Chapter III — Domestic Women
Section I Susanna Wesley
“She was an admirable woman, of highly improved mind, and of a strong and masculine understanding; an obedient wife; an exemplary mother; a fervent Christian.”
Robert Southey.
WOMAN’S SPHERE.
Home is woman’s most appropriate sphere, and it is there that her influence is most powerfully felt. Perhaps the three most beautiful, musical, and suggestive words in the English language are love, home, and mother; and in these three words is comprehended all the history of a perfect woman. It is woman indeed, that makes home, and upon her depends whether home shall be attractive or repulsive—happy or miserable. We cannot urge too strongly the formation of domestic habits. The lack of them is one of the greatest drawbacks in family life. Many young women are incompetent to fulfil rightly these claims, hence their homes become scenes of disorder, filth, and wretchedness, and their husbands are tempted to spend their evenings in the beer-house, the gin palace, or places of public amusement. Were your education different from what it is, we doubt not you would soon prove your fitness for many things from which you are at present debarred; but that would not alter the fact that your nature qualifies you specially for the performance of home duties. Nor is domestic work of small importance. The woman who shall try to do it rightly is attempting something far greater than those achievements which the trump of fame would blazon abroad. The training of young immortals for an everlasting destiny, is nobler employment than framing laws, painting cartoons, or writing poems. It is well only with the people in general, in proportion as household duty and religion are taught and practised. From that sacred place go forth the senator and the philosopher, the philanthropist and the missionary, to form the future nation. Home is the proper sphere of woman’s usefulness. There she may be a queen, and accomplish vastly more for the well-being of humanity than in the popular assembly. King Lemuel, in describing a virtuous woman, says, “She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness:” industry and economy go hand in hand.
BIOGRAPHY.
“How many children has Dr. Annesley?” said a friend to Thomas Manton, who had just dedicated one more to the Lord in the holy sacrament of baptism. “I believe it is two dozen, or a quarter of a hundred,” was the startling reply. Some of these withered like early spring flowers; others bloomed into youthful beauty; and a few developed into mature life. Susanna was the youngest. She was born in Spital Yard, near Bishopsgate Street, on the 20th January, 1669. Her father, at no small cost of feeling, and at a sacrifice of £700 a year, refused to declare his unfeigned assent to all that was contained in the Book of Common Prayer. His nonconformity caused him many outward troubles, but no inward uneasiness. He was a man of marked prominence, and a very prince in the tribe to which he belonged. But who was Susanna Annesley’s mother? The daughter of John White, the eminent lawyer and earnest Puritan, a member of the House of Commons in 1640. The following curious epitaph was written on his tombstone:—
“Here lies a John, a burning, shining light,
Whose name, life, actions, all alike were White.”
We should like to know something of the place and mode of her education. But whether she was sent to school or trained at home by tutors, an elder sister or her good mother, we know not. It has been said that she was well acquainted with the languages of ancient Greece and Rome. That we believe to be a mistake. But if she was not a classical scholar, she had a respectable knowledge of French; prosecuted as one of her chiefest studies, the noble literature and tongue of Britain; and wrote with marvellous neatness and grammatical accuracy. While careful to strengthen her mind by such abstruse studies as logic and metaphysics, she was not neglectful of accomplishments. Whether she could stir the depths of feeling by her skilful performances on the piano, we know not; but there is ample evidence that she was not destitute of the gift of song.
With Susanna Annesley, the dawn of grace was like the dawn of day. In after-years she wrote:—“I do not judge it necessary to know the precise time of our conversion.” The seed of truth took root imperceptibly, and ultimately brought forth fruit. As she advanced in years, she increased in spirituality. Hear her own words:—“I will tell you what rule I observed in the same case when I was young and too much addicted to childish diversions, which was this,—never to spend more time in any matter of mere recreation in one day, than I spend in private religious duties.” This one passage explains the secret of her noble life.
Good books she recognised among the mercies of her childhood. No doubt they related mainly to experimental and practical religion, and were written by such men as John Bunyan, Jeremy Taylor, and the early puritans. Socinianism was not uncommon in those times, and Susanna Annesley’s faith in the leading doctrines of the gospel was shaken. Happily, Samuel Wesley, most likely her affianced husband, was an adept in that controversy, and he came to her rescue. Her theological views became thoroughly established, and her writings contain admirable defences of the Holy Trinity, the Godhead and atonement of the Lord Jesus, and the Divine personality and work of the Eternal Spirit. Discussions on Church government ran high. Conformity and nonconformity were pitted against each other, and championed by the ablest of their sons. The din of controversy reached her father’s house, and she began to examine the question of State churches before she was thirteen. The result was, that she renounced her ecclesiastical creed, and attached herself to the communion of the established Church. Samuel Wesley’s attention was directed to that subject at the same time, and the change in their opinions seems to have been contemporaneous.
Behold her now, at the age of nineteen, “a zealous Church-woman, yet rich in the dowry of nonconforming virtues;” and over all, as her brightest adorning, the “beauty of holiness,” clothing her with salvation as with a garment.
“Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants;
No angel, but a dearer being, all dipt
In angel instincts, breathing paradise.”
She was a maiden worthy of the most princely spirit that might woo her hand and win her heart; and such Providence had in store for her, in the noble-hearted and intelligent Samuel Wesley. Probably late in 1689, or early in 1690, accompanied by “the virgins, her companions,” she went forth out of Spital Yard, decked in bridal attire, and was united in holy matrimony to the Rev. Samuel Wesley, according to the rites and ceremonies of the Church of England.
Her husband was a curate, on only £30 a year. They “boarded” in London and the neighbourhood, “without going into debt.” In the course of a few months, Mr. Wesley received his first preferment in the Church. Upon £50 a year, and one child additional per annum, his thrifty wife managed to make the ends meet. After existing seven long years in the miserable rectory of South Ormsby, the rectorship of Epworth, valued at £200 per annum, was conferred upon the Rev. Samuel Wesley. The town is a place of deep interest to two religious denominations. There the founder of Methodism and the planter of its earliest offshoot were born, and in the old parish church they were both dedicated to God. One would almost imagine that devouring fire was the rector of Epworth’s adverse element. Scarcely had he and his noble wife taken possession of the new home, when a third of the building was burnt to the ground. Within twelve months after, the entire growth of flax, intended to satisfy hungry creditors, was consumed in the field; and in 1709 the rectory was utterly destroyed by fire. If the number and bitterness of a man’s foes be any gauge of his real influence, then the Rector of Epworth must have been the greatest power in the isle. The consequences of carrying out his sincere convictions regarding things secular and sacred were terrible. The conflagration, involving all but the temporal ruin of the Wesley family, was the work of some malicious person or persons unknown. Instead of appreciating his eminent abilities and scholarly attainments, his brutal parishioners insulted him in every possible way. His friends advised him to leave, but he resolutely disregarded their counsel. “I confess I am not of that mind,” he writes to the Archbishop of York, “because I may do some good there: and ’tis like a coward to desert my post because the enemy fire thick upon me.” Two of his most violent enemies were cut off in the midst of their sins, and in these events Mrs. Wesley saw the avenging hand of Him who hath said, “Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm.”
For nearly forty years the Rector of Epworth sowed with unfaltering hand, and saw no fruit. But ere he departed, the autumn came. He saw “the full corn in the ear,” and a few patches of the golden harvest ready for the reaper’s sickle. A new generation widely different from their fathers, had grown up around him, and in the midst of their tenderest sympathy he passed the quiet evening of life. Memorable sentences were ever and anon dropping from his ready pen, indicating that he was looking for the coming crisis. On the 25th of April, 1735, just as the golden beams of that day shot their last glances upon the old parsonage, so eventful in domestic vicissitudes, the sun of the rector completed its circuit, and sank behind the western hills of old age to shine in a brighter sky for evermore.
When all was over, Mrs. Wesley was less shocked than her children expected. “Now I am heard,” said she, calmly, “in his having so easy a death, and my being strengthened so to bear it.” She, nevertheless, felt deeply her lone and lorn situation. Epworth had been no paradise of unmixed delight to her. The serpent had often lurked among its flowers; poverty, like an armed man, had frequently stood at the gate, and sometimes crossed the threshold, and death had many a time entered the dwelling; but, as in widow’s weeds and sable dress, she left the dear old spot, never more to return,
“Some natural tears she dropped, but dried them soon.”
After spending some months with her daughter in the neighbouring town of Gainsborough, Mrs. Wesley went, in September, 1736, to reside with her eldest son, at Tiverton, where she remained until July, 1737. Thence she removed to Wootton, Wiltshire, where Mr. Hall, who had married her daughter Martha, was curate. In the course of a few months, Mr. and Mrs. Hall removed to Salisbury, and Mrs. Wesley accompanied them to that ancient cathedral city. In the spring of 1739, she returned to the place of her birth, and there spent the remainder of her days. Fifty years before, in the bloom of early womanhood, she had left the mighty metropolis, to share in the joys and sorrows of a minister’s wife. Then, her father, mother, sisters, and brothers were all alive; now, all were numbered with the dead. The mother of the Wesleys herself was waiting, as in the land of Beulah, for the call, “Come ye up hither.” Her closing hours afforded ample evidence of a triumphant death. On the 23rd July, 1742, the founder of Methodism wrote in his journal—“Her look was calm and serene, and her eyes fixed upward, while we commended her soul to God. From three to four, the silver cord was loosening, the wheel breaking at the cistern, and then, without any struggle or sigh or groan, the soul was set at liberty.” Her distinguished son and all her surviving daughters stood round the bed, and fulfilled her last request: “Children, as soon as I am released, sing a psalm of praise to God.” Some of those strains afterwards written by the dying widow’s minstrel son, would have been most appropriate.
In the presence of an almost innumerable company of people, John, with faltering voice, conducted her funeral ceremonies. As soon as the service was over, he stood up and preached a sermon over her open grave, selecting as his text Rev. xx. 11, 12. That sermon was never published. “But,” says the preacher, “it was one of the most solemn assemblies I ever saw, or expect to see on this side eternity.” “Forsaking nonconformity in early life,” says her biographer, “and maintaining for many years a devout and earnest discipleship in the Established Church, which, in theory she never renounces, in the two last years of her life she becomes a practical nonconformist, in attending the ministry and services of her sons in a separate and unconsecrated ‘conventicle.’ The two ends of her earthly life, separated by so wide an interval, in a certain sense embrace and kiss each other. Rocked in a nonconformist cradle, she now sleeps in a nonconformist grave.” There, in Bunhillfields burying-ground, near the dust of Bunyan, the immortal dreamer; of Watts, the poet of the sanctuary; De Foe, the champion of nonconformity; and of many of her father’s associates, her mortal remains await the “times of the restitution of all things.” A plain stone with a suitable inscription stands at the head of her grave.
A NOBLE WIFE.
A true wife, like the grace of God, is given, not bought. “Her price is far above rubies;” and, “the heart of her husband doth safely trust in her.” Such a wife was Mrs. Wesley. In early life she did not disdain to study the minute details of domestic economy, hence she took her proper place at once in the parsonage at Epworth—managed a large household on very inadequate means—while her love for her husband, and regard for the welfare of her children, constrained her to use wisely and well the income entrusted to her control. Her husband laid his purse in her lap, assured that the comfort and responsibility of his house and the interest of his property were in safe keeping. After the disastrous fire, in regard to everything save their eight children, Mr. and Mrs. Wesley were about as poor as Adam and Eve when they first set up housekeeping. Thirteen years after that sad event, a wealthy relative was “strangely scandalised at the poverty of the furniture, and much more so at the meanness of the children’s habit.” The rector’s incarceration for a paltry debt of less than £30, before his friends could come to his rescue, was the heaviest trial of the heroic Mrs. Wesley. What little jewellery she had, including her marriage ring, she sent for his relief; but God provided for him in another way. “Tell me, Mrs. Wesley,” said good Archbishop Sharp, “whether you ever really wanted bread.” “My lord,” replied the noble woman, “I will freely own to your Grace that, strictly speaking, I never did want bread. But then, I had so much care to get it before it was eat, and to pay for it after, as has often made it very unpleasant to me; and I think to have bread on such terms is the next degree of wretchedness to having none at all.” “You are certainly in the right,” replied his lordship, and made her a handsome present, which she had “reason to believe afforded him comfortable reflections before his exit.”
It is certain that the Wesley family lived a life of genteel starvation. The worldly circumstances of the clergy are better now. Curates have £100. South Ormsby is worth more than £250; and the rectorship of Epworth is now upwards of £900. But even in our days, the common tradesman exceeds many clergymen of the Church of England, and ministers of other Churches, in his command of real comfort and substantial independence. The former is respectable in moleskin, but the latter must have broad-cloth. This state of matters is intolerable, grossly unjust, and fearfully oppressive—a wrong done not to pastors only, but to society at large; whose interest suffers through theirs. England lodges in palaces and clothes her nobles, bishops, and merchants in purple; while she leaves many of the most pious and laborious ministers of Christ to be fed by the hand of charity, and clothed in the garments which respectability can no longer wear! What a reproach! When shall it be wiped away?
Between persons of so much decision and firmness as Mrs. Wesley and her husband, no doubt differences of opinion arose. But they were neither serious nor of long duration. The story about a protracted breach caused by the diversity of their sentiments concerning the revolution of 1688, if it have any foundation in fact, is grossly exaggerated in its details. Samuel Wesley and Susanna Annesley were drawn to each other by love and reverence; and if you want to see a marriage noble in every way, you must go to the rectory at Epworth where this couple lived. Their entire married life is one of the sweetest, tenderest, and noblest on record. Mrs. Wesley was always ready to stand by the rector. “Old as I am,” she writes, “since I have taken my husband ‘for bettor for worse,’ I’ll take my residence with him. Where he lives, will I live; where he dies, will I die; and there will we be buried. God do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part him and me.” These strong feelings of attachment were reciprocated by Mr. Wesley. “The more duty you pay her,” he writes to his son Samuel, “and the more frequently and kindly you write to her, the more you will please your affectionate father.” His picture of a good wife is an ideal description of the blessed virgin; but there is reason to believe that the original from which it was drawn was the rector’s own wife.
A GOOD MOTHER.
Who can over-estimate a woman’s worth in the relation of mother? The great Napoleon said: “A man is what his mother makes him.” Is there not much truth in the statement? The tender plant may be trained by the maternal hand for good or evil, weal or woe. John Randolph, the statesman, remarked: “I should have been a French atheist if it had not been for one recollection, and that was, the memory of the time when my departed mother used to take my little hands in hers, and cause me on my knees to say, ‘Our Father, who art in heaven.’” Providence blessed Mrs. Wesley with a large family. She was the mother of nineteen children, most of whom lived to be educated, and ten came to man’s and woman’s estate. Her heart was deeply wrung by bereavements, probably at intervals too short to allow the wounds to heal; but the desolateness of her spirit was broken in upon by the faith that the departed were well, and that the mourner would go to them.
“Oh, when the mother meets on high
The babe she lost in infancy,
Has she not then for griefs and fears—
The day of woe the watchful night,—
For all her sorrows, all her fears,—
An overpayment of delight?”
While Mrs. Wesley, like every good mother, thanked God for gladdening the earth with little children, she knew that they were sent for another purpose than merely to keep up the population. That a family so numerous, and composed of characters so powerfully constituted as the Wesleys, should grow up from childhood to maturity without their domestic disquietudes, would be beyond the range of probability. There were trials deep and heavy, but as far as we can judge, the family of the Epworth parsonage are now collected in the many-mansioned house above. A mother’s influence is the first cord of nature, and the last of memory. She who rocks the cradle, rules the world. A generation of mothers like Mrs. Wesley, would do more for the regeneration of society, than all our Sunday-schools, day-schools, refuges, reformatories, home missions, and ragged kirks put together.
HOME EDUCATION.
The code of laws laid down by Mrs. Wesley for the education of her children was about perfect. We can do little more than suggest some of the main principles upon which she acted in the discharge of this important duty. No sooner were her children born than their infant lives were regulated by method. True she delayed their literary education until they were five years old, but from their birth they were made to feel the power of her training hand; and before they could utter a word they were made to feel that there was a God. Some parents talk of beginning the education of their children. Every child’s education begins the moment it is capable of forming an idea, and it goes on like time itself, without any holidays. She aimed at the education of all their mental and bodily powers. The sleep, food, and even crying of her children was regulated. Her son John informs us, that she even taught them as infants to cry softly. One of the most difficult problems of education is, to form a child to obedience without making it servile. The will is the key of the active being, and in a great measure the key of the receptive too. Along with the inclinations, its purveyors and assessors, it must be the earliest subject of discipline. Without subjecting the will you can do nothing. On this subject we believe the views of Mrs. Wesley to be equally just and propound—to lie at the very foundation of the philosophy of education. “In order to form the minds of children,” she writes, “the first thing to be done is, to conquer their will, and bring them to an obedient temper. To inform the understanding is a work of time, and must with children proceed by slow degrees, as they are able to bear it. But the subjecting of the will is a thing that must be done at once, and the sooner the better. For by neglecting timely correction, they contract a stubbornness and obstinacy which are hardly ever conquered, and never without using such severity as is painful to me, as well as the child.” But education is something more than the teaching of proper obedience; hence she developed their physical powers, stored their intellects, cultured their tastes, and disciplined their consciences. God blessed Mrs. Wesley with signal ability for teaching; and even had the pecuniary circumstances of the family not compelled her to undertake the literary instruction of her children; she would have felt that their religious education was her special charge, and that the solemn responsibility could not be delegated to another. She was the sole instructress of her daughters. Her work was arduous, but she encouraged herself with the faith that He who made her a mother had placed in her hands the key to the recesses of the hearts of her offspring; and that the great part of family care and government consisted in the right education of children.
RELATION TO METHODISM.
Never has a century risen on Christian England so void of soul and faith as the seventeenth. Profligacy and vice everywhere prevailed, and the moral virtues of the nation were at their last gasp. God had witnesses—men of learning, ability, and piety: but they won no national influence. Methodism was the great event of the eighteenth century. For several generations there had been at work powerful influences in the ancestry of its appointed founders, which look like providential preparations. In the history of John Westley, of Whitchurch, we find a beautiful pre-shadowing of the principles more extensively embodied in the early Methodist preachers whom the illustrious grandson who bore his name associated with himself in that glorious revival. The rector of Epworth, looked favourably upon what the churchmen of his day regarded as unjustifiable irregularities, and published an eloquent defence of those religious societies which existed at the time. The religious pedigree, so evident in the paternal ancestry, was no less observable in the mother of the founder of Methodism. Maternal influence exerted over John Wesley and his brothers an all but sovereign control. His mental perplexities, his religious doubts and emotions were all submitted to the judgment and decision of his mother. When Thomas Maxfield began to preach, Wesley hurried to London to stop him. The opinion of his mother was unmistakable, and led to important consequences. “John, you know what my sentiments have been. You cannot suspect me of favouring readily anything of this kind. But take care what you do with respect to that young man; for he is as surely called of God to preach as you are. Examine what have been the fruits of his preaching, and hear him for yourself.” In estimating this remarkable woman’s relation to Methodism, we must not forget that during the different times of her husband’s absence, she read prayers and sermons, and engaged in religious conversation with her own family, and any of the parishioners who came in accidentally. What was this, but a glorious Methodist irregularity? How significant are the words of Isaac Taylor: “The Wesleys’ mother was the mother of Methodism in a religious and moral sense; for, her courage, her submissiveness to authority, the high tone of her mind, its independence, and its self-control, the warmth of her devotional feelings and the practical direction given to them,—came up, and were visibly repeated in the character and conduct of her sons.”
CHARACTER OF MRS WESLEY.
She had a strong and vigorous intellect. The variety of subjects discussed in her letters is not more astonishing than the ability with which they are all treated. Predestination is one of the topics; the lawfulness of enjoyment another; and even love forms the theme of one admirable letter, which Dr. Adam Clarke says, “would be a gem even in the best written treatise on the powers and passions of the human mind.” Her temperament was thoughtful and reflective; her judgment when once fixed, was immovable. At the same time she was refined, methodical, highly bred, and imparted these qualities to all her children.
Perhaps the most remarkable feature in the character of this distinguished woman was its moral grandeur. The holy vigilance and resolute control which she exercised over herself, meet us at every turn of her life. She held her mouth as with a bridle, lest she should offend with her tongue. “It always argues a base and cowardly temper to whisper secretly what you dare not speak to a man’s face. Therefore be careful to avoid all evil-speaking, and be ever sure to obey that command of our Saviour in this case as well as others,—‘Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them.’” The same vigilant government was exercised over all her appetites and passions. She believed that “any passion in excess does as certainly inebriate as the strongest liquor immoderately taken.” Such is a specimen of the golden rules which were sacredly observed by Susanna Wesley.
As regards personal appearance, the mother of the Wesleys seems to have been inferior to her sisters. They possessed fair claims to be called beautiful; she was a graceful and noble English lady, but not strikingly beautiful. Mr. Kirk, her biographer informs us that there are two portraits of Mrs. Wesley, just now claiming to be genuine: the one taken in early life, the other in old age; but neither of them conveys the idea of the elegant lady dressed à la mode. Her figure was probably slight; and her stature about the average female height.