Foremost among these noble women, in position, in culture, and in sacrifice, stood the Lady Arbella[678] Johnson. Her heroism has thrown a halo of poetry around a venture which needed no additional ray to make it bloom in immortal verse. The daughter of Earl Lincoln, the idol of her associates, she was yet a Puritan. Married to Isaac Johnson, she was indeed a helpmeet, sharing in his feelings and animating him to loftier exertions. When her husband resolved to emigrate, she determined to share his peril, and though ill-fitted to brave the rigors of an inclement wilderness by her delicate nature, she answered all objections by saying, “God will care for me, and I must do my duty.” An exile voyage was her wedding tour; and so touched were the Pilgrims by her devotion, that they named their vessel after her, the “Arbella.”[679]
Such was the character, such the home position, of Winthrop and his coadjutors. Even the prejudiced and reluctant pen of that high Tory, Chalmers, though essaying a sneer, had half of its curse turned into a blessing, for he was compelled to write, “The principal planters of Massachusetts were English country gentlemen of no inconsiderable fortunes; of enlarged understandings, improved by liberal education; of extensive ambition, concealed under an appearance of religious humility.”[680]
On the 29th of March, 1630, the “Arbella” sailed from Cowes, off the Isle of Wight, and speeding down the channel, stopped at Yarmouth to join her consorts, the “Talbot,” the “Jewel,” the “Ambrose,” and the rest.[681] Here the self-banished devotees penned a farewell to their brothers in the faith who remained in England. Their noble letter concludes thus: “Wishing our heads and hearts may be as fountains of tears for your everlasting welfare, when we shall be in our poor cottages in the wilderness, overshadowed by the spirit of supplication, through the manifold necessities and tribulations which may not altogether unexpectedly, nor, we hope, unprofitably, befall us, we shall ever rest assured friends and brethren.”[682]
This done, all was done; then, in the early days of April, favored by the breath of budding spring—fit season in which to sail—the flotilla lifted anchor and left Yarmouth, where the feet of these Pilgrims pressed the soil of their dear England for the last time.[683] “Sadness was in their hearts, and tears dimmed their eyes, for they loved the land of their fathers; they could not forget the tender associations of youth, nor the holier associations of manhood, when leaving it for ever. But ‘as the hart panteth for the water-brook,’ so their souls longed for Liberty and God, and they went out full of hope. With a fair wind they passed the Needles, St. Albans, Portland, Dartmouth, and the Eddystone, with its fiery eye, watching for ships over the broad sea. The Lizard, and at last the Scilly Islands disappeared, went down day by day in the blue distance, and were left with the past, till, on Sunday, the 11th of April, 1630, the little fleet stood out bravely into the stormy Atlantic.”[684]
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE ARRIVAL.
“Here the architect
Did not with curious care a pile erect
Of carvéd marble touch, or porphyry,
But built for God and hospitality.”