[Following is a speech delivered by James Gilreath, American history specialist in the Rare Book and Special Collections Division, during a preliminary meeting of the James Madison Council, the Library's private sector advisory body.]
The Bay Psalm Book is not really The Bay Psalm Book. It's actual title is The Whole Book of Psalms Faithfully Translated into English Metre.
Because later generations, long after the Puritans ceased to exist, did not want to say that long title, they nicknamed it The Bay Psalm Book, because the 1640 publication was printed in Massachusetts, the Bay State. It is the first book printed in what is now the United States. As with many things, the reasons that this unprepossessing-looking book came into existence at all vary from the almost cosmic to what may seem trivial to some people today.
Before the advent of Protestantism, all singing during a church service was performed by the choir. Protestantism as a form of religious expression ushered in an age in which the congregation was expected to sing. This form of religious ritual is taken for granted by almost all denominations today, but at that time it was one of the things that Protestants thought made them different, and they believed that the practice was essential for their spiritual well-being. A matter of life or death, really.
So The Bay Psalm Book contained psalms meant to be sung during a religious service and that is the reason the Puritans chose to print it first. It was sacred to them.
Of course, they could have brought over on their trip from Europe some of the English psalm books that were easily procurable. That they didn't goes directly to the heart of the matter. For the Puritans, all the other Protestant sects had psalm books that paraphrased some of the psalms in the Old Testament, which the Puritans thought changed their meanings and their spiritual purposes and effects.
So, that's why the Puritans went through the trouble of translating the psalms and printing a book with the title The Whole Book of Psalms Faithfully Translated into English Metre. The emphasis was on "faithfully." To them, it was nothing less than redemption and salvation. It was one of the reasons why they struggled over treacherous waters for three months living with pigs, cows, and chickens, and why they were able to endure watching many of their brethren die.
Of course, The Bay Psalm Book is rare and valuable, worth millions of dollars, because many individuals and institutions would love to have one. It is among the most prized artifacts of our national culture, and the Library's copy is one of the central linchpins of the Library's Americana collections, which have no peer, ranging from books printed in the Confederacy to children's books. And the Library's early American book collection is the strongest in the country, which is as it should be at the national library.
As a nation, we are always peering into our early roots in legal briefs, historical studies and exhibits, asking: What did those people mean? What did they mean when they said "free"? What did they mean when they said "equal"? What did they mean when they said "justice"? And part of the answers are in those early books, such as The Bay Psalm Book or the Declaration of Independence or Thomas Paine's Common Sense.
But there is something else that is fascinating about The Bay Psalm Book. That is, how it got to the Library of Congress.
It was, of course, used by some unknown Puritan in a very rudely constructed church in Massachusetts in the mid-17th century and was a revered part of his personal property. More important than his bed. More important than his table.
It was later owned by Thomas Prince. As a young student at Harvard at about 1700, Prince wondered what his father's life was like during the early years in Massachusetts, and so he started collecting books and manuscripts, such as the Library's copy of The Bay Psalm Book. These books were not considered valuable or treasures then; no one but Prince was much interested. Prince's interest was personal, but without that interest we would know next to nothing, for example, about Plymouth Plantation, for the records would have been lost.
About mid-18th century, sensing that death was near, Prince gave his books to what was his most cherished institution, his church -- Old South Church -- so that his father and his generation might be remembered. And then the Library's copy of The Bay Psalm Book and Prince's other books were moved to a room near the steeple of the church.
The Bay Psalm Book remained there when the British occupied the church during the American Revolution and British soldiers took down other books next to it to use as kindling during a bitterly cold winter. It sat on its shelf when John Adams died just a short distance away on the Fourth of July in 1826, the same day that Thomas Jefferson died. It was there when the boys of Boston streamed through the streets outside the church on their way south to fight the Civil War. And it watched some of them come back.
But later in the 19th century the church fell on hard times and began to look around for assets to sell. The congregation discovered that The Bay Psalm Book, which had been in its room near the steeple for more than a century, was valuable. So they put The Bay Psalm Book up for auction in New York.
Alfred White of New York attended that auction. He was a highly educated and civic-minded man, and he and his partners, through city planning, are largely responsible for the New York skyline and how Manhattan looks today. He is also partially responsible for the New York City subway line, so some may consider him not a perfect man. But he loved books, was wealthy and jumped at the opportunity to buy The Bay Psalm Book. When Mr. White died, he passed along his wealth, his interest in history and his copy of The Bay Psalm Book to his daughter, Annie Jean White, about whom little is known except that on Dec. 9, 1911, she married Adrian Van Sinderen and that she was later to donate her copy of the first book printed in America to the Library of Congress.
It is easy to imagine what kind of lives they led as they raised their three children -- Adrian, Katherine and Jean -- in Washington, Conn., by reading between the lines in the impersonal entries in Who's Who:
Wealthy (J.P. Morgan Co.); when he wasn't on the commuter train between New York and Connecticut he enjoyed horseback riding (director, National Horse Show of America); involved in the arts (president, Brooklyn Academy of Music); concerned about politics (chairman, Citizens for Eisenhower); a book collector (Grolier Club); social (Yale Club) compassionate (director of both the Red Cross and the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals).
After retirement, Adrian and Annie Jean White traveled, as one can tell by the books he wrote near the end of his life: From Canal to the Horn, The Lure of the Middle East, Africa: Land of Many Lands, A Voyage Through the Agure Seas. And they must have reminisced as he wrote the autobiographical Our Home in the Countryside.
Soon after her husband's death, Annie Jean White made a decision. Her copy of The Bay Psalm Book, the last one in private hands, would be given to the country and the Library of Congress. In 1967 she and her two daughters traveled by train to Washington, perhaps holding her father's copy of The Bay Psalm Book on her lap during the trip.
There was a small ceremony with her daughters, the Librarian of Congress, and the representative to Congress from her district in Connecticut. The book was then placed in the most prominent position on our shelves of American books. After the ceremony, Annie Jean White walked down the street to Union Station to return to Washington, Conn. -- never to return to Washington again -- but content with the knowledge that what she, her father and her husband had so valued would be safe for all time.
