.tude 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 gra.s.s 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 Peac.o.c.k 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 ash.o.r.e as frothy fleece: With rowling grains of purest ma.s.sie 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 Const.i.tution 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 ign.o.ble 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 a.s.sertion about "sister Air," that must have proved singularly aggravating to the others, who, however, make no sign as to the final results, the implication being, that she is after all the one absolutely indispensable agent. But to end nowhere, each side fully convinced in 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 no wonder at the silence as to the real victor, though it is surprising that Mistress Bradstreet let slip so excellent an opportunity 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 a.s.sume, 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 mult.i.tudes there are, Earths beasts and waters fish scarce can compare.