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M E M O IRS
OF
EMINENTLY PIOUS WOMEN.
A NEW EDITION,
tº:
REVISED AND ENLARGED -
REV. SAMUEL BURDER, D.D.
AUTHOR, OF “ ORIENTAL CUSTOMS.”
FROM A LATE LONDON EDITION, IN THREE VOLUMES;
NOW COMPLETE IN
QNE VOLUME,
PHILADELPHIA:
PUBLISHED BY J. J. WOODWARD.

1836.
&
Žey ºf *~ 4…
4-? 32, " -
AD VIER TIS E M E N T.
THE present edition of BURDER's MEMOIRs is published from
a late London Edition, in 8 Vols., and now complete in one
Octavo Volume.
The work had progressively advanced in England from one
to three volumes. The first was compiled by the Rev. Dr.
Gibbon, and published in 1777, and republished in 1804, with
an additional volume, compiled by the Rev. Dr. Jerment. To
these was added a third volume, in 1815, and a new and cor-
rected edition, published, revised, and enlarged, by the REv.
SAMUEL BURDER, D. D., that well known and justly esteemed
author of “ORIENTAL CUSTOMs.” Again the work was re-
published in England, considerably enlarged, embracing the
memoirs, expressly re-written for that edition, of Mrs. Lucy.
Hutchinson, Mrs. Evelyn, Mrs. Savage, Mrs. Hulton, Wis-
countess Glenorchy, Lady Maxwell, Mrs. Berry, Miss Sin-
clair, and Mrs. Fletcher. Such extensive additions gave an
enhanced value to the work in ENGLAND, and will, it is pre-
sumed, give it claims on the patronage and favour of the
AMERICAN public. . .
Philadelphia , . 1886.
C O N TE N T S.
* - Page
LADY JANE GREY . . . . . . . . . . . 1
QUEEN CATHARINE PAR.R. . . . . . . . . . . 22
JANE, QUEEN OF NAVARRE . . . . . . . . . . 32
QUEEN MARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
LADY MARY VERE . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
75
countEss OF SUFFOLK . . . . . . . . . .
LADY MARY ARMYNE . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
LADY ELIZABETH LANGHAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
COUNTEss OF WARWICK . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93
LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
MRs. MARGARET ANDREWS . . . . . . . . . . . 116
LADY ALICE LUCY . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
LADY MARGARETHOUGHTON . . . . . . . . . . 127
MRS. ANN BAYNARD . . . . . . . . . . . . 130
LADY FRANCES HOBART . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184
THE RIGHT HON. LADY CUTTs . . . . . . . . . . . 141
THE RIGHT HON. LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGs . . . . . . . . 148
MRs. JANE RATCLIFFE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . is
LADY RACHEL RUSSELL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168
MRs. ELIZABETH BURNET , , , . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184
MRs. ELIZABETH BURY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .18°
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .221
THE countEss of cARBERY . . . . . .” Tº . ." .. 251
THE VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND . . . . . . .”. . . . . 258
LADY HALKET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210
MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE . . . . . . . . . 280
3- 292
MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON . . . . , , , • - - O
MR.S. EVELYN g * i.e. º ſº © º C O O Q Q {} 310
MRS. SAVAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $17
MRS, HULTON tº tº g Q sº 3. © O © © , º º $27
MRS. BULKLEY . . . . . . . “. . . . . sº
THE COUNTESs of SEAFIEL . . . . . . . . $35
LADY MARGARET STEwART . . . . . . . . . . $45
** **** $53
MR.S. REBECCA COMBE . . . . . , s , " ... •
MRS. GERTRUDE CLARRSON - , , , , , , , , 357
MISS MARY TERRY . . . . . . . . . . . 381
MRS. HOUSMAN . . . . . . . . . . . . .306
MRS. ANN DUTTON . . . . . . . . . . . . $80
* CONTENTS.
THE COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON . . , , , , , , 396
LADY ANN ERSKINE . . . . . . . . . . . 402
MRS. TALBOT . . . . . . . . . . . . . 406
MRs. GRACE BENNET . . . . . . . . . . 410
MRS. FLIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 428
MRS. DORNFORD . . . . . . . . . . . . 432
MRS. WOODD . . . . . . . . . . . . . 437
MRS. WALKER. . . . . . . . . . . . . 445
MRS. CAMPBELL . . . . . . . . . . . . 458
M.R.S. CUNNINGHAM . . . . . . . . . . . . 462
MRS. ALTHENS te * tº tº ſº • • © © º ſº O 485
MISS CATHARINE TALBOT . . . . . . . . . 497
MRs. ELIZABETH CARTER . . . . . . . . . . º. 506
MRS. TRIMMER. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 514
THE VISCOUNTESS GLENORCHY . . . . . . . . 523
~LADY HENRIETTA HOPE . . . . . . . . . . 53%
iADYMAXWELL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $34
Miss GRAY . . . . . . . . . . . . .
MRS. ANNE THORNTON . . . . . . . . . . .
MISS ANN BACON * * * * * e o e s e, ,
LADY BURFORD . . . . . . . . . . . .
MISS ELIZABETH SMITH . . . . . . . . . .
Miss HENRIETTA NEALE . . . . . . . . . .
MRs. CHAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . .
MRs. PEARCE . . . . . . . . . . . . .
ATRs. DAVIES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
MRS. GENOTIN . . . . . . . . . . . . .
MISS MARY STEVENSON . . . . . . . . . .
MRs. MARY COOPER . . . . . . . . . . . .
MRS. FRANCES WILSON. . . . . . . . . . .
MRs. ELIZA CLOUTT . . . . . . . . . . . .
Mrs. ISABELLA BROWN e © © © O gº O tº -Q *O 670
'MRs. ELIZABERRY . . . . . . . . . . . BBS
‘Miss HANNAH SINCLAIR . . . . . . . . . . 690
WłłS. FLETCHER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
wº *
L.A. D Y J A N E G R. E. Y.
LADY JANE GREY was of a very noble stock. Her father, Henry
Grey, Marquis of Dorset, descended in a direct line from Sir Thomas
Grey, knight of the garter, Lord Harrington in right of his wife, and
created Marquis of Dorset by Edward the Fourth, who married his
mother. Her mother was Lady Frances Brandon, the eldest of the two
surviving daughters of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, by Mary,
Queen Dowager of France, youngest daughter of King Henry the
Seventh, and sister to King Henry the Eighth.
Lady Jane very early in life gave astonishing proofs of the greatness
of her mind; and though there was very little difference in age between
her and King Edward the Sixth,” who was thought almost a miracle,
yet in learning she was not only equal to him, but his superior. Her per-
son was extremely pleasing ; but the beauties of her mind were still
more engaging. She had great abilities, and greater virtues; and, as
Bishop Burnet says of her, “She was the wonder and delight of all that
knew her.”f
Female accomplishments were not improbably the first part of her
education. Her genius appeared in the performances of her needle,
and in the beautiful character in which she wrote. She played admi-
rably on various instruments of music, and accompanied them with a
voice exquisitely sweet in itself, and assisted by all the graces which
art could bestow. *
. Her father, the Marquis of Dorset, had himself a tincture of letters,
and was a patron of learned men. He had two chaplains, Harding ſº.
Aylmer, both eminent for their literature, whom he employed as tº
to his daughter. Under their instructions she made a most extra
nary proficiency. She spoke and wrote her own language with petºr.
accuracy: and it is said, that the French, Italian, Latin, and especially
the Greek tongues, were as natural to her as her own; for she not oftly
understood them perfectly, but wrote them with the utmost freedom;
and this, not in the opinion of superficial judges, but of Mr. Ascham,
and Dr. Aylmer ; men who, in point of veracity, were as muskºbove
"...º.
º
.* We cannot exactly ascertain the time of her birth. Mr. Fuller represents her as eighteen
when she suffered; and Sir Thomas Chaloner, as but very little beyond that age. If so, it is
but counting back eighteen years from February 12, 1553–4, when she was beheaded, and
we shall fix her birth in the latter end of the year 1535, or the beginning of the year 1536–
Mr. Foxe expressly says, that there was little difference in age between her and Edward the
Sixth, who was born October 12, 1537. e * * : *.
f History of the Reformation, vol. iii. p. 225, folio edition. * * * *



I
2 MEMOIRS OF
suspicion, as in respect of abilities they were incapable of being deceiv-
ed; men, who were, for their learning, the wonder of their own times,
and of ours; the former, famous for Roman accuracy; the latter, one
of the ablest critics in those learned days. She was also versed in He-
brew, Chaldee, and Arabic, and all this when she was in a manner a
child in age. She was remarkable for a sedateness of temper, a quick-
ness of apprehension, and a solidity of judgment, which enabled her not
only to become the mistress of languages, but of sciences; so that she
thought, reasoned, and spoke upon subjects of great importance in a
manner which greatly surprised even persons of the best judgment and
abilities. And yet she was in no respect elated by these extraordinary
endowments; but was remarkably gentle, humble, and modest in her
demeanour.
Her parents, as appears from her own account, were both of them
strangely severe in their behaviour towards her; and as she was natu-
rally very fond of literature, that fondness was much heightened, as well
by the severity of her parents, as by the gentleness of her tutor, Aylmer;
and, when mortified and confounded by the unmerited chidings of her
parents, she returned with double pleasure to the lessons of her learned
preceptor; and sought in Demosthenes and Plato, her favourite authors,
that delight which was denied her in all the other scenes of life, in
which she very little mingled, and seldom with any satisfaction.
Her alliance with the crown, as well as the great favour in which the
Marquis of Dorset stood with Edward the Sixth, necessarily brought her
sometimes to court, where she received particular marks of the young
king's esteem, who was nearly, as observed before, of the same age with
herself, and who took great pleasure in her conversation. But, for the
most pårt of her time, she seems to have continued at her father's seat,
at Broadgate, in Leicestershire, where she was with her beloved books
in the summer season of 1550, when the famous Roger Ascham” paid
her a visit, as we are informed from himself. “Before I went into
Germany,” says he, “I came to Broadgate in Leicestershire, to take my
leave of that noble lady, Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding much
beholden. Her parents, the duke and dutchess, with all the household,
gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her
in her chamber reading Phaedo Platonis in Greek, and that with as
much delight, as some gentlemen would read a merry tale in Boccace.
After salutation and duty done, with some other talk, I asked her, why
she should lose such pastime in the park'ſ Smiling, she answered me:
* I wist all their sport in the park is but a shadow, to that pleasure that I
find in Plato. Alas! good folk, they never felt what true pleasure
meant.”—“And how came you, madam,' quoth I, ‘to this deep know-
ledge of pleasure ? And what did chiefly allure you unto it, seeing not
many women, and but very few men, have attained thereunto ? ‘I will
tell you,' quoth she, ‘and tell you a truth which perchance ye will
marvel at. " One of the greatest benefits that ever God gave me, is, that
he sent me so sharp and severe parents, and so gentle a schoolmaster;
for when I am in the presence either of father or mother, whether I
speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go, eat, drink, be merry, or sad, be
sewing, playing, dancing, or doing any thing else, I must do it, as it
* Roger Ascham, Esq., two years tutor to the Princess, afterwards Queen Elizabeth.
LADY JANE GREY. 3
were, in such weight, measure, and number, even so perfectly as God
made the world; or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened,
yea, presently sometimes with pinches, nips, and bobs, and other ways,
which I will not name for the honour I bear them, so without measure
misordered, that I think myself in hell till time come that I must go to
Mr. Aylmer,” who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair
allurements to learning, that I think all the time nothing while I am
with him. And when I am called from him, I fall on weeping, because
whatsoever I do else but learning, is full of grief, trouble, fear, and whole
misliking unto me. And thus my book hath been so much my plea-
sure, and bringeth daily to me more pleasure, and more, that in respect
of it all other pleasures in very deed be but trifles and troubles unto me.”
“I remember,” adds Mr. Ascham, “this talk gladly, both because it is so
worthy of memory, and because also it was the last talk I ever had, and
the last time that I ever saw that noble and worthy lady.” f
What a speech was here from so young a lady | What reader is not
melted with it ! What a fine taste, and what a noble and enriched
mind, are here discovered 1 Mr. Ascham appears (and where is the
wonder 4) to have been deeply affected with this interview, and to have
retained a most pleasant and honourable remembrance of it. In a letter
written in the December following, to his friend Sturmius, having in-
formed him that he had had the honour and happiness of being admitted
to converse familiarly with this young lady, and that she had written a
very elegant Latin letter to him, he proceeds to mention this visit at
Broadgate, and his consequent surprise at what occurred there, not
without some degree of rapture. Thence he takes occasion to observe,
that she both spoke and wrote Greek to admiration, and that she had
promised to write him a letter in that language, upon condition that
he would send her one first from the emperor's court. || But this rapture
rose much higher while he was composing a letter addressed to herself,
in the month following. There, speaking of his interview, he assures
her, “That among all the agreeable varieties he had met with in his
travels abroad, nothing had occurred to raise his admiration like that
incident in the preceding summer, when he found her, a young maiden,
by birth so noble, in the absence of her tutor, and in the sumptuous
house of her most noble father, at a time too when all the rest of the
family, both male and female, were regaling themselves abroad with
the pleasures of the chase, I found,” continues he, “the divine virgin
diligently studying the divine Phaedo of the divine Plato, in the original
Greek. Happier, certainly, in this respect, than in being descended,
both on the father's and mother's side, from kings and queens.” He
then puts her in mind of the Greek epistle she had promised him, and
º her also to write another to his friend Sturmius, that what
e had said of her, wherever he came, might be rendered credible by
such authentic evidence.” $
If Lady Jane received this letter in the country, yet it is probable that
* Dr. John Aylmer, afterwards Bishop of London.
f Ascham's Schoolmaster, b. i. p. 37. J.
| Ascham's Epist lib. i. epist. 4. It is to be observed, that Mr. Ascham, at the time of his
his visit to Lady Jane, was going to London to attend Sir Richard Morrison on his
º: to the Emperor Čharles the # in Germany.
§ Biographical Dictionary, vol. vi. p. 136.
4 MEMOIRS OF
she did not stay there long after, since some changes happened in the
family, which, it is not unlikely, brought her to town. For her mater-
mal uncles, Henry and Charles Brandon, both dying at Bugden, the
Bishop of Lincoln's palace, of the sweating sickness, her father was cre-
ated Duke of Suffolk, in October, 1551; Dudley, Earl of Warwick,
being also created Duke of Northumberland at the same time.
These Dukes of Suffolk and Northumberland, upon the fall of the
Duke of Somerset, having reached to the pinnacle of power, upon the
decline of the king's (Edward the Sixth) health, 1553, began to contrive
how to prevent that reverse of fortune they foresaw must happen upon
his demise. To accomplish this end, no other method was judged effec-
tual but a change in the succession to the crown, and the transferring
it into their own families. The Lady Jane was destined to the princi-
pal part in this intended revolution; nay, in reality, the whole of it
centered in her. Those most excellent and amiable qualities, which
had rendered her dear to all who had the happiness of knowing her,
joined with her near affinity to the king, subjected her to become the
chief tool of an ambition notoriously not her own. On this very account
she was married to the Lord Guilford Dudley, fourth son of the Duke
of Northumberland, without any discovery to her of the real design of
the match, which was celebrated with great pomp in the latter end of
May, 1553, so much to the king's satisfaction, that he largely contri-
buted to the expenses of it from the royal wardrobe.
But the magnificence and splendour attending their nuptials was the
last gleam of joy that shone in the palace of King Edward, who grew
So weak in a few days after, that the Duke of Northumberland thought
it high time to carry his project into execution. Accordingly, in the
beginning of June, he communicated the matter to the young monarch;
and having first made all such colourable objections as the affair would
admit against his majesty's two sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, he ob-
served, That the Lady Jane, who was of the royal line, was a person of
extraordinary qualities; that her zeal for the Reformation was unques-
tioned; that nothing could be more acceptable to the nation than the
prospect of such a princess; and, that in this case he was bound to set
aside all partialities of blood, and nearness of relation, which were infe-
rior considerations, and ought to be overruled by the public good. To
corroborate and secure the success of this discourse, care was taken to
place about the king those who should make it their business to touch
frequently upon this subject, enlarge upon the accomplishments of Lady
Jane, and describe her with all imaginable advantages. In the result,
the king's affections standing for this disposition of the crown, he yielded
to overlook his sisters, and set aside his father’s will. Agreeably to
which, a deed of settlement being drawn up in form by the judges, was
'signed by his majesty, and all the lords of the council.
This difficult affair being accomplished, and the letters patent having
passed the seals before the close of the month, the next step was to
concert the properest method for carrying this settlement into execution;
and, till this was done, to keep it as secret as possible. To this end the
Duke of Northumberland formed a project, which, if it had succeeded,
might have made all things easy and secure. He directed letters to the
Lady Mary, in her brother’s name, requiring her attendance at Green-
wich, where the court then was ; and she had got within half a day's
LADY JANE GREY. 5
journey of the place when King Edward expired, July 6, 1553; but,
having timely notice of his decease, she escaped the snare which had
been so artfully laid for her.
The two Dukes, Suffolk and Northumberland, found it necessary to
conceal the king’s death, that they might have some time to gain the
City of London, and get the consent of Lady Jane, who was so far from
having any concern in the business, that as yet she was unacquainted
with the steps which had been taken to procure her the crown. At this
juncture, the Princess Mary sent a letter to the privy council, in which,
though she did not take the title of Queen, yet she clearly asserted her
right to the throne, and took notice of the concealment of her brother’s
death, and of the practices into which they had since entered; intima-
ting, that there was still room for reconciliation, and that, if they com-
plied with their duty in proclaiming her queen, she would forgive and even
forget what was past. But, in answer to her letters, they insited upon
the indubitable right of Lady Jane, and their own unalterable fidelity to
her as their queen, to whom they persuaded her to submit.
These previous steps being taken, and the Tower and City of London
secured, the council quitted Greenwich, and came to London : and on
Monday, July the 10th, in the forenoon, the two last-mentioned dukes
repaired to Durham House, where the Lady Jane resided with her hus-
band, as part of Northumberland’s family. There the Duke of Suffolk
with much solemnity opened to his daughter the disposition the late
king had made of his crown by letters patent, the clear sense the privy
council had of her right, the consent of the magistrates and citizens of
London; and, in conclusion, himself and Northumberland fell on their
knees, and paid their homage to her as Queen of England. The poor
lady, somewhat astonished at their discourse, but not at all affected with
their reasons, or in the least elevated by such unexpected honours, return-
ed them an answer to this effect: “That the laws of the kingdom and
natural right standing for the king's sisters, she would beware of burden-
ing her weak conscience with a yoke which did belong to them ; that
she understood the infamy of those who had permitted the violation of
right to gain a sceptre; that it were to mock God and deride justice, to
scruple at the stealing of a shilling, and not at the usurpation of a crown.
Besides,” said she, “I am not so young, nor so little read in the guiles
of fortune, to suffer myself to be taken by them. If she enrich any, it
is but to make them the subject of her spoil; if she raise others, it is
but to pleasure herself with their ruin; what she adored yesterday, is
to-day her pastime: and if I now permit her to adorn and crown me, I
must to-morrow suffer her to crush and tear me to pieces. Nay, with
what crown doth she present me ! A crown which hath been violently
and shamefully wrested from Catherine of Arragon, made more unfor.
tunate by the punishment of Anne Boleyne, and others that wore it after:
her; and why then would you have me add my blood to theirs, and
be the third victim from whom this fatal crown may be ravished with
the head that wears it! But in case it should not prove fatal to me, and
that all its venom were consumed, if fortuge should give me warranties
of her constancy, should I be well advised to take upon me those thorns,
which would dilacerate, though not kill me outright? To burden myself
with a yoke which would not fail to torment me, though I were assured
not to be strangled with it ! My liberty is better than the chain you
6 * MEMOIRS OF
proffer me, with what precious stones soever it be adorned, or of what
gold soever framed. I will not exchange my peace for honourable and
precious jealousies, for magnificent and glorious fetters. And if you
love me singerely, and in good earnest, you will rather wish me a se-
cure and quiet fortune, though mean, than an exalted situation exposed
to the wind, and followed by some dismal fall.”
But notwithstanding the prudence, goodness, and eloquence of this
speech, she was at length prevailed upon by the exhortations of her fa-
ther, the intercession of her mother, the artful persuasions of the Duke
of Northumberland, and, above all, the earnest desires of her husband,
whom she tenderly loved, to yield her assent to what had been already,
and what was still to be done.” And thus, with a heavy, disinclined
heart, she suffered herself to be conveyed to the Tower, where she en-
tered with all the state of a queen, attended by the principal nobility;
and, what was very extraordinary, with her train supported by the
Dutchess of Suffolk, her mother; in whom, if in any of this line, the
right of succession lay. About six o'clock in the afternoon she was
Proclaimed queen with all due solemnities in the city. The same day,
also, she assumed the royal title, and afterwards proceeded to exercise
some acts of sovereignty. But the royalty of this worthy lady was of
Very short duration, a sunbeam of glory, which was soon utterly extin-
guished in clouds and darkºss; for, on the 19th of the same month,
the Princess Mary was proclaimed queen in London, so that the reign
of this lady was only a vapour of about nine days’ continuance.
As soon as the Duke of Suffolk, who now resided with his daughter
in the Tower, was informed of the Princess Mary’s proclamation, he
went to his daughter's apartments, and in the softest terms he could,
acquainted her that matters had taken such a different turn, that laying
aside the state and dignity of a queen, she must fall back into the con-
dition of a private person. To which intelligence she, with a composed
and serene countenance, made the following answer: “Sir, I better
brook this message than that of my advancement to royalty. Out of
obedience to you, and to my mother, I have grievously sinned, and offer-
ed violence to myself. I now willingly, and as obeying the motions of
my soul, relinquish the crown, and endeavour to salve those faults com-
mitted by others, if at least so great a fault can be salved, by a willing
relinquishment and ingenuous acknowledgment of them.”
Thus ended her reign; but, with the end of her reign commenced
the severest afflictions. She who had been lately a queen in the Tower,
soon found her palace turned into a prison. She also saw the father of
* The mention of the crown, says Bishop Burnet, when her father, with her father-in-law,
saluted her queen, did rather heighten her disorder upon the king's death. She said, she knew
by the laws of the kingdom, and by natural right, the crown was to go to the king's sisters,
so that she was afraid of burdening her conscience, by assuming that which belonged to them;
and that she was unwilling to enrich herself by the spoils of others. But they told her, that
all that had been done was according to the law, to which all the judges and counsellors had
set their hands. This, joined with their persuasions, and the importunity of her husband, at
length prevailed with her to submit, of which her father-in-law afterwards said in council, that
she was rather by enticement of the counsellors, and force, made to accept of the crown, than
came to it by herown seeking and request.—BURNET's History of the Reformation, vol. ii. p. 235.
Lady Jane, says the writer of the British Biography, was altogether uninfluenced by any
ambitious views, and the settlement of the succession was by no means *. to her.
Indeed it does not appear that she was at all consulted about it, either by her father, or by the
Duke of Northumberland; nor does she seem even to have been acquainted with it till after
King Edward's decease.—Vol. ii. p. 420.
LADY JANE GREY. 7
her husband, with all his family, and many of the nobility and gentry,
in the same circumstances, for supporting her claim to the crown; and
this grief must have been considerably increased by his being so soon
after brought to the block. Before the end of the month, she had also
the sad mortification of finding her own father, the Duke of Suffolk, in
the same circumstances of imprisonment with herself. On the third of
November, in the same year, 1553, she and her husband were carried
from the Tower to Guildhall, with Archbishop Cranmer, and others,
and were there arraigned and convicted of high treason by Judge Mor-
gan, who pronounced sentence of death upon them. However, the
strictness of her own and her husband’s confinement was mitigated in
December, by a permission to take the air in the queen’s garden, and
other little indulgences. These circumstances might give some gleam
of hope; but Queen Mary at length determined to take off both Lady
Jane and her husband. The fatal news made no great impression upon
her; the bitterness of death was past; she had long expected it; and
was so well prepared for the worst, that she was very little discomposed.
What has been already related concerning the subject of our Memoirs,
affords us strong proofs of this lady’s fine understanding, her most uncom-
mon proficiency in learning, and her most noble and excellent spirit,
that ascended to the highest elevation of human life with sincere reluc-
tance, and descended from it with as sincere pleasure. But the brighter
part of her character, her piety and goodness, are still behind; of which,
that we may have a clear and full view, let us particularly attend her
in the sunset of life, and collect, if I may so speak, every ray which
adorned her in her preparation for death, and even in her last moments.
Lady Jane was early instructed in the principles of the Reformed Re-
ligion, which she seriously and attentively studied, and for which she
was extremely zealous; and this, together with other excellent and
amiable accomplishments, greatly endeared her to King Edward. Her
dislike of popery, particularly in one of its worst abominations, that of
idolatry, was shown, as it is credibly reported of her, when she was very
young. Upon a visit to the Princess Mary, at New-Hall, in Essex, she
took a walk with the Lady Anne Wharton. Happening to pass by the
chapel, Lady Anne made a low courtesy to the host; at which Lady
Jane testified some surprise, and asked whether the Princess Mary was
there. Lady Anne answered, “No : but I made my courtesy,” said
she, “to Him who made us all.” “Why,” replied Lady Jane, “how
can that which hath been made by the baker, be He who hath made us
all P’ This speech of hers, it is said, being carried to the Princess Mary,
gave her a dislike to the Lady Jane, which she retained ever after.
But her attachment to the Reformed Religion, her knowledge of it,
and her capacity to defend it, are more especially evinced in a conver-
sation between herself and him who was afterwards Dr. Feckenham,
otherwise Howman,” who was sent by the queen but two days before
*John de Feckenham was so called because he was born in a cottage near the forest of
Feckenham, in Worcestershire; his right name being Howman. He was first admitted into
Evesham monastery, and at eighteen years of age he was sent to Gloucester College, in
Oxford. After studying there some years, and i. his degree of batchelor of divinity, he
became chaplain to Bonner, Bishop of London; and on Queen Mary's accession, was made
her chaplain. In May 1556, he was made doctor of divinity by the University of Qxford; and
in September following, appointed Abbot of Westminster-Abbey. He is said to have been a
generous and benevolent man.
*.
8 MEMOIRS OF
her death, to discourse with Lady Jane, and to use her best endeavours
to reconcile her to the church of Rome.
The conversation was to the following effect:
Feckenham.—Madam, I lament your heavy case; and yet I doubt not
but you bear out this sorrow of yours with a constant and patient mind.
Lady Jane.—You are welcome to me, sir, if your coming be to give
Christian exhortation. And as for my heavy case, I thank God I do
so little lament it, that rather I account the same for a more manifest
declaration of God’s favour towards me, than ever he showed me at any
time before. And, therefore, there is no cause why you, or other which
bear me good will, should lament, or be grieved with this my case, being
a thing so profitable for my soul’s health. e
Feckenham.—I am here come to you at this present, sent from the
queen and her council, to instruct you in the true doctrine of the right
faith; although I have so great confidence in you, that I shall have, I
trust, little need to travail with you much therein. ... ."
Lady Jane.—Forsooth, I heartily thank the queen's highness, who is
not unmindful of her humble subject, and I hope likewise that you no
less will do your duty therein both truly and faithfully according to that
you were sent for. -
Feckenham.—What is then required of a Christian man'ſ
Lady Jane.—That he should believe in God the Father, the Son, and
the Holy Ghost; three persons, and one God.
Feckenham.—What I is there nothing else to be required, or looked
for, in a Christian, but to believe in him
Lady Jane.—Yes, we must love him with all our heart, with all our
soul, and with all our mind, and our neighbour as ourself.
Feckenham.—Why then, faith justifieth not, or saveth not ?
Lady Jane.—Yes, verily; faith, as Paul saith, only justifieth.
Feckenham.—Why St. Paul saith, If I have all faith without love it
is nothing. -
Lady Jane.—True it is; for how can I love him whom I trust not?
or how can I trust him whom I love not ? Faith and love go together;
and yet, love is comprehended in faith.
Feckenham.—How shall we love our neighbour !
Lady Jane.—To love our neighbour is, to feed the hungry, to clothe
the naked, and give drink to the thirsty, and to do to him as we would
do to ourselves.
Feckenham.—Why, then, it is necessary unto salvation to do good
works also, and it is not sufficient only to believe.
Lady Jane.—I deny that; and I affirm that faith only saveth. But
it is meet for a Christian, in token that he followeth his master Christ,
to do good works. Yet may we not say that they profit to our salva-
tion; for, when we have done all, yet we be unprofitable servants, and
faith only in Christ’s blood saveth us. a'
Feckenham.—How many sacraments are there !
Lady Jane.—Two ; the one the sacrament of Baptism, and the other
the sacrament of the Lord's Supper.
Feckenham.—No, there are seven.
Lady Jane.—By what scripture find you that ?
Feckenham.—Well, we will talk of that hereafter. But what is sig-
nified by your two sacraments?
LADY JANE GREY. 9
Lady Jane.—By the sacrament of Baptism I am washed with water,
and regenerated by the Spirit, and that washing is a token to me
that I am the child of God. The sacrament of the Lord's Supper offer-
ed unto me, is a sure seal and testimony that I am, by the blood of
Christ which he shed for me on the cross, made partaker of the ever-
lasting kingdom.
Feckenham.—Why, what do you receive in that sacrament Do you
not receive the very body and blood of Christ'ſ
Lady Jane.—No, surely, I do not so believe. I think that at the sup-
per I neither receive flesh nor blood, but bread and wine ; which bread,
when it is broken, and which wine, when it is drunken, putteth me in
remembrance how that for my sins the body of Christ was broken, and
his blood shed on the cross, and with that bread and wine I receive the
benefits that came by the breaking of his body, and shedding his blood
for our sins on the cross.
Feckenham.—Why, doth not Christ speak these words, Take, eat, this
is my body ? Require you any plainer words' Doth he not say, it is his
body ?
Lady Jane.—I grant he saith so ; and so he saith, I am the vine, I
am the door : but he is never the more the door nor the vine. Doth not
St Paul say, He calleth things that are not, as though they were 4 God
forbid that I should say that I eat the very natural body and blood of
Christ; for then either I should pluck away my redemption, or else
there were two bodies, or two Christs. One body was tormented on
the cross, and if they did eat another body, then had he two bodies; or
if his body were eaten, then was it not broken on the cross; or if it
were broken on the cross, it was not eaten of his disciples.
Feckenham.—Why, is it not as possible that Christ by his power
could make his body both to be eaten and broken, and to be born of a
woman without man, as to walk upon the sea having a body, and other
such like miracles as he wrought by his power only 4
Lady Jane.—Yes, verily. If God would have done at his supper any
miracle, he might have done so ; but I say that then he minded to work
no miracle, but only to break his body, and to shed his blood on the cross
for our sins. But I pray you to answer me to this one question, Where
was Christ when he said, Take, eat, this is my body ? Was he not at
the table when he said so He was at that time alive, and suffered not
till the next day. What took he but bread 4 What brake he but bread!
Look, what he took he brake, and look, what he brake he gave, and
look, what he gave they did eat; and yet, all this time he himself was
alive, and at supper before his disciples, or else they were deceived.
Feckenham.—You ground your faith upon such authors as both say
and unsay with a breath, and not upon the church, to whom ye ought
to give credit.
Lady Jane.—No, I ground my faith on God’s word, and not upon the
church; for, if the church be a good church, the faith of the church
must be tried by God’s word, and not God’s word by the church, neither
my faith. Shall I believe the church because of antiquity 4 or shall I
give credit to the church because it taketh away from me the half part
of the Lord's supper, and will not let any man receive it in both kinds?
Which thing if they deny to us, then deny they to us part of our salva-
tion. And I say it is an evil church, and not the spouse of Christ, but
2
10 MEMOIRS OF
the spouse of the devil, that altereth the Lord's supper, and both taketh
from it and addeth to it. To that church, say I, God will add plagues
to it, and from that church will he take their part out of the book of
life. Do they learn that of St. Paul, when he ministered to the Corin-
thians in both kinds ! Shall I believe this church 4 God forbid.
Feckenham.—That was done for a good intent of the church, to avoid
an heresy that sprung in it.
Lady Jane.—Why, shall the church alter God’s will and ordinance
for a good intent 1 How did King Saul ?
The Lord God defend.
With these and such like persuasions, says Mr. Foxe, from whom
this conference is transcribed,” he would have had her lean to the
church, but it would not be. There were many more things whereof
they reasoned, but these were the chief. After this, Mr. Feckenham
took his leave, saying, “That he was sorry for her; for I am sure,”
saith he, “we two shall never meet.”—“True it is,” said Lady Jane,
“that we shall never meet, except God turn your heart; for I am as-
sured unless you repent, and turn to God, you are in an evil case. And
H pray God, in the bowels of his mercy, to send you his Holy Spirit, for
he hath given you his great gift of utterance, if it pleased him also to
open the eyes of your heart.” ||
It has been mentioned before, that Lady Jane’s father had two cha-
plains, Messrs. Harding and Aylmer, who were also her preceptors. Mr.
Harding, it seems, was, in King Edward's days, a zealous protestant and
was not only a preacher of the Reformed Religion, but was very fervent
in animating its professors to abide by it in the face of all persecution
and danger. But, upon the return of popery in Queen Mary’s reign,
he renounced his protestantism, and became a papist.S Upon his apos-
tacy, Lady Jane wrote him a letter, which will abundantly show, that
however he was qualified to instruct her in the matters of learning, she
was no less capable to instruct him in the great concerns of religion.
Should the letter appear to be rather too severe and poignant, let it be re-
membered, that Lady Jane must have known Mr. Harding well, and
was warranted by her intimate acquaintance to deal more freely with
him ; that she might probably have heard him often represent the Ro-
mish errors, and guard others against their infection; and that the good
lady might well have a keen edge set upon her mind against popery,
as it is in itself such a dreadful corruption, and indeed subversion of the
Christian faith, and in her days made such cruel slaughter of the saints
of God, for their testimony to the truth as it is in Jesus. Lady Jane’s
letter is as follows:—
“So often as I call to mind the dreadful and fearful saying of God,
that he which layeth hold on the plough, and turneth back, is not meet
for the kingdom of heaven; and on the other side the comfortable words
* Foxe's Acts and Monuments, vol. iii. p. 31, 32.
|We must conceive that this was understood as it was spoken, as flowing from a religious
*eal, and not from any distaste of contradiction, or any dislike to his person; since we
that Mr. Feckenham, far from deserting, attended her to the very last, and that the Lady Jane
showed a very proper sense of his attention and respect for her in the sight and hearing of all
who were upon or near the scaffold.—Biographia Britannica, vol. iv. p.2421.
§It does not appear but that Mr. Harding, after his embracing popery, persisted in its pro-
fºssion to the end of his days; and accordingly, we find him afterwards engaged on the popish
side as a writer against Bishop Jewel.

LADY JANE GREY. 11
of our Saviour Christ to all those that, forsaking themselves, do follow
him, I cannot but marvel at thee, and lament thy case, which seemed
sometime to be the lively member of Christ, but now the deformed
imp of the devil; sometime the beautiful temple of God, but now
the stinking and filthy kennel of Satan ; sometime the unspotted spouse
of Christ, but now the unshamefast paramour of Antichrist ; some-
time my faithful brother, but now a stranger and apostate ; sometime
a stout Christian soldier, but now a cowardly runaway. Yea, when
I consider these things, I cannot but speak unto thee, and cry out upon
thee, thou seed of Satan, and not of Judah, whom the devil hath de-
ceived, the world hath beguiled, and the desire of life subverted, and
made thee of a Christian an infidel. Wherefore hast thou taken the
testament of the Lord in thy mouth Wherefore hast thou preached the
law and the will of God to others 4 Wherefore hast thou instructed others
to be strong in Christ, when thou thyself dost now so shamefully shrink,
and so horribly abuse the testament and law of the Lord 7 when thou
thyself preachest not to steal, yet most abominably stealest, not from
men, but from God; and committing most heinous sacrilege, robbest
Christ thy Lord of his right members, thy body and soul; and choosest
rather to live miserably with shame to the world, than to die, and glo-
riously with honour reign with Christ, in whom, even in death, is life.
Why dost thou now show thyself most weak, when indeed thou ought-
est to be most strong'ſ The strength of a fort is unknown before the as-
sault; but thou yieldest thy hold before any battery be made.
“Oh wretched and unhappy man what art thou but dust and ashes ;
And wilt thou resist thy Maker that fashioned and framed thee 'ſ Wilt
thou now forsake him that called thee from the custom-gathering
among the Romish antichristians, to be an ambassador and messen-
ger of his eternal word He that first framed thee, and since thy first
creation and birth, preserved thee, nourished, and kept thee, yea, and in-
spired thee with the spirit of knowledge, (I cannot say of grace,) shall
he not now possess thee 'ſ Darest thou deliver up thyself to another,
being not thine own, but his 4 How canst thou, having knowledge, or
how darest thou neglect the law of the Lord, and follow the vain tradi-
tions of men, and whereas thou hast been a public professor of his name,
become now a defacer of his glory ! Wilt thou refuse the true God, and
worship the invention of man, the golden calf, the whore of Babylon,
the Romish religion, the abominable idol, the most wicked mass 4
Wilt thou torment again, rent and tear the most precious body of our
Saviour Christ with thy bodily and fleshly teeth Wilt thou take upon
thee to offer up any sacrifice unto God for our sins, considering that
Christ offered up himself, as Paul saith, upon the cross a lively sacri-
fice once for all 7 Can neither the punishment of the Israelites, which
for their idolatry they so oft received, nor the terrible threatenings of the
prophets, nor the curses of God’s own mouth, fear thee to honour any
other God than him 1 Dost thou so regard him that spared not his dear
and only Son for thee, so diminishing, yea, utterly extinguishing his
glory, that thou wilt attribute the praise and honour due unto him, to
the idols, which have mouths and speak not, eyes and see not, ears and
hear not, which shall perish with them that made them "
“What saith the prophet Baruch, where he recited the Epistle of
Jeremy, written to the captive Jews? Did he not forewarn them, that
19 MEMOIRS OF
in Babylon they should see gods of gold, silver, wood, and stone, borne
upon men’s shoulders to cast a fear before the heathen | But be not ye
afraid of them, saith Jeremy, nor do as others do. But when ye see
others worship them, say you in your heart, It is thou, O Lord, that
oughtest only to be worshipped; for, as for those gods, the carpenter
framed them, and polished them, yea, gilded be they, and laid over
with silver, and vain things, and cannot speak. He showeth, more-
over, the abuse of their dealings, how the priests took off their orna-
ments, and apparelled their women withal; how one holdeth a sceptre,
another a sword in his hand, and yet can they judge in no matter, nor
defend themselves, much less any other, from either battle or murder,
nor yet from gnawing of worms, nor any other evil thing. These and
such like words speaketh Jeremy unto them, whereby he proveth them
to be but vain things, and no gods. And at last he concludeth thus:
Confounded be all they that worship them. They were warned by
Jeremy ; and thou, as Jeremy, hast warned others, and art warned thy-
self by many scriptures in many places. God saith, he is a jealous
God, which will have all the honour, glory, and worship given to him
only. And Christ saith, in the fourth of Luke, to Satan which tempted
him, even to the same Satan, the same Beelzebub, the same devil, which
hath prevailed against thee : It is written, said he, Thou shalt honour
the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.
“These and such like do prohibit thee and all Christians to worship
any other god than that which was before all worlds, and laid the foun-
dations both of heaven and earth; and wilt thou honour a detestable idol,
invented by Romish popes, and the abominable college of crafty cardi-
nals? Christ offered himself up once for all; and wilt thou offer him up
again daily at thy pleasure ? But thou wilt say thou dost it for a good
intent. Oh sink of sin Oh child of perdition Dost thou dream there-
in of a good intent, where thy conscience beareth thee witness of God’s
threatening wrath against thee . How did Saul ? who, for that he diso-
beyed the word of the Lord for a good intent, was thrown from his
worldly and temporal kingdom. Shalt thou then, that dost deface God’s
honour, and rob him of his right, inherit the eternal and heavenly king-
dom? Wilt thou for a good intent dishonour God, offend thy brother, and
endanger thy soul? Wilt thou for a good intent pluck Christ out of
heaven, and make his death void, and deface the triumph of his cross,
by offering him up daily Wilt thou, either for fear of death or hope of
life, deny and refuse thy God, who enriched thy poverty, healed thy in-
firmity, and yielded to thee his victory if thou couldest have kept it !
Dost thou consider that the thread of thy life hangeth upon him that
made thee; who can, as his will is, either twine it harder to last the
longer, or untwine it again to break the sooner'ſ Dost thou not then
remember the saying of David, a notable king, to teach thee a misera-
ble wretch, in his 104th psalm, where he saith thus, When thou takest
away thy spirit, O Lord, from men, they die, and are turned again to
their dust; but when thou lettest thy breath go forth, they shall be
made, and thou shalt renew the face of the earth Remember the
saying of Christ, in the gospel, Whosoever seeketh to save his life, shall
lose it, but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, shall find it. And
in the same place, Whosoever loveth father or mother above, me, is not
meet for me. He that will follow me, let him forsake himself, and take
LADY JANE GREY. 13
up his cross, and follow me. What cross'. The cross of infamy and
shame, of misery and poverty, of affliction and persecution for his name's
sake. Let the oft-falling of these heavenly showers pierce thy stony
heart | Let the two-edged sword of God’s holy word tear asunder the
sinews of worldly respects, even to the very marrow of thy carnal heart,
that thou mayest once again forsake thyself, and embrace Christ; and
like as good subjects will not refuse to hazard all in the defence of their
earthly and temporal governor, so, fly not like a white-livered milksop,
from the standing wherein thy chief captain Christ hath set thee in ar-
ray of this life. Viriliter age, confortetur cortuum, sustinet Dominus—
Fight manfully, come life, come death : the quarrel is God’s, and un-
doubtedly the victory is ours.
“But thou wilt say, I will not break unity. What not the unity
of Satan and his members! not the unity of darkness 1 the agreement
of Antichrist and his adherents Nay, thou deceivest thyself with
the fond imagination of such an unity as is among the enemies of Christ.
Were not the false prophets in an unity ? Were not Joseph’s brethren
and Jacob’s sons in an unity 1 Were not the heathen, as the Amale-
'kites, the Perizzites, and the Jebusites, in an unity'ſ Doth not King
David testify, “Convenerunt in unum adversus Dominum ?’ Yea, thieves,
murderers, conspirators, have their unity. But what unity'ſ Tully
saith of amity: “...ſlmicitia non est nisi inter bonos.” But mark, my friend,
yea, friend, if thou be not God’s enemy, there is no unity but where
Christ knitteth the knot among such as He is. Yea, be well assured,
that where his truth is resident, there it is verified that he himself saith,
‘JNon veni mittere pacem in terram, sed gladium,’ &c. but to set one against;
another, the son against the father, and the daughter against the mo–
ther-in-law. Deceive not thyself, therefore, with the glittering and
glorious name of unity; for Antichrist hath his unity, not yet in deed,
but in name. The agreement of ill men is not an unity, but a conspir-
acy. Thou hast heard some threatenings, some cursings, and some ad-
monitions out of the Scripture to those that love themselves above Christ.
Thou hast heard also the sharp and biting words to those that deny him
for love of life. Saith he not, “He that denies me before men, I will
deny him before my Father in heaven? And to the same effect writeth
Paul, Heb. vi. “It is impossible,” saith he, “that they which were once
enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were partakers
of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted of the good word of God, if they
fall and slide away, crucifying to themselves the Son of God afresh,
and making of him a mocking-stock, should be renewed again by re-
pentance.’ And again saith he “If we shall willingly sin, after we
have received the knowledge of his truth, there is no oblation left for
sin, but the terrible expectation of judgment, and fire, which shall de-
vour the adversaries.” Thus St. Paul writeth, and this thou readest,
and dost thou not quake and tremble?
“Well, if these terrible and thundering threatenings cannot stir thee
to cleave unto Christ and forsake the world, yet, let the sweet consola-
tions and promises of the Scriptures, let the example of Christ and his
apostles, holy martyrs, and confessors, encourage thee to take faster hold
by Christ. Hearken what he saith, ‘Blessed are you when men revile
you, and persecute you for my sake : rejoice, and be glad, for great is
your reward in heaven, for so persecuted they the prophets that were
14 -- MEMOIRS OF
before you.’ Hear what Isaiah the prophet saith, “Fear not the curse
of men, be not afraid of their blasphemies; for worms and moths shall
eat them up like cloth and wool; but my righteousness shall endure for
ever, and my saving health from generation to generation.” “What art
thou then,” saith he, “that fearest a mortal man, the child of man, which
fadeth away like the flower, and forgettest the Lord that made thee, that
spread out the heavens, and laid the foundation of the earth I am the
Lord thy God, that make the sea to rage, and be still, whose name is
the Lord of Hosts. I shall put my word in thy mouth, and defend thee
with the turning of an hand.’ And our Saviour Christ saith to his dis-
ciples, ‘They shall accuse you, and bring you before princes and rulers
for my name’s sake, and some of you they shall persecute and kill; but
fear you not,” saith he, ‘nor care you what you shall say, for it is the
Spirit of your Father that speaketh within you. Even the very hairs
of your head are all numbered.” “Lay up treasure for yourselves,” saith
he, “where no thief cometh, nor moth corrupteth. Fear not them that
kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul ; but fear him that hath
power to destroy both soul and body. If ye were of the world, the
world would love his own ; but because ye are not of the world, but I
have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.’
“Let these and such like consolations, taken out of the Scriptures,
strengthen you to God-ward. Let not the examples of holy men and
women go out of your mind ; as Daniel and the rest of the prophets, of
the three children, of Eleazarus, that constant father, of the seven of
the Maccabees’ children, of Peter, Paul, Stephen, and other apostles
gºld holy martyrs, in the beginning of the church; as of good Simeon,
firchbishop of Seloma, and Zetrophone, with infinite others under Sa-
phores the King of the Persians and Indians, who contemned all tor-
ments devised by the tyrants for their Saviour's sake. Return, return
again into Christ’s war; and, as becometh a faithful warrior, put on
that armour that St. Paul teacheth to be most necessary for a Christian
man. And above all, take to you the shield of faith, and be you pro-
voked by Christ's own example to withstand the devil, to forsake the
world, and to become a true and faithful member of his mystical body,
who spared not his own body for our sins.
“Throw down yourself with the fear of his threatened vengeance
for this so great and heinous an offence of apostacy ; and comfort your-
self on the other part with the mercy, blood, and promise of him that
is ready to turn unto you whensoever you turn unto him. Disdain not
to come again with the lost son, seeing you have so wandered with
him. Be not ashamed to turn again with him from the swill of stran-
gers, to the delicates of your most benign and loving Father, acknow-
ledging that you have sinned against heaven and earth : against hea-
ven, by staining the glorious name of God, and causing his most sincere
and pure word to be evil spoken of through you; against earth, by of—
fending so many of your weak brethren, to whom you have been a
stumbling-block through your sudden sliding. Be not abashed to come
home again with Mary, and to weep bitterly with Peter; not only shed-
ding the tears of your bodily eyes, but also pouring out the streams of
your heart, to wash away out of the sight of God the filth and mire
of your offensive fall. Be not ashamed to say with the publican,
‘Lord, be merciful unto me a sinner l’ Remember the horrible history
LADY JANE GREY. 15
of Julian of old, and the lamentable case of Spyra of late, whose case,
methinks, should be yet so green in your remembrance, that being a
thing of our time, you should fear the like inconvenience, seeing you
are fallen into the like offence.
“Last of all, let the lively, remembrance of the last day be always
afore your eyes, remembering the terror that such shall be in at that
time, with the runagates and fugitives from Christ, which, setting more
by the world than by heaven, more by their life than by him that gave
them life, did shrink, yea, did clean fall away from him that forsook
not them ; and, contrariwise, the inestimable joys prepared for them
that, fearing no peril, nor dreading death, have manfully fought, and
victoriously triumphed over all power of darkness, over hell, death and
damnation, through their most redoubted captain, Christ, who now
stretcheth out his arms to receive you, ready to fall upon your neck
and kiss you, and, last of all, to feast you with the dainties and delica-
cies of his own precious blood, which undoubtedly, if it might stand
with his determinate purpose, he would not let to shed again, rather
than you should be lost. To whom, with the Father, and the Holy
Ghost, be all honour, praise, and glory everlasting. Amen.
“Be constant, be constant, fear not for any pain;
Christ hath redeemed thee, and heaven is thy gain.”
We shall next present our readers with a letter from this pious lady,
written to her father during the time of her imprisonment; her father
who, by his solicitations to her to take the crown, became the unhappy
instrument of her untimely death. --
“FATHER,
“Although it hath pleased God to hasten my death by you,
by whom my life should rather have been lengthened, yet can I so pa-
tiently take it, as I yield God more hearty thanks for shortening my
woful days, than if all the world had been given unto my possessions
with life lengthened at my own will. And albeit I am well assured
of your impatient dolors, redoubled manifold ways, both in bewailing
your own woes, and especially, as I hear, my unfortunate state; yet,
my dear father, if I may without offence rejoice in my own mishaps,
me seems in this I may account myself blessed, that washing my hands
with the innocency of my fact, my guiltless blood may cry before the
Lord mercy to the innocent. And yet, though Imust needs acknowledge,
that being constrained, as you wot well enough, and continually assay-
ed, in taking upon me, I seemed to consent, and therein grievously of.
fended the queen and her laws; yet do I assuredly trust, that this, my
offence towards God is so much the less in that, being in so royal estate
as I was, mine enforced honour never blended with mine innocent heart.
And thus, good father, I have opened to you the state in which I pre-
sently stand, whose death at hand, although to you perhaps it may seem
right woful, to me there is nothing that can be more welcome, than from
this vale of misery to aspire to that heavenly throne of all joy and plea-
sure with Christ our Saviour: in whose steadfast faith, if it may be law.
ful for the daughter to write to the father, the Lord that hitherto hath
strengthened you, so continue you, that at the last we may meet in
heaven with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”
I6 MEMOIRS OF
Another letter of this lady’s is preserved, which was written at the
end of a Greek Testament, and was sent by her to her sister Cathe-
rine,” the night before Lady Jane was beheaded.
“I have here sent you, good sister Catherine, a book, which although
it be not outwardly trimmed with gold, yet inwardly it is more worth
than precious stones. It is the book, dear sister, of the law of the Lord.
It is his testament and last will, which he bequeathed unto us wretches,
which shall lead you to the path of eternal joy; and, if you with a
good mind read it, and with an earnest mind do purpose to follow it, it
shall bring you to an immortal and everlasting life. It shall teach you
to live, and learn you to die. It shall win you more than you should
have gained by your woful father's lands: for, as if God had prospered
him, you should have inherited his lands; so, if you apply diligently
this book, seeking to direct your life after it, you shall be an inheritor
of such riches, as neither the covetous shall withdraw from you, neither
thief shall steal, neither yet the moths corrupt. Desire with David, good
sister, to understand the law of the Lord God. Live still to die, that
you by death may purchase eternal life; and trust not that the tender-
ness of your age shall lengthen your life; for as soon, if God call, goeth
the young as the old; and labour always to learn to die. Defy the
world, deny the devil, and despise the flesh, and delight yourself only in
the Lord. Be penitent for your sins, and yet despair not ; be strong in
faith, and yet presume not; and desire with St. Paul to be with Christ,
with whom even in death there is life. Be like the good servant, and
even at midnight be waking, lest, when death cometh, and stealeth
ºrigipon you as a thief in the night, you be with the evil servant found
sleeping, and lest, for lack of oil, you be found like the five foolish wo-
men, and like him that had not on the wedding-garment, and then ye
be cast out from the marriage. Rejoice in Christ, as I do. Follow the
steps of your master Christ, and take up your cross. Lay your sins on
his back, and always embrace him. And as touching my death, re-
joice as I do, good sister, that I shall be delivered of this corruption,
and put on incorruption ; for I am assured that I shall, for losing of a
mortal life, win an immortal life; the which I pray God grant you, and
send you of his grace to live in his fear, and to die in the true Christian
faith, from the which in God’s name I exhort you, that you never
swerve, neither for hope of life, nor for fear of death ; for, if you will
deny his truth for to lengthen your life, God will deny you, and yet
shorten your days; and if you will cleave unto him, he will prolong
your days, to your comfort, and his glory; to the which glory God bring
me now and you hereafter, when it pleaseth him to call you ! Fare
you well, good sister, and put your only trust in God, who only must
help you.”
We shall, in a manner, conclude the excellent composures of this
worthy lady with a prayer drawn up by her in the time of her trouble,
which will open to our readers the state of her mind in the near views
of death and eternity.
“O Lord, thou God and Father of my life, hear me poor and desolate
woman, which flieth unto thee only in all troubles and miseries. Thou,
* The Lady Jane had two sisters younger than herself; this Lady Catherine the eldest,
and Lady Mary the younger.
LADY JANE GREY. 17
O Lord, art the only defender and deliverer of those that put their trust
in thee; and therefore I, being defiled with sin, encumbered with afflic-
tions, unquieted with troubles, wrapped in cares, overwhelmed with mi-
series, and grievously tormented with the long imprisonment of this vile
mass of clay, my sinful body, do come unto thee, O merciful Saviour,
craving thy mercy and help, without the which so little hope of deliv-
erance is left, that I may utterly despair of any liberty. Albeit it is
expedient, that seeing our life standeth upon trying, we should be vi-
sited sometime with some adversity, whereby we might both be tried
whether we be of thy flock or no, and also know thee and ourselves the
better; yet, thou that saidest thou wouldest not suffer us to be tempted
above our power, be merciful unto me, a miserable wretch, I beseech
thee, that I may neither be too much puffed up with prosperity, neither
too much pressed down with adversity; lest I, being too full, should
deny thee, my God, or being, too low brought, should despair, and blas-
pheme thee, my Lord and Saviour. O merciful God, consider my mi-
sery, best known unto thee, and be thou now unto me a strong tower of
defence, I humbly require thee. Suffer me not to be tempted above my
power, but either be thou a deliverer to me out of this great misery,
either else give me grace patiently to bear thy heavy hand, and sharp
correction. It was thy right hand that delivered the people of Israel
out of the hands of Pharaoh, which, for the space of four hundred
years, did oppress them, and keep them in bondage. Let it, therefore,
seem good to thy fatherly goodness, to deliver me, sorrowful wretch, for
whom thy Son Christ shed his precious blood on the cross, out of this
miserable captivity and bondage, wherein I am now. How long wilt .
thou be absent For ever ? Oh Lord, hast thou forgotten to be gra-
cious, and hast thou shut up thy loving-kindness in displeasure ? Wilt
thou no more be intreated 4 Is thy mercy clean gone for ever, and thy
promise come utterly to an end for evermore ? Why dost thou make so
long tarrying? Shall I despair of thy mercy, O God'ſ Far be that
from me. I am thy workmanship, created in Christ Jesus; give me
grace, therefore, to tarry thy leisure, and patiently to bear thy works,
assuredly knowing, that, as thou canst, so thou wilt deliver me, when
it shall please thee; nothing doubting or mistrusting thy goodness to-
wards me, for thou knowest better what is good for me than I do.
Therefore, do with me in all things what thou wilt, and plague me
what way thou wilt. Only in the meantime arm me, I beseech thee,
with thy armour, that I may stand fast, my loins being girt about with
verity, having on the breastplate of righteousness, and shod with the
shoes prepared by the gospel of peace ; above all things, taking to me
the shield of faith, wherewith I may be able to quench all the fiery
darts of the wicked; and taking the helmet of salvation, and the sword
of the Spirit, which is thy most holy word; praying always with all
manner of prayer and supplication, that I may refer myself wholly to
thy will, abiding thy pleasure, and comforting myself in those troubles
which it shall please thee to send me, seeing such troubles be profitable
for me, and seeing I am assuredly persuaded that it cannot but be well
all that thou dost. Hear me, O merciful Father for his sake whom
thou wouldest should be a sacrifice for my sins; to whom, with thee,
and the Holy Ghost, be all honour and glory. Amen.” --
These are ge principal remains of this most excellent lady. It may

18 MEMOIRS OF
*
not be displeasing to our readers to hear what judgment Bishop Burnet
has passed upon them. “One effect,” says he, “of this,” (that is, of
the frustrated rising of Sir Thomas Wyat,) was the proceeding severely
against the Lady Jane, and her husband, the Lord Guildford, who both
suffered on the 12th of February, 1554. The Lady Jane was not much
disordered at it, for she knew upon the first jealousy that she must be
the sacrifice, and therefore had now lived six months in the constant
expectations of death. Feckenham, afterwards Abbot of Westminster,
was sent to her by the queen, three days before, to prepare her to die.
He had a long conversation with her ; but she answered him with that
calmness of mind, and clearness of reason, that it was astonishing to
hear so young a person of her sex and quality look on death so near
her with so little disorder, and talk so sensibly both of faith and holi-
ness, of the sacraments, the Scriptures, and the authority of the church.
Feckenham left her, seeing he could work nothing on her, but procured
her, as it is said, the continuance, of her life three days longer, and
waited on her on the scaffold. She wrote to her father to moderate his
grief for her death, which must needs have been great, since his folly
had occasioned it. She expressed her sense of her sin in assuming the
royal dignity, though he knew how unwillingly she was drawn into it,
and that, in her royal estate, her enforced honour had never defiled her
innocent heart. She rejoiced at her approaching end, since nothing
could be to her more welcome than to be delivered from that valley of
misery into that heavenly throne to which she was to be advanced, where
she prayed they might meet at last. There was one Harding, who had
*been her father's chaplain, and that was a zealous preacher in King
Edward's days, beforé whose death he had animated the people much
to prepare for persecution, and never depart from the truth of the gos-
pel, but he had now fallen away himself. To him she wrote a letter
full of severe expostulations and threatenings for his apostacy; but it
had no effect upon him. It is of an extraordinary strain, full of life in
the thoughts, and of zeal, if there is not too much, in the expressions.
The night before her execution, she sent her Greek Testament, which
she had always used, to her sister, with a letter, in which, in most pathetic
expressions, she sets out the value she had of it, and recommended the
study and practice of it earnestly to her. She had also composed a de-
vout prayer for her retirements; and thus had she spent the last mo-
ments of her life.”*
I cannot restrain myself from adding what the same bishop, in
another place, says concerning her, which if it is a digression in the
order of our account of this lady, it will be more than excused for the
excellency of the character this celebrated historian draws of her.
“She read,” says he, “the Scriptures much, and had attained great
knowledge in divinity. But, with all these advantages of birth and
parts, she was so humble, so gentle, and pious, that all people both ad-
mired and loved her. She had a mind wonderfully raised above the
world; and at the age when others are but imbibing the notions of phi-
losophy, she had attained to the practice of the highest precepts of it.
She was neither lifted up with the hope of a crown, nor cast down
when she saw her palace made afterwards her prison, but carried her-
* Burnett's History of the Reformation, vol. ii. p. 271, 272.
LADY JANE GREY. * 19
self with an equal temper of mind in those great inequalities of fortune,
that so suddenly exalted and depressed her. All the passion she ex-
pressed in it was, that which is of the noblest sort, and is the indication
of tender and generous natures, being much affected with the troubles
into which her husband and father fell on her account.”%
We are now to attend this excellent lady to her closing scene, and
view in what a manner she met her violent, though unmerited death.
The day finally appointed for her execution, as well as that of her hus-
band Lord Dudley, was the 12th of February, 1554. The fatal morn-
ing being come, her husband earnestly desired the officers that he might
take his last farewell of her, which, though they willingly permitted,
yet, upon notice, she advised the contrary, assuring him, “that such a
meeting would rather add to his afflictions, than increase that quiet
where with they had possessed their souls for the stroke of death ; that
he demanded a lenitive which would put fire into the wound, and that
it was to be feared her presence would rather weaken than strengthen
him ; that if his soul were not firm and settled, she could not settle it
by her eyes, nor confirm it by her words; that he would do well to re-
mit this interview to the other world, that there, indeed, friendships
were happy, and unions indissolvable, and that theirs would be eternal,
if they carried nothing with them of terrestrial, which might hinder
them from rejoicing.” She expressed great tenderness when she saw
her husband led out to execution, but soon overcame it, when she con-
sidered how closely she was to follow him. All she could do was to
give him a farewell out of the window as he passed toward the place
of his execution, which he suffered on a scaffold on Tower-hill with
much Christian meekness. His dead body being laid in a car, and his
head wrapped up in a linen cloth, were carried to the chapel within
the Tower, in the way to which they were to pass under the window of
the Lady Jane, which sad spectacle she beheld with a settled counte-
nance. After this affecting sight, she wrote three short sentences in her
table-book, in Greek, Latin, and English ; which book, upon Sir John
Bridges's entreaty, that she would bestow upon him some memorial,
she presented to him as an acknowledgment for the civility she had
received from him. The sense of the Greek sentence was : “If his
slain body shall give testimony against me before men, his most blessed
soul shall render an eternal proof of my innocence in the presence of
God.” The Latin sentence was to this effect: “The justice of men
took away his body, but the Divine mercy has preserved his soul.”
And the English sentence ran thus: “If my fault deserved punish-
ment, my youth at least, and my imprudence, were worthy of excuse.
God and posterity will show me favour.” She was led out by the lieu-
tenant of the Tower to the scaffold that was prepared upon the green,
over-against the White Tower. It is said, that the court had once
taken a resolution to have her beheaded upon the same scaffold with
her husband; but, considering how much they were both pitied, and
how generally Lady Jane was beloved, it was determined, to prevent
any commotions, that her execution should be performed within the
* Burnet's History of the Reformation, vol. ii. p. 234, 235. Folio edition.
# This Sir John Bridges, the ancestor of the late noble family of that name, dukes of Chan-
dos, was lieutenant of the Tower at this time, and was present with Lady Jane in her apart-
ment, from the windows of which she had the last sight of her husband living and dead.
20 MEMOIRS OF
Tower. She was attended to and upon the scaffold by Mr. Fecken-
ham. But she was observed not to give much heed to his discourses,
keeping her eyes steadily fixed on a book of prayers she had in her hand.
After some short recollection, she saluted those who were present, with
a countenance perfectly composed; then, taking her leave of Mr. Feck-
enham, she said, “God will abundantly requite you, good sir, for your
humanity to me, though your discourses gave me more uneasiness than
all the terrors of my approaching death.” She next addressed herself
to the spectators in the following speech : “My lords, and you good
Christian people which come to see me die. I am under a law, and by
that law, as a never-erring judge, I am condemned to die; not for any
thing I have offended the queen’s majesty, for I will wash my hands
guiltless thereof, and deliver to my God a soul as pure from such tres-
pass, as innocence from injustice, but only for that I consented to the
thing I was forced unto, constraint making the law believe I did that
which I never understood. Notwithstanding I have offended Almighty
God in that I have followed over-much the lust of my own flesh, and
the pleasures of this wretched world; neither have I lived according
to the knowledge that God hath given me; for which cause God hath
appoſhted to me this kind of death, and that most worthily according
to my deserts. Howbeit, I thank him heartily that he hath given me
time to repent of my sins here in this world, and to reconcile myself to
my Redeemer, whom my former vanities had in a great measure dis-
pleased. Wherefore, my lords, and all you good Christian people, I
most earnestly desire you all to pray with me, and for me, while I am
yet alive, that God of his infinite goodness and mercy will forgive my
sins, how numberless and grievous soever against him; and I beseech
you all to bear me witness that I here die a true Christian woman, pro-
fessing and avouching from my soul that I trust to be saved by the blood,
passion, and merits of Jesus Christ, my Saviour only, and by no other
means, casting far behind me all the works and merits of mine own ac-
tions, as things so short of the true duty I owe, that I quake to think
how much they may stand up against me.” Having delivered this
speech, she kneeled down, and repeated the fifty-first psalm in a most
devout manner from beginning to end; after which, she stood up,
and gave her gloves and her handkerchief to her women, Mrs. Eliz.
Tilney, and Mrs. Helen, and her prayer-book to Sir John Bridges. On
her untying her gown, the executioner offered to assist her, but she de-
sired him to let her alone, and turning herself to her women, they help-
ed her off with it, and gave her a handkerchief to bind about her eyes.
The executioner, kneeling down, requested her forgiveness, which she
most willingly gave him. Upon this, he desired her to stand upon the
straw, which bringing her within sight of the block, she said, “I pray
despatch me quickly.” Then, kneeling down, she asked, “Will you
take it off before I lay me down?” To which the executioner replied,
“No, madam.” She then tied her handkerchief about her eyes, and
feeling for the block, said, “What shall I do | Where is it !” Upon
which, one of the standers-by guiding her to it, she laid her head down
upon the block, and then stretched herself forward, and said, “Lord,
into thine hands, I commend my spirit;” and immediately the execu-
tioner at one stroke severed her head from her body.
Thus fell this most accomplished lady, resigning her life in a manner
LADY JANE GREY. 21
worthy of her employing and improving it. “And a true Christian
faith,” as one observes, “having uniformly produced a Christian life,
with what triumph did it trample on the sting of death, and spread a
glory round the Lady Jane, that eclipsed the faint lustre of the super-
stitious and cruel Queen Mary on her throne !” º
The smallest remains of this incomparable person are too precious to
be lost; and we shall therefore insert the following verses, written by
her in the place of her confinement, and it is said, with a pin.
JNºon aliena putes homini quae obtingere possunt:
Sors hodierna mihi cras erit illa tibi,
IN ENGLISH,
Think not, O mortal, vainly gay,
That thou from human woes art free:
The bitter cup I drink to-day,
To-morrow may be drunk by thee.
Deo juvante, nil mocet livor malus;
Et no juvante, nil juvat labor gravis.
Post tenebras spero lucem.
IN ENGLISH,
Endless all malice, if our God is nigh;
Fruitless all pains, if he his help deny.
Patient I pass these gloomy hours away,
And wait the morning of eternal day.
* Glocester Ridley's Life of Bishop Ridley, p. 427.
CATH ARINE PARR.
CATHARINE PARR was born about the beginning of the reign of
King Henry the Eighth, who succeeded to the throne of England,
April 22, 1509. She was the eldest of the two daughters of Sir Tho-
mas Parr, of Kendal, by Dame Maud his wife, who bestowed on her a
learned education, as the most valuable addition he could make to her
other accomplishments. Her progress in literature fully answered her
father's culture and expectations, so that she soon became celebrated,
not only for her good sense, but her learning, and made a most excel-
lent use of her abilities in the employment of them for the best purposes
in every stage of her future life.
She was first married to John Neville, Lord Latymer; and after his
decease, her perfections both in body and mind so powerfully attracted
the affections of King Henry, that she was married to him at Hampton
Court, July 12, 1543. *,
She always took great delight in conversing with the sacred writings,
and the investigation of divine truths, which soon dissipated the clouds
of ignorance, and set before her in a true light the nature of the gos-
pel. She seems, indeed to have had a religious tincture from her infan-
cy; but the religious duties she so carefully practised in early life were
according to the blind devotion of that age. These errors she not only
afterwards retracted, but forwarded the Reformation, and advanced and
encouraged the Protestant cause. She pursued these good designs as
far as the mutable and perverse disposition of an arbitrary prince, and
the iniquity of the times, would admit, and even further than she could
go without exposing herself to the utmost danger; for, though her
laudable attempts were carried on with all proper prudence, and as
much secrecy as the nature of the thing would allow, yet they were
maliciously observed by Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, who
with the Chancellor Wriothesley and others, conspired against her so
artfully, that at length, having drawn up articles, they procured a war-
rant subscribed by the king's own hand to remove her to the Tower,
which being accidentally dropped, was happily found by a person who
conveyed it to her majesty. The sight of it, and the reflections upon
the hard fate of other queens, threw her into a violent disorder, which
confined her to her bed. The king, hearing of her illness, made her a
very kind and seasonable visit, spoke all the comfortable things ima-
ginable to her, and sent her one of his physicians, Dr. Wendy, as is be-
lieved, to take care of her health. The doctor, it seems, was apprized
of the design, and guessed from outward symptoms the cause of the
queen's indisposition ; upon which, well knowing her singular pru-
dence, and relying upon her fidelity, he ventured to open the matter to
her. The king himself being at the same time a little indisposed, the
doctor advised the queen to make his majesty a visit, not doubting but
that by her good sense and prudent management, she might avert the
impending danger. The queen took the doctor’s advice, and soon after
CATHARINE PARR. 23
made his majesty a visit, attended only by her sister, the Lady Herbert,
and the Lady Lane. She found the king sitting and talking with some
gentlemen of his chamber. He seemed pleased with her visit, and
addressed her in a very obliging manner ; and, breaking off his dis-
course with his attendants, he began of his own accord, contrary to his
usual custom, to confer with her about matters of religion, seeming, as
it were, desirous to be resolved, by the queen, of certain doubts, which
he then proposed to her. The queen instantly perceiving the tenden-
cy of his discourse, answered with great humility and submission ;
“Your majesty doth know right well, neither am I myself ignorant,
what great imperfection and weakness by our first creation are allotted
to us women, so as to be ordained and appointed as inferior and sub-
ject to men as our head, from which head all our direction ought to pro-
ceed; and that, as God made man to his own shape and likeness,
whereby he being endowed with more special gifts of perfection, might
rather be stirred to the contemplation of heavenly things, and to the
earnest endeavour to obey his commandments, even so also made he
woman of man, of whom and by whom she is to be governed, com-
manded, and directed: whose womanly weakness and natural imper-
fections ought to be tolerated, aided, and borne withal, so that by his
wisdom such things as be wanting in her, ought to be supplied.
“Since, therefore, that God hath appointed such a natural difference
between man and woman, and your majesty being so excellent in gifts
and ornaments of wisdom, and I, a simple poor woman, so much infe-
rior in all respects of nature unto you ; how then comes it now to pass
that your majesty, in such diffuse causes of religion, will seem to re-
quire my judgment 4 which, when I have uttered, and said what I can,
yet must I, and will I refer my judgment, in this and all other cases,
to your majesty’s wisdom, as my only anchor, supreme head, and go-
vernor here in earth, next under God, to lean unto.”
“Not so, by St. Mary 1” replied the king, “you are become a doctor,
º to instruct us, as we take it, and not to be instructed or directed
y us.” *.
“If your majesty take it so,” answered the queen, then hath your
majesty very much mistaken me, who have ever been of the opinion
to think it very unseemly and preposterous for the woman to take upon
her the office of an instructor, or teacher, to her lord and husband, but
rather to learn of her husband, and be taught by him : and where I
have, with your majesty’s leave, presumed heretofore to discourse with
your majesty, in which I have sometimes seemed to dissent from you,
I did it not so much to maintain my opinion, as to minister discourse ;
not only to the end that your majesty might with the less grief pass
over this painful time of your infirmity by this kind of engagement,
which I fancied might afford you some relief, but also that I, hearing
your majesty’s learned arguments, might from thence gain to myself
great advantage : and I assure your majesty, I have not missed any
part of my desired end in that behalf, always referring myself, in all
such matters, unto your majesty, as by ordinance of nature it is conve-
nient for me to do.” 4.
“And is it even so, sweetheart P’ said the king, “ and tended your
arguments to no worse an end ? then are we now perfect friends again,
as ever we were before.” And, as he sat in his chair, embracing her
24 MEMOIRS OF
in his arms, and saluting her, he declared, “That it did him more good at
that time to hear these words from her own mouth, than if he had heard
present news of an hundred thousand pounds in money having fallen
to him.” Afterwards having entertained the queen and attendants
with some diverting conversation, he gave her leave to depart, and in
her absence gave her the highest commendation. *
The day, and almost the hour appointed, being come, in which the
queen was to be conveyed to the Tower, the king went into his gar-
den, with only two gentlemen of the bed-chamber, and sent for the
queen, who immediately came to wait upon his majesty, attended by
Lady Herbert, Lady Lane, and Lady Tyrwhyt, who were all to have
been apprehended with the queen. The king seemed in high spirits,
and entertained them with all imaginable gayety. In the midst of their
mirth, the lord chancellor approached his majesty’s presence, with forty
of the king’s guards at his heels. The king looked upon him with a
very stern countenance, and walking a small distance from the queen,
called the chancellor to him, who, upon his knees, spoke softly to his
majesty. The king, in great anger, called him knave, arrant knave,
beast, and fool, and commanded him instantly to be gone out of his
presence. Being gone, the king immediately returned to the queen,
who, perceiving him to be much chagrined, employed all the powers of
her eloquence to soften his displeasure, humbly entreating his majesty,
if * chancellor’s fault were not too heinous, to pardon him for her
Sa.KC.
“Ah, poor soul,” says the king, “ thou little knowest how evil he
hath deserved this grace at thy hands. Of my word, sweetheart, he
hath been to thee an arrant knave, and so let him go.” To which the
queen returned an answer expressive of her charitable disposition.
Thus remarkably did Divine Providence defend her from the snares
and malice of her enemies, and rescue her from this most imminent
danger, which being over, she passed safely through the remainder of
this tempestuous reign.
This dreadful alarm seems to have awakened all the faculties of her
soul, and to have put her upon the employment of her thoughts in pious
meditations and prayer, and upon making due preparation for eternity.
She saw very plainly, that the principles of religion she had first im-
bibed, did not correspond with the inspired writings. But, though she
had a considerable share of learning, joined to an excellent understand-
ing, yet, her great modesty would not permit them to be her only guide
in matters of such great importance, for she kept several eminent di-
vines constantly with her to solve her doubts, and instruct her in the
true religion. With these learned men, who were her chaplains, she
used to have private conferences, as often as opportunity would permit,
about the doctrines of the Reformation, and the abuses which were
then crept into the church, but particularly in Lent. She had a ser-
mon preached to her every day in the afternoon, in her chamber, which
generally lasted about an hour, at which time the ladies and gentle-
men of her privy-chamber, and others who were disposed to hear, were
present. To all this she added great application and industry in the
study of books of divinity, particularly of the Holy Scriptures. Being
thus qualified, she began to commit some of her own thoughts to writ-
ing. Her first composition seems to have been that entitled, “Queen

CATHARINE PARR, 25
Katharine Parr’s Lamentation of a Sinner, bewailing the ignorance of
her blind life.” This discourse was found among her papers after her
death, and was published by Secretary Cecil, who prefixed to it a pre-
face of his own writing. In it she acknowledges the sinful course of
her life for many years, in which she, relying on external performances,
such as fasts and pilgrimages, was all the time a stranger to the true
internal power of religion, which she came afterwards to experience
by the study of the Scriptures, and prayer to God for the assistance of
that Holy Spirit, by whose direction they were indited. She explains,
clearly, the ideas she had of justification by faith, so that holiness was
its necessary consequence, and lamented the great scandals given by
many gospellers; a name by which they were distinguished who gave
themselves to the reading of the Scriptures.
She also drew up psalms, prayers, and pious discourses, which she
herself published. The psalms were in number fifteen, each of consi-
derable length, and composed in imitation of the Psalms of David, be-
ing digested into versicles, of which many were borrowed from the book
of Psalms, and other portions of Scripture. Each Psalm had its proper
subject. The first was “for the remission of sins,” beginning, “O Lord
of lords, God Almighty, great and dreadful, which by thy word hast
made heaven, ‘earth, the sea, and all things contained in them nothing
is able to resist thy power: thy mercy is over all thy works: all things
be under thy dominion and rule, both man and beast, and all living
creatures: thou art merciful to whom thou wilt, and hast compassion
on whom it pleaseth thee,” &c.
The second Psalm also was “for remission of sins,” beginning,
“O most mighty God of angels and men, whose judgments be un-
searchable, and whose wisdom is profound and deep;
“Hear the prayers of thy servant, and cast not away the humble
suit of thy poor creature and handy-work,” &c.
The third Psalm was “for remission of sins,” also. The fourth,
“A complaint of a penitent sinner which is sore troubled, and overcome
with sins.” The fifth, “For obtaining of godly wisdom.” The sixth,
“A Christian man prayeth that he may be healed of God.” The seventh,
“For an order and direction of good living.” The eighth, “A Chris-
tian prayeth that he may be delivered from his enemies.” The ninth,
“Against enemies.” The tenth, “When enemies be so cruel that a
Christian cannot suffer them.” The eleventh, “Of confidence and
trust in God.” The twelfth, “If God defer to help long time.” The
thirteenth, “In which a Christian give thanks to God that his enemies
have not gotten the over-hand of him. The fourteenth, “In which the
goodness of God is praised.” The fifteenth, “Of the benefits of God,
with thanks for the same.” To which were subjoined the twenty-se-
cond Psalm, entitled, “The complaint of Christ on the cross,” and “A
Psalm of Thanksgiving. •
Then followed the book of prayer entitled, “Prayers or Meditations,”
wherein the mind is stirred up patiently to suffer all afflictions here, and
to set at naught the vain prosperity of this world, and alway to long for .
everlasting felicity, collected out of holy works, &c. These prayers
were all digested, as were the psalms aforesaid, into verses and senten-
ces, and contain a great spirit of true piety and devotion, sense of God,
and dependence upon him; and many of them were excellently suited
26 MEMOIRS OF
to her condition. Then follow two prayers for the king, and for men to
say on entering battle; the latter of which the queen very probably com-
posed upon the king's expedition into France with a great army, when
she was left regent at home. In this prayer she has this truly pious pe-
tition: “Our cause being now just, and being enforced into war and
battle, we most humbly beseech thee, O Lord God of Hosts, so to turn
the hearts of our enemies to the desire of peace, that no Christian blood
be spilt; or else grant, O Lord! that with small effusion of blood, and
to the little hurt and damage of innocents, we may to thy glory obtain
victory; and that the wars being soon ended, we may all, with one
heart and mind knit vogether in concord and unity, laud and praise
thee.” The next is a devout prayer to be daily said, together with one
or two besides.
There was also printed another piece of the devout studies of this
good queen, entitled, “A goodly Exposition of the fifty-first Psalm,
which Hierom of Ferrary made at the latter end of his days.” This
work begins : “Wretch that I am, comfortless and forsaken of all men,
which have offended both heaven and earth,” &c. Then follow in con-
clusion other things, as “Of Faith—The power of Faith—The Work
of Faith—Good Works—The Prayer of the Prophet Daniel.”
Before we proceed any further in the memoirs of this truly excellent
person, we shall present our readers with a pious prayer of hers, compos-
ed in short ejaculations, suited to her condition, which may serve as a
specimen of the devout exercises of her soul.
“Most benign Lord Jesu, grant me thy grace, that it may alway
work in me, and persevere with me unto the end 1
“Grant me that I may ever desire and will that which is most plea-
sant and acceptable unto thee!
“Thy will be my will; and my will, to follow always thy will !
“Let there be alway in me one will, and one desire with thee, and
that I have no desire to will or not to will, but as thou wilt!
“Lord, Thou knowest what thing is most profitable, and most expe-
dient for me !
* Give, me, therefore what thou wilt, as much as thou wilt, and when
thou wilt
“Do with me what thou wilt, as it shall please thee, and as shall be
most to thine honour ! *
“Put me where thou wilt, and freely do with me in all things after
thy will ! …”
“Thy creature I am, and in thy hands: lead me and turn me where
thou wilt
“Lo ! I am thy servant, ready to do all things that thou command-
est; for I desire not to live to myself, but to thee.
“Lord Jesu ! I pray thee grant me thy grace, that I never set my
heart on the things of this world, but that all carnal and worldly affec-
tions may utterly die, and be mortified in me !
“Grant me, above all things, that I may rest in thee, and fully paci-
fy and quiet my heart in thee!
“For thou, Lord, art the very true peace of heart and the perfect
rest of the soul, and without thee all things be grievous and un-,
uiet.
“My Lord Jesu, I beseech thee, be with me in every place, and at
CATHARINE PARR. 27
all times; and let it be to me a special solace gladly for to love to lack
all worldly solace
“And if thou withdraw thy comfort from me at any time, keep me,
Q Lord, from separation, (desperation,) and make me patiently to bear
thy will and ordinance 1
“O Lord Jesu, thy judgments be righteous, and thy providence is
much better for me than all that I can imagine or devise !
“Wherefore, do with me in all things as it shall please thee I
“For it may not be but well, all that thou dost. If thou wilt that I
be in light, be thou blessed ; if thou wilt that I be in darkness, be thou
also blessed
“If thou vouchsafe to comfort me, be thou highly blessed; and if
thou wilt I lie in trouble and without comfort, be thou likewise ever
blessed !
“Lord, give me grace gladly to suffer whatsoever thou wilt shall fall
upon me, and patiently to take at thy hand good and evil, bitter and
sweet, joy and sorrow ; and for all things that shall befall unto me
heartily to thank thee .
h i Keep me, Lord, from sin, and I shall then dread neither death nor
eld
“Oh ! what thanks shall I give unto thee, which hast suffered the
grievous death of the cross, to deliver me from my sins, and to obtain
everlasting life for me !
“Thou gavest us a most perfect example of patience, fulfilling and
obeying the will of thy Father, even unto death.
“Make me, wretched sinner, obediently to use myself after thy will
in all things, and patiently to bear the burden of this corrupt life
“For, though this life be tedious, and as an heavy burthen to my
soul, yet, nevertheless, through thy grace, and by example of thee, it
is now made much more easy and comfortable than it was before thy
incarnation and passion.
“Thy holy life is our way to thee, and by following that, we walk
to thee that art our head and Saviour ; and except thou hadst gone be-
fore, and showed us the way to everlasting life, who would endeavour
himself to follow thee, seeing we be yet so slow and dull, having the
light of thy blessed example and holy doctrine to lead and direct us?
“O Lord Jesu, make that possible by grace, that is to me impossible
by nature
“Thou knowest well that I may little suffer, and that I am soon cast
down, and overthrown with a little adversity; wherefore I beseech thee,
O Lord, to strengthen me with thy Spirit, that I may willingly suffer
for thy sake all manner of troubles and afflictions !
“Lord, I will acknowledge unto thee all mine unrighteousness, and
I will confess to thee all the unstableness of my heart.
“Oftentimes a very little thing troubleth me sore, and maketh me
dull and slow to serve thee:
“And sometimes I purpose to stand strongly, but when a little trouble
cometh, it is to me great anguish and grief, and of a right little thing
riseth a grievous temptation to me; +
“Yea, when I think myself to be sure and strong, as it seemeth I
have the upper hand, suddenly I feel myself ready to fall with a little
blast of temptation.
28 MEMOIRS OF
“Behold, therefore, good Lord, my weakness, and consider my frail-
ness, best known to thee! * r
“Have mercy on me, and deliver me from all iniquity and sin, that I
be not entangled there with !
“Oftentimes it grieveth me sore, and in a manner confoundeth me,
that I am so unstable, so weak, and so frail in resisting sinful motions;
“Which, although they drew me not away to consent, yet neverthe-
less their assaults be very grievous to me.
“And it is tedious to me to live in such battle ; albeit I perceive that
such battle is not unprofitable unto me, for thereby I know myself, and
mine own infirmities, and that I must seek help only at thine hands.
“It is to me an unpleasant burthen, what pleasure soever the world
offereth me here.
“I desire to have inward fruition in thee, but I cannot attain there-
to.”
The number as well as piety of these compositions sufficiently show
how much of her time and thoughts, amidst all the business and cere-
monies of her exalted station, were employed in order to secure her ever-
lasting happiness, and sow the seeds of piety and virtue in the minds
of her people. And as she very well knew how far good learning was
subservient to these great ends, so she used her utmost endeavours for
its establishment and increase. A remarkable proof of which we have
in the following authentic piece of history. When the act was made,
that all colleges, chantries, and free chapels, should be in the king's dis-
posal, the University of Cambridge were filled with terrible apprehen-
sions; but, well knowing the queen’s great regard to learning, they
addressed letters to her by Dr. Smith, afterwards Sir Thomas Smith,
the learned secretary of state to King Edward, in which they entreated
her majesty to intercede with the king for their colleges, which accord-
ingly she effectually did, and wrote to them in answer, “That she had
attempted the king’s majesty for the stay of their possessions, and that,
notwithstanding his majesty’s property and interest to them by virtue of
that act of parliament, he was,” she said, “such a patron to good learn-
ing, that he would rather advance and erect new occasions thereof, than
confound those their colleges ; so that learning might hereafter ascribe
her very original, whole conversation, and sure stay to him;” adding,
“ that the prosperous state of whom long to preserve, she doubted not
but every one would with daily invocation call upon Him, who alone
and only can dispose all to every creature.” In the same letter she
tells them, “That forasmuch as she well understood that all kinds of
learning flourished among them as it did among the Greeks at Athens
long ago, she desired and required them all, not so to hunger for the ex-
quisite knowledge of profane learning, that it might be thought that
ths Greek University was but transported, or now in England again re-
vived, forgetting our Christianity, since the excellency of the Greeks
only attained to moral and natural things; but that she rather gently
exhorted them to study and apply those doctrines (the variety of human
learning) as means and apt degrees to the attaining and setting forth
the better, Christ's revered and most sacred doctrine, that it might not
be laid against them in evidence at the tribunal seat of God, how they
were ashamed of Christ’s doctrine. For this Latin lesson,” she goes
on, “I am taught to say of St. Paul, ‘..Mºon me pudet evangelii;’” and
CATHARINE PARR. 29
then adds, “To the sincere setting forth whereof I trust universally,
in all your vocations and ministries, you will apply and conform your
sundry gifts, arts, and studies, to such end and sort, that Cambridge
may be accounted rather an university of divine philosophy, than of
natural or moral, as Athens was.”
This so satisfactory an answer to the petition of the University of
Cambridge, shows as well the great influence she had over the king, as
the good use she made of it; nor can the reader fail of observing from
her letter how well she deserved his majesty's favour. Indeed she me-
rited every instance of it she could desire ; for, next to the study of the
Holy Scriptures, and the performance of the duties enjoined by them,
she seems to have made it her principal care to be obsequious to his
will. And as that part of his life which it fell to her lot to share
with him, was attended with almost continual indispositions, so, his ill
health joined such a fierceness of manners to his former untractable
disposition, as rendered it a task extremely difficult even for his prime
favourites to make themselves agreeable to him, and preserve his es-
teem. Yet, such were the amiable qualities of the queen, that, by a
most obliging tenderness, and charming turn of conversation, she not
only secured his affection under all his pain and sickness, but greatly
contributed to the alleviation of them ; which so cemented the king's
affections, and grounded her so firmly in his good graces, that after the
Bishop of Winchester was known to have been disappointed in his
scheme for her ruin, none of her adversaries durst make any attempts
against her.
As a confirmation of what we have said concerning this lady’s extra-
ordinary virtues, and the true sense which the king had of them, we
shall here exhibit the last testimony of his affection to her from his
will, which bears date December the 30th, 1546, but one month before
his decease, which is as follows: $.
—“And for the great love, obedience, chasteness of life, and wis-
dom being in our foresaid wife and queen, we bequeath unto her for her
proper use, and as it shall please her to order it, three thousand pounds
in plate, jewels, and stuff of household, besides such apparel as it shall
please her to take, as she hath already ; and further we give unto her
one thousand pounds in money, with the enjoying her dowry and join-
ture according to our grant by act of parliament.”
Her great zeal for the Reformation, and earnest desire to have the
Scriptures understood by the common people, put her upon the procur-
ing several learned persons, to translate Erasmus's Paraphrase on the
New Testament into the English language for the service of the public.
And this she did at her own great expense. She engaged Lady Mary,
afterwards Queen Mary, in translating the paraphrase on the Gospel of
St. John ; upon which occasion she sent an epistle in Latin to that prin-
cess, of which the following is a translation
“Though there are several considerations, my most noble and beloved
lady, which readily invite me at this juncture to write to you, yet there
is none that equally induces me with that of my solicitude for your
health, which, as I hope it is perfectly enjoyed by you, so I feel myself
most earnestly desirous to receive assurance concerning it. It is for
this reason that I have despatched this messenger to you, who I doubt
80 MEMOIRS OF
A
not will be most welcome, both on-account of his eminent skill in mu-
sic, which I know is a most delightful entertainment to both of us, and
as he will be able, coming immediately from me, to give you certain in-
formation of my health, and all that relates to me. I had it indeed in
my intention to have made you a visit, and to have paid my respects to
you in person, but things have not fallen out to my mind. I now pro-
mise myself that in the winter, before long, we shall have an interview,
than which nothing can be more acceptable and pleasant to me.
“As I have been informed that the finishing hand has been put by
Dr. Mallet to Erasmus’s ‘Paraphrase on the New Testament,” so far
as it regards its translation into English, and that nothing now remains
but an accurate review and care in its correction, I earnestly request
you to transmit me this most elegant and useful work, now revised by
Dr. Mallet, or some other able person whom you have employed, in or-
der that it may be printed in due time; and that you would also signify
to me, whether it is your pleasure, which would indeed be most auspi-
cious to the work, to have it published with your name, or have it sup-
pressed. Indeed, if I might give my opinion, you will considerably
obstruct the work, if it does not go down to posterity under the sanction
of your name ; by which, in the most accurate translation, you have
undertaken a most lasting service for the great benefit of the people,
and are ready, as it is well known, to make further additions in the
same kind, if your health will permit. For my part, I see no reason,
as mankind will undoubtedly ascribe the work to yourself, why you
should endeavour, by suppressing your name, to decline the honour
which they will so deservedly confer upon you. But I leave the whole
affair so entirely to your prudence, that I shall readily fall in with what-
ever method may seem most eligible to you.
“I give you abundant thanks for the present of the purse you was so
kind as to send me. I beseech the all-gracious and almighty God to
crown your days with true undisturbed felicity, and to give you a long
life for its enjoyment From Hanworth, the 20th of September.
“Yours in the most attached and affectionate friendship,
- “CATHARINE Queen K. P.”
King Henry dying upon the 28th of January, 1546-7, when she had
been his wife three years six months and five days, she was, not long
after, married to Sir Thomas Seymour, Lord Admiral of England, and
uncle to King Edward the Sixth. This unhappy marriage put a stop
to all her temporal enjoyments: for, between the matchless pride and
imperiousness of her sister-in-law the Dutchess of Somerset, and the
boundless ambition and other bad qualities of the admiral, such furious
animosities ensued, as proved the destruction of both families, and must
have interrupted the studies and contemplations of this excellent lady,
now embarked with them ; so that, after this marriage, we find no more
of the pious productions of her pen, or any thing considerable, besides
her procuring the publication of the above-mentioned work, the Trans-
lation of Erasmus's Paraphrase on the New Testament into English.
She lived but a short time with this gentleman ; for, after being de-
livered of a daughter, she died in child-bed in the month of September,
1548, not without suspicion of poison, as several of our writers observe.
And, indeed, she herself was apprehensive of unfair dealings, and
/
- ... t . .
CATHARINE PARR. 31
roundly reproached the admiral on her death-bed for his great unkind-
ness to her. *
Where she died, or in what place she lies buried, we know not ; nor
can we meet with any information on the head among our historians,
though many of them mention her death, and speak of her with such
regard as makes the omission of such a circumstance appear somewhat
extraordinary : but we have a Latin epitaph composed in memory of
her by Dr. Parkhurst, one of her domestic chaplains, and afterwards
Bishop of Norwich. It bears the following title, and is as follows:
Incomparabilis foeminae CATHARINE, nuper Angliae, Francia, et Hiberniae, Reginae, domi-
nae mea clementissimae, epitaphium. Anno 1548.
*
Hoc Regina novo dormit Catharina sepulchro,
Sexus foeminei flos honor, atque decus.
Haec fuit Henrico conjux fidissima Regi,
Quem Postguam é vivis Parca tulisset atrox,
Thomae Seymero, (cuitu, Neptune, tridentum
Porrigis) eximio nupserat illa viro.
Huic perperit natam: a partu cum septimus orbem
Sol illustrasset, mors truculenta necat.
Defunctam madidis famuli deflemus ocellis;
Humectat tristes terra Britanna genas.
Nos infelices moºror consumit acerbus :
Inter coelestes gaudet at illa choros.
IN ENGLISHe
An Epitaph on the incomparable Lady CATHARINE, late Queen of England, France, and
Ireland, my most amiable mistress.
This new-erected tomb contains
The mortal, but rever'd remains
Of her, who shone through all her days
Her sex's ornament and praise.
To Henry, Albion's mighty King,
With whose renown all nations rin
She prov’d a most accomplished .#,
The crown and comfort of his life.
Her lord no more, in Hymen's bands
With Seymour next she joins her hands;
Seymour, who o'er the wat'ry plains
Wielding th’ imperial trident reigns:
To him a female babe she bore,
But, when the sun had travell'd o'er
For seven successive days the skies,
A breathless corpse the mother lies.
Her family her loss bemoans;
Britannia echoes to their groans:
In might and griefs we pine away;
She triumphs in the blaze of day,
And, with th' angelic choirs above,
Attunes the harp of joy and love.
JANE, QUEEN OF NAVAR R.E.”
JANE of Albert, the subject of our Memoirs, was daughter of Henry
the Second, King of Navarre, and Margaret of Orleans,i sister to Fran-
cis the first of that name, King of France, and was carefully educated
in the Protestant religion from her childhood, to which she steadfastly
adhered all her days. She married Anthony of Bourbon, son to Charles
Duke of Wendome, by whom she had Henry, the fourth of that name,
King of France by his father’s right, and King of Navarre by his
mother’s.
* Navarre was a small kingdom south of France, near the Pyrenean mountains. It is
now part of France itself.
f The mother of the subject of our memoirs bore a very eminent character, being distin-
guished for her piety, virtue, and fine understanding. Perhaps it may not be unacceptable to
our readers, as it will not be entirely foreign to our work, to recite the following account of a
very edifying and pleasing event in which she had her share, in a translation from the elegant
Witsius.'" Wii Misceli sãor vol. ii. p. 185.
“As an instance,” says our excellent author, “of a placid and pleasant death, James Fa-
ber Stapulensis, a name famous in France among the revivers of evangelical truth and sound
learning, deserves to be recorded. He, in a very advanced age, flying from the violence of
the persecution with which the professors of the Reformed Religion were oppressed in France,
withdrew himself to the country of the Queen of Navarre, the magnanimous and wise pro-
tectress of the protestant cause. On a certain day the queen sent and invited him to dine
with her, gathering a number of learned and pious men, with whose conversation she was
Wºjci, to be guests with him. While the rest of the company, with a great
deal of cheerfulness, enjoyed their meal, Faber discovered many signs of a deep sorrow. The
queen asked the reason ; to which he replied, “How can I, O queen be cheerful myself, or
contribute to the cheerfulness of others, who am the most wicked creature upon the face of
the earth?”—“But what,” said she, “my friend, can that wickedness be which you have com-
mitted, who, from your youth up, have appeared to lead a most holy life?” He answered, ‘I
have lived to an hundred and one years pure from every stain of lewdness, and do not recol-
lect any thing particularly on the account of which I should fear leaving life with a troubled
conscience, except one, which, however, I hope, may be forgiven.” For a while he could not
F. on account of the tears that gushed from his eyes; but at length recovering himself,
e said: “How shall I appear before the high tribunal of God, who have sincerely instructed
others in his holy gospel, and rendered them more brave and constant in its profession than
myself, so that not a É. among them have courageously endured a thousand tortures, and
even death itself; and yet I, their poor dastardly minister, contrary to the will of the Lord,
have by a shameful flight sought to lengthen out that life which will very soon of itself for-
sake a decrepit old man, to whom nothing more glorious could have happened than that I
should have willingly sealed those divine truths, whose power I have so often experienced,
with that little . of blood that is now creeping in my veins.’ To which the queen, as
she was remarkable for her eloquence, and richly furnished with the knowledge of the Scrip-
tures, suggested several considerations which were quite adapted to mitigate his grief, and
which were strengthened and confirmed by the concurrence of the rest of the guests that
were sitting at the table; upon which the yenerable man, resuming his spirit, thus spoke:
“Well, then, Isee nothing remains but that I should go home to God, having first, if it is agree-
able to you, made my will; and I do not choose to defer it, for I perceive the summons from
my God is come.’ Presently fixing his eyes upon the queen, “I appoint you,” says he, “my
heir. I bequeath all my books to Mr. Gerard, the minister; and as to my clothes, and all
else I have in the world, I give them to the poor. The rest I commit to God.” Upon which
the queen smiling, said, “But in this disposal what shall I get, my friend, by my appointment
of being your heir 7–4. The care,' he replied, ‘of distributing my effects among the poor.”—“I
accept it,” says she, “and protest that this heirship is more acceptable to me than if my brother
had left me the whole kingdom of France.’ The good man by this time becoming quite plea-
sant, signified that he should be glad to take a little sleep, and bidding the guests be cheer-
ful, and taking leave of them, he laid down upon a couch that was near at hand. The com-
pany apprehended him to be only asleep; but it proved that he slept in the Lord, without one
struggle, sigh, or groan. The queen often mentioned the remarkable death of this holy man.”
JANE OF NAWARRE. 33
This Anthony, King of Navarre, in the minority of Charles the
Ninth, being the first prince of the blood, was to be his protector; but
the queen-mother, and the Guises, aiming to get the power and ma-
nagement of affairs into their own hands, endeavoured by all means to
detach the King of Navarre' from the Protestant interest, that so, by
weakening it, they might carry every thing according to their pleasure.
For which purpose they employed the ambassador of Spain, the Cardi-
mal of Tournon, Escars, and some other of his flatterers, who persuaded
him, that by his observing a neutrality, and causing the prince, his son,
to go once to the mass, the King of Spain would give him the king-
dom of Sardinia in recompense for that of Navarre, which had lately
been taken from him. The Pope also confirmed him in this hope,
though he was only depriving him of all means for the recovery of the
kingdom of Navarre, whenever he should attempt it. The King, over-
come by these artifices, estranged himself by degrees from the Protest-
ants, and solicited the queen, his wife, to return into the bosom of the
Romish Church, and induce her children to follow her steps. But she,
being better grounded in the truth, than so easily to renounce it, refus-
ed; upon which a breach took place between her and her husband.
The above-mentioned persons seeing this, seized the advantage, and
persuaded him that heresy was a sufficient cause of dissolving marriage,
and that, therefore, he might be divorced from his queen, as she had
imbibed its poison. They also suggested, that notwithsanding his di-
vorce he would retain to himself the possession of all the dominions and
territories belonging to his abdicated queen, of which she, upon the ac-
count of her heresy, would be deprived, as unworthy of them; and
they added, that he should marry Mary, Queen of Scots, whose dowry
they said was the kingdom of England, and of which the Pope, upon
the consummation of the marriage, would strip Elizabeth, as undeserv-
ing of it for the same reason of heresy, and settle it upon them.
But the King of Navarre abhorring a divorce, it remained that he
should accept the conditions for being made King of Sardinia; for
the effecting which, the above counsellors left no methods unattempted,
and at length succeeded so far, that they gulled the King of Navarre,
and set him at variance with the Prince of Conde, Coligni the admiral,
and the other Protestants. The queen his wife, disliking his change
of religion, and his connexion with the popish party, retired to Podium,
in the country of Berne, and there kept her court.
But it pleased Providence, that soon after, at the siege of Orleans,
The King of Navarre was wounded in the shoulder, of which he lan-
guished about three weeks and then died.
The next design of the above-mentioned faction was, to seize upon
the queen, together with her son Henry and her daughter Catherine,
and bring them before the tribunal of the Spanish inquisition. The
conspirators entertained no doubt but that Philip King of Spain would
the more readily fall in with this measure, as it would be so favourable
to the popish religion, of which he boasted himself to be the supporter,
and as all the dispute about the kingdom of Navarre, which he unjustly
detained, would be ended by the extinction of its lawful heirs. They
flattered themselves also, that the project might be easily accomplished
by the King of Spain's soldiers, who lay at Barcelona ready to be trans-
ported intº Africa, and who by the way of the mountains might come
... 34 MEMOIRs of
;
i.
#
tipon and surprise the Queen of Navarre and her children at Podium,
without any warning. One Dominick, a captain, born in the territories
of Berne, was pitched upon to go to the Court of Spain to communicate
these designs to the king, and to receive his instructions. But Provi-
dence so ordered it, that Dominick falling sick by the way, one Annas
Hospius, an honest man, who attended him, learned the cause of his
journey, and, by giving timely notice, prevented the success of the plot,
and saved the Queen of Navarre and her children from the ruin intend-
ed them.
Not long after, in the time of the third civil war on account of reli-
gion, the good queen having raised a considerable force, led them to
Rochelle, together with her son Henry and her daughter Catherine.
From this place she wrote letters to the king, the queen-mother, the
Duke of Anjou, and the Cardinal of Bourbon. To the king she repre-
sented, that, in the common cause of religion, in regard of the duty she
owed him, and her alliance by blood to the Prince of Conde, she could
not be wanting to him upon such an occasion as the present, as she had
always rejected the bloody counsels of the Guisian faction, and espe-
cially the ambition of the Cardinal of Lorraine, from whose friendship
she earnestly dehorted the Duke of Anjou, entreating him not to give
up himself as a minister of his wicked will, in extirpating the royal
family. In her letter to the Cardinal of Bourbon, she sharply reproves
him for not being warned by his former danger. “How long,” says
she, “will you be the suffragan of the Cardinal of Lorraine ! Have
you forgotten the mischievous plots that were laid by him for your life 7
And are you so credulous as to rely upon his oaths, when he swears that
he intends no treachery 'P' &c. But these monitions taking no effect
upon him, the war went on ; and in the battle of Bassac, the Protest-
ants were defeated, and the Prince of Conde was slain. Upon the me-
lancholy news arriving at Rochelle, the Queen of Navarre hasted away
to the Protestant army, where, before a great assembly of nobles and
soldiers, she made a speech to confirm their minds, applauding the vir-
tue and constancy of the Prince of Conde, who had faithfully exerted
himself even to death in the defence of so good a cause, and exhorting
the rest to imitate his example, and to persevere in maintaining the
truth of Christ, and the liberty of their country: “For,” added she,
“the good cause is not dead with the Prince of Conde, neither ought
worthy men to yield to despondency in such cases; God having so pro-
vided for his cause, that he gave Conde companions while he lived, who
may succeed him now he is no more.” “I have brought with me,” said
she, “my only son Henry, who, as he is the heir of Conde's name, so
he is also of his virtues. These, with other nobles, I trust, will never
be wanting in so good a cause.” After this address to the nobles and
army, and many things said in private to her son to put an edge upon
his spirit, she returned to Rochelle to raise new succours.
In the mean time, a commission was granted to Terride, governor of
Quercie, to summon the Queen of Navarre, and the prince her son, to
quit the Protestants, and, in case of refusal, to invade the countries of
Berne, Foix, and Navarre; in which he so far succeeded, that he reduced
all to the king’s obedience except only Navarre, which he besieged, it
being the only strong place which remained to the Queen.
Upon this the Queen and the princes sent the Earl of Montgomery
JANE OF NAWARRE. 35
to engage him, who with a small army of five hundred horse and four
thousand foot obliged Terride to raise the siege, and retire himself to
Ortheze. His men were dispersed ; and to prevent him from collect-
ing them again, the Earl besieged him and forced the town ; and that
he might beat Terride with his own weapons, he turned the cannon
which he found in the town against the castle ; upon which is was sur-
rendered to him. After which, all other places were soon reduced to
the queen’s obedience, and the Earl, having garrisoned the towns of
his new conquest, speedily returned to the princes.
Not long after, peace being concluded between the King and the
Protestants, the King published an edict, in which, among other things,
there is this passage:
“Let it be lawful for the Queen of Navarre, the King's aunt, besides
the benefit which is common to all those who have the highest jurisdic-
tion, to enjoy the free exercise of her religion in the earldoms of Ar-
migniac, Foix, and Bigorre, in one place of all those dominions which
she holds in her own possession, or which may be consigned to her by
the King ; so that all who come to that place, though she herself be
absent, may enjoy it without danger. Moreover, lest any doubt should
arise about his right intention respecting the Queen of Navarre, the
King's aunt, as also the princes of Conde, both father and son, the King
doth declare, that he acknowledges them all for his faithful cousins and
subjects, and that they and all who have managed the wars under them
shall be free, and not bound to render an account for moneys received
or taken,” &c.
But, though the peace was concluded, the malice of the popish party
was not in the least abated; but they sought by policy to effect that
which they could not accomplish by power. For this purpose, Biron
was sent to Rochelle in the King’s name, to treat with the Queen of
Navarre about the marriage between her son Henry and the King's sis-
ter, the Lady Margaret, for which end he invited them to come to court,
where matters might be fully discussed and concluded. He added also,
that hereby a fair occasion was offered from God to settle their affairs in
peace, &c.
The Queen of Navarre having returned her thanks in a set oration,
answered, “That the matter was of that importance that she should
take time to herself to deliberate concerning it; and that, though she
professed and acknowledged that the alliance would be an honour and
advantage to her, yet, that she was for the present doubtful how to act,
on account of the near relation between her son and the lady, and the
difference as to their religions. Wherefore,” said she, “I will consult
with my divines; and what I find may contribute to the glory of God,
and the good of the kingdom, and that may consist with a good con-
science, that I will readily and willingly embrace, being desirous, in all
that I can, to fall in with the pleasure of the King and Queen, to whom
I owe all due deference.”
There were two matters to be settled between the King and Queen
of Navarre, in respect of the place and the manner of the celebration
of the marriage. The Queen was averse from its being done at Paris,
fearing that the city, being extremely addicted to the Romish religion,
was long since an enemy to the family of Navarre, and therefore she
judged it not safe to have the marriage celebrated there. The King,
36 MEMOIRS OF
on the contrary, said, “That it would be a certain sign of sure peace,
to have the marriage celebrated in the metropolis of the kingdom,
which would be, as it were, on a public theatre.” The other difficulty
was about the manner of the celebration, as the Queen of Navarre,
being attached to the Reformed Religion, disliked that the marriage
should be contracted after the popish manner, and the Queen-mother
as much disliked that of the Protestants. But the King entreated the
Queen of Navarre to pardon him in that matter, for that it would tend
to his great dishonour if he should suffer the marriage of his sister to
be solemnized in any other form than according to that ancient religion
which he had received from his forefathers. To remove this difficulty,
time was taken on both sides.
In the mean time, the Queen of Navarre consulted with the ministers
of the Reformed Religion what was to be done in this matter. Some
of them, insisting upon the simplicity of the word of God, said that it
was utterly unlawful for marriages to be contracted in the popish man-
ner, especially by illustrious personages, in whom a compliance would
be more hurtful, because of more public concern. Others, apprehend-
ing that this marriage would be a firm and, as it were, an everlasting
foundation of an happy peace, assented to it.
The Queen of Navarre and the Protestant nobles striving to find out
remedies both for the kingdom, which was grievously distressed, and
for their own impoverished estates, approved the judgment of the last-
mentioned divines, and so the affair proceeded, and the conditions of
marriage were agreed upon by the parties. The King was to give his
sister for her dowry three hundred thousand crowns, each crown being
valued at four and fifty shillings.
About this time, the Queen of Navarre, being zealous to propagate
the Protestant religion in Cantabria, a province of the jurisdiction of
Navarré, sent thither pastors who had learned the country language,
which is understood by almost none of the neighbours, and was before
believed incapable of being written. She took care also that the New
Testament, the Catechism, and the prayers used in the Church of Ge-
neva, should be translated into the Gascoin or Cantabrian tongue,
which she caused to be printed at Rochelle in a most fine letter, and
sent to the Cantabrians.
Upon the earnest solicitation of the King, the Queen of Navarre
went on the March following, anno Christi 1572, from Rochelle to the
court, which was then at Blois, with a great retinue, where it is incredi-
ble to think what a welcome she had on all sides, and especially from
the King and his brothers, who yet, when all was done, could most
treacherously and inhumanly boast to his mother, “Now, madam, have
I not acquitted myself well ? Let me alone, and I will bring them all
into the net.”
In the April following the articles of marriage between the Prince
of Navarre and the King's sister were concluded. In the beginning
of May, the King solicited her to come to Paris, that she might make
suitable preparations for the marriage, to which she at length consent-
ed; and accordingly, on May the 6th, she took her journey from Blois,
and arrived on the 15th at Paris. After which, she went from place to
place in the city into several houses and shops, in order to furnish her-
self with such things as were suitable to adorn the approaching nuptials.
JANE OF NAWARRE. 37
The Queen-mother, in the mean time, who could not endure this
good Queen, but was at a loss for a colourable pretext to despatch her
with the rest she had devoted to destruction, and who feared also the
greatness of her spirit in case she should survive them, and judged it
impossible to work upon the flexibility of the young prince her son, so
long as his mother lived,—the Queen-mother in the mean time used
the most base and wicked stratagem to take away the Queen of Na-
varre's life. She consulted with one Rene, an Italian, who had the art
of poisoning, by whose diabolical assistance she accomplished the hor-
rid purpose of murdering the Queen, who had not the least suspicion
of any danger, and so could not be upon her guard against it. This
Rene sold the Queen of Navarre certain poisoned perfumes, and was
afterwards heard to make his boast of what he had done, and to add
also, that he had the like in store for two or three besides, who sus-
pected nothing of the matter.
By this poison thus conveyed to her, on June the 4th following, the
good Queen fell sick of a continued fever. Upon finding how strong
the disease (though slighted by others) was upon her, and apprehend-
ing that it would end in her death, she prepared herself to receive from
the hand of God, her merciful Father, that stroke which he had ap-
pointed her. Calling her son Henry to her, she commanded him above
all things else, carefully to serve God according to the confession of faith
in which he had been educated, and not to suffer himself to be diverted
from it by the empty pleasures and delights of the world. She charged
him to take care that the constitutions concerning it, which she had pub-
lished in the principality of Berne, and the Lower Navarre, should be in-
violably kept. She exhorted him to purge his family, and banish all evil
counsellors thence, who thought ill of God, as also all flatterers, the
abusers of princes, and all other vicious persons; but that he should
retain with him all good men, as Bellovarius, Francutius, and Batulus,
who were men of unspotted reputation. She recommended to him a
special regard to his sister Catherine, by treating her gently and ten-
derly without bitterness, and causing her to be brought up in the town
of Berne, in the same school of piety in which he himself had been
educated; bidding him, when she was at proper years, to marry her to
a prince of equal dignity, professing the Protestant religion. She also
signified to him that he should love Henry Bourbon, his cousin german,
as his brother, and also Francis, Marquis of Contium, endeavouring to
his utmost power that as great harmony as possible should be maintain-
ed between them and the Admiral Coligni, for the advancement and
promotion of God’s glory. She then made her son her heir, entreating
the King, the Queen-mother, the Duke of Anjou, and the Duke of
Alençon, the King's brothers, to take upon them the protection of the
prince her son, and of Catherine her daughter, and to allow them the
free exercise of their religion.
She next requested that she might have such persons about her who
might comfort her in her sickness from the word of God, and might
also pray with her and for her, according to the direction of the apos-
tle James: “Is any sick among you ! Let him call for the elders of
the church, and let them pray over him, knowing that the prayers of a
righteous man avail much with God.” Accordingly, a minister came
*James, v. 14, 16.
38 MEMOIRS OF
to her, and showed her from the Scripture, “That Christians ought in
all things to submit to the will of God as to the Father of their spirits,
that they might live, and that, though by reason of the sharpness of
his chastisements, they may seem to our flesh as if they were inflicted
for no other end but for our destruction, yet that we ought to consider
that the just God can do nothing but what is just, and that being withal
a merciful Father, he cannot in his corrections but intend the good of
his afflicted children.”
To this discourse of the minister, the Queen replied: “I take all
this as sent from the hand of God my most merciful Father: nor have
I, during this extremity, been afraid to die, much less have I murmured
against God for inflicting this chastisement upon me, knowing that
whatsoever he does, he does so order it, as that in the end it shall turn
to my everlasting good.”
The minister then observed, “That the causes of sicknesses and dis-
eases must be sought beyond the course of physic, which always looks
to the corruption of the humours, or the distemper in the more noble
parts of the body, and that though it is not amiss to have respect to
these things as second causes, yet that we ought to ascend higher,
even to the first cause, God himself, who disposes of all creatures as it
seems good in his sight. He wounds, and he heals, he kills, and he
makes alive, Deut. xxxii. 39. And therefore that we ought to direct
our prayers to him for comfort in all our sorrows and sufferings, and in
the end to expect from him full deliverance, since it is easy with him
to restore our health, if it is agreeable to his will.”
To this speech, the Queen answered, “That she depended wholly
on the Providence of God, knowing that all things are wisely disposed
of by him, and that therefore she besought him to vouchsafe her all
such graces as he saw necessary for her salvation. As for this life,”
said she, “I am in a good measure weaned from it through the afflic-
tions which have followed me from my youth to the present hour, but
especially because I cannot live without offending my God, with whom
I desire to be with all my heart.”
Hereupon the minister remarked, “That long life, how full soever
it may be of troubles, is to be esteemed among the blessings of God,
seeing his promise implies as much ; and not only so, but because our
lives may in many ways promote his glory; and that long life is not
only an honour, but a pledge of the favour of God, even as it is ap
honour and token of special regard to a person whom a prince long
employs in his service, having had experience of his fidelity for many
years.” Hereupon the minister earnestly requested the Queen to pray,
“That if it was the will of God, he would employ her yet longer in
his service for the further spread of his gospel, and that he would grant
her such a recovery of health, and such a good state of body, that with
renewed strength she might be enabled to pursue her course better than
she had done before.” *s *
To this she answered, “That, as to what concerned herself, her life
was not dear unto her, since, so long as she lived in this frail flesh, she
was still prone and apt to sin against God; only,” she said, “she had
a concern for the children whom God had given her, as they would, if
she was now to die, be deprived of her in their early years. Yet,” said
*º-f
she, “I doubt not, though he should see fit to take me from them, but
JANE OF NAWARRE. 39
that he himself will be a Father to them, and a Protector over them, as
I have ever experienced him to be to me in my greatest afflictions; and
therefore I commit them wholly to his government and fatherly care.”
The minister then blessed God for working in her mind this assur-
ance of faith, and this ability to cast her care upon the Divine Provi-
dence, “entreating her still to persevere therein, which would seal to
her the truth of her faith. And thus,” said she, “did the patriarchs
in times past commit the care of their posterity into the hands of God,
as appears by the several blessings of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.”
Upon this the minister observed, “that yet it was very requisite that
she should make choice of such, who, from the purity of their doctrine,
and the holiness of their lives, might continue to water in the young
princes the seeds of piety that had been sown in them by her so great
pains and labour, seeing it was to be hoped that the example of her
faith and constancy in the service of God, in which she had gone be-
fore them, would serve as a perpetual inducement to them to follow
her noble virtues.” She then declared to the minister, “That death
was not terrible to her, because it was the way to pass to her eternal
rest.” The minister hereupon observed, “That Christians had little
cause to fear death, since they should not die, according to what our
Saviour says, that he that lives and believes in me, shall never die,
John, viii. 51: for,” added the minister, “to speak properly, death is
no death to true believers, but a sweet sleep, being often so called in
the Scriptures, and therefore Christ for their sakes hath overcome and
triumphed over death in his own person, so that now we may cry out
with St. Paul, O death ! where is thy sting 7 O gravel where is thy
viotory 4” After this the minister admonished her to make confession
of her sins before God, showing, “that bodily diseases tend to the dis-
solution of nature, and that death is the wages of sin ;” further say-
ing, “ that by this, her chastisement, she might learn what she had
deserved, if God should enter into judgment with her, not only in re-
gard of the fall of our first parents, in which guilt she was involved as
well as others, but also by her own personal sins, seeing that the best
in the world are in themselves but poor, miserable, and wretched sin-
ners; and that, if the Lord should punish us according to our demerits,
we could expect nothing at his hand but eternal death and damnation.”
At these words the Queen, with her hands and eyes lifted up to hea-
ven, began to acknowledge, “That the sins she had committed against
the Lord were innumerable, and therefore more than she could reckon
up ; but yet, that she hoped that God, for Christ's sake, in whom she
put her whole trust, would be merciful to her.”
Hence the minister took occasion to open at large upon what ground
she was to expect the mercy of God in Christ; adding, “That the
whole have no need of a physician, but such as are sick; and that
Christ said, that he came not to call the righteous, but sinners to re-
pentance, and that he is ready to fill the hungry with good things,
while he sends the rich empty away. Of these things,” said he, “you.
ought so much the rather to be persuaded in your conscience, by how
much the more the Spirit of God witnesses to your spirit that you are
the child of God, and enables you to cry, Abba, Father; for what is
faith but a firm trust and assurance of the good will of God manifest-
ed towards us in his blessed Son?”
#
40 MEMOIRS OF
The minister, fearing lest by his long discourse he might be trouble-
some to her, or too much exhaust her spirits, would have given over,
which she taking notice of, earnestly requested him not to forbear
speaking to her about these matters of life and eternal salvation; add-
ing, “That now she felt the want of such discourses, for that, since
her coming to Paris, she had been somewhat remiss in hearing such
exhortations from the word of God; and therefore,” said she, “I am
more glad to receive comfort thence in this my great extremity.”
Upon which the minister endeavoured “to set before her the hap-
piness of heaven, and what those joys were which the saints possess
in the beatific presence of God, which the Scriptures intending to dis-
cover, assure us, that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it en-
tered into the heart of man to conceive, what God hath prepared for
them who love him. For,” saith he, “it is as if a king intending
greatly to honour some noble personage, should bring him to his court,
and there show his state and attendance, his treasures and his most
precious jewels. In like manner the Lord will one day reveal to all
his people his magnificence and glory, with all the riches of his king-
dom, after he has gathered them home to himself, arraying and adorn-
ing them with light, incorruption, and immortality. Therefore,” added
he, “since this happiness is so great, your highness ought to be the
less solicitous about leaving this transitory life, and know that you are
to exchange an earthly kingdom for an heavenly inheritance, these
temporal good things which consume and perish in the using, to enjoy
those things which are incorruptible, and everlasting; for your faith
being firmly fixed upon the Lord Jesus Christ, you may be certain of
obtaining eternal salvation by him.” He then proceeded to propose to
her these questions, “Do you verily believe that Jesus Christ came
into the world to save you ! And do you expect the full forgiveness
of your sins by the shedding of his blood for you?”
“Yes,” replied she, “I do: believing that he is my only Saviour and
Mediator, and I look for Salvation from none other, knowing that he
hath abundantly satisfied for the sins of his people, and therefore I am
assured that God for his sake, according to his gracious promise in him,
will have mercy upon me.”
During all the time of her sickness, she ceased not such edifying
and comfortable discourses; sometimes intermixing them with most
affectionate aspirations to God, as a testimony of the hope and desire
she had of enjoying him ; often uttering these words, “O my God!
in thy due time deliver me from this body of death, and from the mise-
ries of the present life, that I may no more offend thee, and that I may
attain to that felicity, which thou in thy word hast promised to bestow
upon me.” Neither did she manifest her pious affection by words only,
but by her serene and cheerful countenance, so far as the strength of
her disease would allow ; thereby giving a full evidence to all who
beheld her, that no apprehensions of death could unhinge the stead-
fastness of her faith. The minister also often prayed with her.
During the time of prayer she ceased not with hands änd eyes lifted
up to heaven to fetch many sighs, especially when mention was made
of the mercy of God in Christ, which he extends to poor sinners, so
that all who were present might evidently see that her heart and affec-
tions were united in the prayer which was offered for her. And while
#
JANE OF NAWARRE. 41
she thus lay, she continued in her holy desires to depart hence, that
she might be with Christ, taking great delight in the holy and Chris-
tian exhortations which were given her by many godly and learned
men who came to visit her, to whom also she manifested no small tes-
timonies of her faith, and hope in God, as to the salvation of her soul,
by her holy and savoury speeches.
It was observable, that though the Lord exercised her much with the
feeling of her inward disease, yet that there was no word that at any
time fell from her, bordering upon discontent or impatience ; nay,
scarcely did she ever utter so much as a groan.
It may be also added, that, if at any time she found any intermissions
of the violence of her distemper, she declared her willingness to ob-
tain the recovery of her former health, and for that purpose she refused
no proper means prescribed for her by her learned physicians; and that
on the other hand, when she perceived her disease to increase upon
her, and that she grew worse, she showed that she was armed with
an invincible constancy to undergo the utmost that death could do
against her, willingly preparing herself for that last conflict.
When she saw the ladies and gentlemen with her weeping about
her bed, she blamed them for it, saying, “I pray you do not weep for
me, since God doth by this sickness call me hence to the enjoyment of
abétter life, and I am now entering the desired haven towards which this
frail vessel of mine has been so long steering.” She also expressed
her grief that she wanted the opportunity she could have wished to
reward them, and many more of her family and train, who had done
hér faithful service, apologizing for herself to them, and professing that
the not rewarding them according to her mind, did not arise from a
defect of her good will, but from the prevention of her illness. “But,”
said she, “I will not fail to give orders about the matter to the utmost
of my ability.” -
- . In the end, perceiving her strength more and more decaying, she
gave orders for making her last will and testament, and thus settled
her outward estate. On the 8th of June, the day before she left the
world, she called for a minister, and, finding that she was drawing
near her end, she desired him to discourse to her something largely of
the temptations with which Satan is used to assault the people of God
in their-last conflict. -
‘The minister answered her : “Indeed this is the hour in which the
sworn enemy of all the faithful is wont most zealously to bestir him-
self, that; if possible, he may deprive them of the comfort of their sal-
vation, not sparing, especially at that time, to set upon them with might
and cunning; but yet, even then the Lord is not, and will not be want-
ing to his people, filling their hearts with such joy and comfort of the
Holy Ghost, as shall make them in the end more than conquerors.
Satan’s first engine, by which he would drive them to despair, is the
presentation before their eyes of their innumerable sins and pollutions,
with which they have been any way defiled in their whole lives. Next
he presents before them the justice of God, before which none is able
to stand, unless he were pure and spotless; upon which he infers, that
such misèrable sinners can look for nothing but utter death and dam-
nation. But against these assaults we are, as David, in Psalm li. to
set the infinite multitudes of God’s compassions, which surpass the mul-
**
6
42 MEMOIRS OF
titudes of our sins. And as for the justice of God, we confess that no
creature that is polluted with sin can bear to be strictly examined by
it ; but we are to encourage ourselves, that God will never enter into
judgment with those who believe in his Son, but that he imputes to
them that righteousness and obedience which were wrought out by
him, and which are sufficient to oppose to Divine justice; so that in
Christ's righteousness and obedience we are to expect to stand before
God, and not by our own deserts and worthiness. Indeed, if we were
to appear before the tribunal of justice to receive there what we have
merited, we should have good reason to be overwhelmed in utter de-
spair; but turning our eyes upon the Lord Jesus Christ, who being the
eternal Son of God, hath clothed himself with the human nature, to
bear upon himself the punishment that was due to our sins, and who
hath thereby acquitted us, the justice of God does not at all terrify us,
but rather yields us assured comfort, because God being just, cannot
twice require the payment of the same debt. He therefore having re-
ceived full and perfect satisfaction from Christ, whom he hath ordained
to be our Surety, and who hath paid our debts for us, we thence gather
assurance that Godwill no more demand them at our hands. To which
purpose these passages of Scripture are to be well observed; that Christ
hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows; that the chastisement
of our peace was upon him, and that by his stripes we are healed; that
all we like sheep have gone astray, but that the Lord hath laid on him
the iniquity of us all; that Christ is our peace, and the propitiation for
our sins, and that he is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of
the world. On these considerations the justice of God need not terrify
such who believe in Christ, of whose righteousness and redemption
they are made partakers, seeing that Jesus Christ, who knew no sin,
was made sin, that is, an oblation for sin for us, that we might be made
the righteousness of God in him. I grant,” said he, “that this bless-
edness does not belong to all indifferently, but only to such as, believ-
ing in the Son of God, wholly cast themselves upon the merit of his
death and passion, which, as St. Peter declares, is sufficient for their
salvation, Acts, iv. 12; neither is there salvation in any other, for
there is none other name under heaven given among men whereby
we can be saved.” The minister asked the Queen, “Whether she
placed her whole trust and confidence upon Christ crucified, who
died for her sins, and rose again for her justification?” To which
she answered, “That she expected neither salvation, nor right-
eousness, nor life, from any else, but only from her Saviour Jesus
Christ, being assured that his merits alone abundantly sufficed for the
full satisfaction for all her sins, although they were innumerable.”
“This being your faith,” replied the minister, “you cannot come into
condemnation, but are passed from death to life; neither need you to be
afraid of God’s seat of justice, since it is turned into a throne of grace
and mercy to you, and therefore, the hour of death will be exceeding
welcome to you, as death will be a sweet passage into a far better life,
and the time in which all tears shall be wiped away from your eyes.
I beseech you, therefore, madam, think often on that delightful text,
‘Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, for they rest from their
labours, and their works follow them.” Now the time approaches when
you shall enjoy the beatifical vision of God, the society of your Head
JANE OF NAWARRE. 43
and Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, the fellowship of the blessed an-
gels and celestial spirits, with the holy patriarchs, prophets, apostles,
and martyrs for Christ, partaking with them in the same felicity and
glory.” He also added: “Madam, if it should please God by this
your sickness to put an end to this weary pilgrimage of yours, and call
you home to himself, as by some evident signs it appears he will, are
you willing to go to him 'P' To which she answered with much Chris-
tian courage, “With all my heart.” Upon which the minister said,
“Then, madam, open the eyes of your faith, and behold Jesus your
Redeemer, sitting at the right hand of his Father, reaching out his
hand to receive you to himself; are you willing, madam, to go to him 'P’
“Yes, I assure you,” said she, “much more willing than to linger here
below in this world, where I see nothing but vanity.” He then asked her
if they should pray with her, which upon her desire they performed by her,
while the pious lady manifested her ardent affection in calling upon God.
Not long after came in the Admiral Coligni, and with him a minister, to
whom the Queen attended for a considerable time, the minister’s speech
tending to prepare her for her dissolution. When he had finished his
address, he also prayed with her, to which she listened with great atten-
tion. Upon this she requested that these two ministers would continue all
night with herin her chamber, and that they would by no means leave her.
The greatest part of the night was employed in holy advices, which
these ministers gave to the lady one after another; besides which, she
desired them to read to her some chapters of the Holy Scriptures, perti-
nent to her condition; and accordingly they read to her out of St. John’s
Gospel from the fourteenth to the end of the seventeenth chapter. Af-
ter which they prayed with her. Prayer being ended, the Queen de-
sired to take some rest; but it was not long before she bade them read
again. Upon which one of the ministers made choice of some parti-
cular psalms of David, full of ardent and affectionate prayers, suited to
the Queen’s present circumstances, and for a conclusion, read the thir-
ty-first psalm, in which the prophet, among other things, commends
his spirit into the hands of God, because, saith he, “Thou has re-
deemed me, O Lord God of truth !”
The Queen then signified her desire that they would pray with her
again; and thus the greater part of the night was spent in these holy
exercises, during all which time the ministers never discerned in her the
least signs of impatience, notwithstanding the violence of her affliction.
It was also worthy of observation, that whereas immediately before her
sickness she had shown how much she was concerned to provide most
magnificently for the day of her son’s marriage, according as the na-
ture of so grand an alliance required, yet that, as soon as this sickness
had seized upon her, she seemed to have such a total neglect and for-
getfulness of all such matters that she never discovered so much as one
thought about them.” **
. . The night being thus spent by this noble Queen, who persevered in
the expressions of such like affections and ardency of faith, the next
morning, between eight and nine o’clock, she departed this life to take
possession of a far better, sweetly yielding up her spirit into the hands
of God, June 9, anno Christi 1572, and in the 44th year of her age.
She enjoyed her perfect speech and memory even to the hour of her
death, showing not only that staidness and soundness of judgment
44 MEMOIRs of JANE OF NAVARRE.
which she ever had in times past in the care about the salvation of her
soul, but also in the proper settlement of her worldly affairs. *
The King pretended he was greatly afflicted for her death, and went
into mourning, in which also the whole court followed him, lest, as we
may well suppose, by an apparent indifference about her death, their
counsels and future desperate designs might be discovered and prevented.
The good Queen, though taken off by poison, yet seemed to be mer-
cifully housed from the storm which burst upon the protestants on the
24th of August following, the day of the massacre of Paris, which
began a general slaughter of them over the kingdom, in which the
number taken off is computed at an hundred thousand. The horrors
of that night are not to be conceived, much less expressed. The fatal
signal being given by the tolling of the bell of St. Germain, the butch-
ery began. Coligni, the Admiral of France, was murdered in his own
house, his body thrown out of his window, and treated with the vilest
indignities. The murderers ravaged the whole city of Paris, and butch-
ered in three days above ten thousand lords, gentlemen, presidents,
counsellors, advocates, lawyers, scholars, physicians, merchants, trades-
men, and others. Mothers, maidens, and children were all involved in
the destruction; and the gates and entrances of the king’s palace all
besmeared with their blood. And yet, as though this had been the
most heroic transaction, and would shed immortal glory over the au-
thors of it, medals were struck at Paris in honour of it, on the face of
which was the French king sitting on a throne with this inscription,
Virtus in rebelles, “Wirtue against rebels;” and on the reverse, Pietas
excitavit justitiam, “Piety hath roused justice.” And when the news
of this horrible massacre reached Rome, a jubilee was granted, and
the people were commanded to go every where to church, and bless
God for the success of the action ; and it was decreed, the pope should
march with his cardinals to the church of St. Mark, and in the most
solemn manner give God thanks for so great a blessing conferred on
the See of Rome, and on the Christian world. *
We shall close our account of this excellent Queen with a passage
from Bishop Burnet,” in which he says, that “If Jane of Navarre had
had a larger sphere, she was indeed a perfect pattern. Nothing was
ever suggested to lessen her, but that which was her true glory, her
receiving the Reformation. She both received it, and brought her sub-
jects to it. She not only reformed her court, but her whole principal-
ity, to such a degree, that the golden age seemed to have returned under
her ; or rather, Christianity appeared again with the purity and lustre
of its first beginnings. Nor is there one single abatement to be made
her. Only her principality was narrow. Her dominion was so little
extended, that though she had the rank and dignity of a Queen, yet
it looked rather like the shadow than the reality of sovereignty; or
rather it was sovereignty in miniature; though the colours were bright,
it was of the smallest form.” But still may not Mr. Waller's lines,
With a little alteration, be applied to this great and good Queen in her
small domains |
Circles are prais'd, not that abound
In largeness, but th' exactly round:
Such praise they merit, who excel,
Not in wide spheres, but acting well.
* Essay on the Memory of Queen Mary, p. 29.
*
QUEEN MARY.
—w
QUEEN MARY was the daughter of James, Duke of York, afterwards
King James the Second, and the Lady Anne Hyde, daughter of the
Earl of Clarendon. They were privately married at Worcester-House,
September 5, 1660, by Dr. Joseph Crowcher, the duke's chaplain. -
She was born April 30, 1662, and in the sixteenth year of her age,
was married, at St. James’s, November 4, 1677, to William Prince of
Orange, afterwards King William the Third.
She appeared to be most happily disposed from her very birth. She
was good and gentle, before she was capable of knowing that it
was her duty to be so. This temper grew up with her in the whole
progress of her childhood. She might need instruction, but she want-
ed no persuasion. And it is said, that she never once in the whole
course of her education gave any occasion to reprove her. She went
into every thing that was good, often before she knew it, and always
after she once understood it. ^-
She was but growing out of childhood when she went among stran-
gers, and removed from her own countly to Holland ; but she went
under the guard of so exact a conduct, and so much discretion, she
expressed such a gentleness, access to her was so easy, and her deport-
ment was so obliging, her life was such an example, and her charity
was so free, that perhaps no age could furnish a parallel. Never were
there such universal love and esteem paid to any as she received from
persons of all ranks and conditions in the United Provinces. They
were like transport and rapture. The veneration was so profound, that
how just soever it might be, it seemed rather excessive. Neither her
foreign birth, nor regal extraction, neither the diversity of interests or
opinions, nor her want of power and treasure equal to her bounty, di-
minished the respects that were offered her, even from a people whose
constitution gave them naturally a jealousy of too great a merit in those
who are at the head of their government. $
It may well be considered as a very happy event, not only to our
country, but to Christendom itself, that the Princess did not imbibe the
popish religion, the religion sooner or later in life both of her father and
her mother. She was a Protestant upon principle; and when her fa-
ther, then upon the throne of Great Britain, wrote her a letter in favour.
of popery, she returned him an answer, drawn up by herself, to the fol-
lowing purport. “She acquainted him, that she had taken much pains
to be settled in religion; that those of the Church of England who
had instructed her, had freely laid before her that which was good in
the Romish religion, that so, seeing the good and bad of both, she
might judge impartially, according to the apostle's rule of proving all
things, and holding fast that which was good; that though she had
come young out of England, yet, that she had not left behind her
either the desire of being well informed, or the means for it; that she
had furnished herself with books, and had those about her who might
* *
#
ºri

46 MEMOIRS OF
clear any doubts to her; that she saw clearly in the Scriptures that she
must work out her own salvation with fear and trembling, and that she
must not believe by the faith of another, but according as things ap-
peared to herself; that it ought to be no prejudice against the Refor-
mation, if many of them who professed it led ill lives; and if any of
them lived ill, none of the principles of their religion allowed them in
it ; that many of them led good lives, and that more might do it by the
grace of God, but that there were many devotions in the Church of Rome
on which the Reformed could set no value. She acknowledged, that
if there was an infallibility in the Church, all other controversies must
fall to the ground; but that she could never yet be informed where
that infallibility was lodged, whether in the pope alone, or in a ge-
neral council, or in both ; and she desired to know in whom the infalli-
bility rested, when there were two or three popes at a time acting one
against another, with the assistance of councils which they called ge-
neral; for at least the succession was then much disordered. She ob-
served, that as for the authority that is pretended to be given to St.
Peter over the rest, that that place which was chiefly alleged for it,”
was otherwise interpreted by those of the Church of England, as im-
porting only the confirmation of an apostle, when, in answer to that
question, ‘Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me !” he had by a triple
confession washed off his triple denial; that the words which the King
had cited were spoken to (concerning) the other apostles, as well as to
him ;f that it was agreed by all, that the apostles were infallible, who
were guided by God’s Holy Spirit, but that that gift, as well as many
others, had ceased long ago; that St. Peter had no authority over the
rest of the apostles, or otherwise St. Paul understood our Lord’s words
ill, who withstood St. Peter to his face, because be was to be blamed.
And she further took notice, that if St. Peter himself could not main-
tain that authority, she could not see how it could be given to his suc-
cessors, whose bad lives had ill agreed with his doctrine. She also al-
leged, that she did not see why the ill use that some made of the
Scriptures, ought to deprive others of them; that it was true that all
sects made use of them, and found something in them which they drew
out to support their opinions, and yet, that for all this our Saviour bade
the Jews search the Scriptures; and that St. Paul ordered his epistles
to be read to all the saints in the churches; and that in one place he
says, “I write as to wise men, judge what I say ; and if they might
judge an apostle, much more any other teacher. She likewise observ-
ed, that, under the law of Moses, the Old Testament was to be read,
not only in the hearing of the scribes and the doctors of the law, but
likewise in the hearing of the women and children; and that, since God
had made us reasonable creatures, it seemed necessary to employ our
reason chiefly in the matters of the greatest concern ; that, though
faith was above our reason, yet, that it proposed nothing to us that
was contradictory to it; that every one ought to satisfy himself in
these things, as our Saviour convinced Thomas, by making him thrust
his own hand into the print of the nails, not leaving him to the testi-
mony of the other apostles, who were already convinced. She added,
that she was confident that, if the king would hear many of his own
* Matt. xvi. 18. - f Acts, xv. 28.
§
QUEEN MARY. 47
subjects, they would fully satisfy him as to all those prejudices that he
had against the Reformation, in which nothing was acted tumultuous-
ly, but all was done according to law ; that the design of it was only
to separate from the Romish Church, so far as it had separated from
the Primitive Chnrch, in which the Reformers had brought things to
as great a perfection as those corrupt ages were capable of.
“Thus, she concluded, she gave him the trouble of a long account
of the grounds upon which she was persuaded of the truth of her re-
ligion, in which she was so fully satisfied, that she trusted, by the grace
of God, that she should spend the rest of her days in it, and that she
was so well assured of the truth of our Saviour's words, that she was
confident the gates of hell should not prevail against it, but that he
would be with it to the end of the world. All ended thus, that the
religion she professed, taught her her duty to him, so that she should
ever be his most obedient daughter, and servant.” Bishop Burnet tells
us, that he set down very minutely every particular that was in those
letters, that of the King, and this of the Princess, and very nearly
in the same words; and adds, “That he had an high opinion of the
Princess's good understanding, and of her knowledge in these matters,
before he saw this letter; but that the letter surprised him, and gave
him an astonishing joy, to see so young a person, all on the sudden,
without consulting any one person, to be able to write so solid and
learned a letter, in which she mixed with the respect which she had
paid her father, so great a firmness, that by it she cut off all further
treaty ; so that her repulsing the attack that the King had made upon
her with so much resolution and force, let the popish party see that she
understood her religion as well as loved it.”
After the Princess had lived several years in Holland, the ornament
of her sex and station, upon the wonderful success of her husband the
-Prince of Orange, in his great enterprise to rescue our country from
popery and slavery, both which were endeavoured with his utmost
power by James the Second her father, she ascended the throne of
these realms in conjunction with her husband, at the joint invitation of
both Houses of Parliament ; and they were accordingly proclaimed.
King and Queen, February 13, 1688, to the great joy of the nation.
In this step of hers, that might carry a face which, at first appear-
ance, seemed liable to censure, as her father was now King no more,
and herself and husband reigned in his room, she weighed the reasons
on which she went, with a caution and exactness that well became the
importance of them; the bias lying still against that which, to vulgar
minds, seemed to be her interest. She was convinced that the public
good of mankind, the preservation of that religion which she was as-
sured was the only true one, and those real extremities to which mat-
ters were driven, ought to supersede all other considerations. She had
-generous ideas of the liberty of human nature, and of the true ends
of government; she thought it was designed to make mankind safe
- and happy, and not to raise the power of those into whose hands it was
committed, upon the ruins of property and liberty; nor could she think
, that religion was to be delivered up to the humours of misguided prin-
ces, whose persuasion made them as cruel in imposing on their subjects
*Burnet's History of his Own Time, vol. ii. p. 411–414, Edit. of 1815. ' '
* * .
*
º
* † * -
48 MEMOIRS OF
the dictates of others, as they themselves were implicit in submitting to
them. But yet, after all, her inclinations lay so strong to the duty,
that of honouring her father, which nature had put upon her, that she
made a sacrifice of herself in accepting that high elevation of being
queen of these realms, that perhaps was harder to her to bear than if
she had been to be made a sacrifice in the severest sense. She saw
that not only her own reputation might be eclipsed by her taking the
throne, but that religion too might suffer in those reproaches which she
must expect. These considerations were much more with her, than
crowns with all the lustres that adorn them ; but yet, the saving whole
nations determined her in the matter, as her acceptance of the royal
dignity was the only visible means left to preserve the Protestant Reli-
gion, not only in Great Britain, but every where beside.
Though her mind discovered no tincture of enthusiasm, yet she
could not avoid thinking that her preservation during her childhood in
that flexibility of age and, understanding, without so much as one sin-
gle attempt made upon her, was to be ascribed to a special Providence
watching over her. To this she added her early deliverance from the
danger of all temptations, and the advantages she enjoyed afterwards
to employ much privacy in so large a course of study, which had not
been possible for her to have attained, if she had lived in the constant
dissipation of a public court. These things concurring, convinced her
that God had conducted her by an immediate hand, and that she was
raised up to preserve that religion which was then every where in its
last agonies; but yet, when these and many other considerations to
which she had carefully attended, determined her to take the throne,
nature still felt itself loaded. She bore her elevation with the outward
appearance of satisfaction, because she thought it became her not to
discourage others, or give them an occasion to believe that her uneasi-
ness was of another nature than it really was ; but, in the whole mat-
ter, she put a constraint upon herself, that is, upon her temper, (for no
consideration whatsoever could have induced her to have forced her
conscience,) that was more sensible and violent to her than any thing
that could have been wished her by her most virulent enemies.
Her sense of religion and duty not only operated in this great step of
‘life, of such moment to herself, and benefit to the world, but the whole
of her character and behaviour abundantly evinced what an extraordi-
nary piety and virtue possessed her soul. Her punctual exactness not
only to public offices, but to her secret retirements, was so regular, that
it was never put off in the greatest crowd of business, or little journeys;
for then, though the hour was anticipated, the duty was never neglect-
-ed. She took care to be so early on these occasions, that she might
never either quite forget, or very much shorten that devotion upon
which she reckoned that the blessings of the whole day turned. She
observed the Lord’s-day so religiously, that, besides her hours of retire-
ment, she was constantly thrice a day in the public worship of God,
and for a great part of the year four times a day, while she lived be-
yond sea. She was constant to her monthly attendances at the Sacra-
ment of the Lord's Supper, and withdrew herself more than ordinary in
preparation for some days before them. In them, as well as in all the
other parts of the worship of God, an uncommon seriousness ever appear-
ed in her, without one glance allowed for observation. She spreada spirit
QUEEN MARY. 49
of devotion among all who were about her, who could not see so much
in her without being affected in something of the same manner them-
selves, though few attained to such a steady application as they beheld
in her. In her demeanour in the house of God, there was nothing the-
atrical, nothing given to show. Every thing was sincere as well as so-
lemn, and genuine as well as majestic.
Her attention to sermons was so entire, that, as her eye never wan-
dered from a good preacher, so she discovered no weariness at an indif-
ferent one. When she was asked, how she could be so attentive to some
sermons that fell remarkably below perfection, she would answer, “that
she thought it did not become her by any part of her behaviour to dis-
courage, or so much as seem to dislike, one who was doing his best.”
The hardest censure that she passed upon the poorest preachers was,
to say nothing to their advantage; for she never withheld her commen-
dations from any who deserved them. She was not content to be de-
vout herself, but she strove to infuse the same temper into all who came
near her, and chiefly into those whom she took into her more immedi-
ate care, whom she studied to form to religion with all the love and
watchfulness of a mother. She charmed them with her instructions,
and won them with her kindness. Never was mistress both feared and
loved so entirely as she was. She dispersed good books of instruction
to all who were around her, and gave frequent orders that they should
be laid in places of attendance, that such as waited might not be con-
demned to idleness, but might profitably entertain themselves, while
they were in their turns of service.
The raising the reputation and authority of the clergy, as the chief
mean for advancing religion, was that to which she intended to apply
herself with the utmost diligence. She knew that the only true way
to secure this point was, to engage them to be exemplary in their lives,
and abundant in their labours, to watch over their flocks, and to edify
them by good preaching and diligent catechising. She was resolved to
have the whole nation understand, that by these methods only, divines
were to be recommended to favour and preferment. She made it visi-
ble that the steps were to be made by merit, and not by friendship and
importunity. She charged those whom she trusted most in such mat-
ters, to look out for the best men, and the best preachers, that they
might be made known to her. She was under a real anxiety when
church preferments, especially such as were most eminent, were to be
disposed of. She reckoned that the disposition of them was one of the
main branches of her care. When she apprehended that friendship
might give a bias to those whom she allowed to speak to her on those
heads, she told them of it with the authority that became her, and
which they well deserved. She could deny the most earnest solicita-
tions with a true firmness, when she thought the person for whom they
were made did not merit them; for desert was superior with her to all
other considerations. But when she denied applications of this sort,
she did it with so much softness, and upon such good reason, that they
who might be mortified by the repulse, were yet obliged to confess that
she was in the right, even at the time, for the sake of a friend, they
wished for once she had been in the wrong. *
It grieved her to hear in what a condition many of the churches in
England were, which were sunk into such extreme poverty, that it was
7
50 MEMOIRS OF
scarce possible, even by the help of a plurality, to find a subsistence in
them. She had formed a design to bring them all to a just state of
plenty, and to afford a due encouragement to ministers among them. .
But pluralities, and non-residence, when not enforced by real necessity,
were so odious to her, that she determined to throw such perpetual dis-
graces upon them, as should oblige all persons to let go the hold they
had gotten of these cures of souls, over whom they did not watch, and
among whom they did not labour. In a full discourse upon this very
subject, the day before she was seized with her fatal disease, she said,
“She had no great hopes of rectifying matters, but that she was re-
solved to go on, and never suffer herself to be discouraged, or lose heart.
She would still try what could be done, and pursue her design, how
slow or insensible soever the progress might be.”
No intimation was ever let fall before her in any discourse, that of.
fered a probable mean of reformation, which was lost by her ; and she
would call upon persons to turn the motion over and over again, till
she had formed her own thoughts concerning it. It was amazing to
See how well she understood such matters, and how zealous she was
in promoting them.
She rightly judged, that the true end of power, and the best exer-
cise of it, were to do good, and to make the world the better for it. She
often said, that she found nothing in it to make it supportable, not to
say pleasant, besides that consideration ; and she wondered that the
true pleasure which accompanied it, did not engage princes to pursue
it more effectually. Without this, she thought that a private life, with
moderate circumstances, was the happier as well as safer state. When
reflections were once made before her of the sharpness of some histo-
rians, who had left very dishonourable imputations on the memory of
some princes, she answered, “That if those princes were truly such as
their historians represented them, they had well deserved that treat-
ment ; and that others who tread in their steps might look for the
same, for that truth would be told at last, and that with the more...se-
verity of style for being so long restrained.” She observed, “that it
was a gentle suffering for such princes to be exposed to the world in
their true colours, much below what others had suffered at their hands.
She thought that all such sovereigns ought to read Procopius;* for
how much soever he may have aggravated matters, and how unbecom-
ingly soever he may have written, yet, by such books they might see
what would be probably said of themselves, when all terrors and re-
straints should fall off with their lives.” She encouraged those whom
she admitted to frequent access, to lay before her all the occasions of
doing good that might occur to their thoughts, and was always well-
pleased when new opportunities were offered to her, in which she might
exercise that which was the most esteemed by her of all her preroga-
tives. So desirous was she to know both how to correct what might
be amiss, and to promote every good design, that she not only allowed
of great freedom in bringing propositions of that kind to her, but she
charged the consciences of some with a command to keep nothing of
that nature from her, which they thought she ought to be acquainted
with. Nor were such motions ever unacceptable to her, even when
circumstances made it impossible for her to put them in execution.
" An historian who flourished anno Dom, 530.
QUEEN MARY. - 51
She was the delight of all who knew her, by the obliging tenderness
with which she treated all those who came near her. She made the
afflictions of the unhappy easier to them, by the share she took in them,
and the necessities of the miserable the more supportable by the relief
she gave them. She was tender of those who deserved her favour,
and compassionate to those who wanted her pity. It was easy for
her to reward; for all sorts of bounty came readily from her hands;
but it was hard for her to punish, except when the nature of the crime
made mercy become a cruelty, and then she was inflexible not only to
importunity, but to the tenderness of her own disposition.
Her bounty and her compassion had great matter given them upon
which to exert themselves. And how wide soever her sphere may
have been, she rather went beyond, than confined herself within it.
Those worthy confessors and exiles, whom the persecution of France
sent over hither, as well as to the United Provinces, felt the tenderness
as well as the munificence of the welcome she gave them. The con-
fusions of Ireland drove over multitudes of all ranks, who fled hither
for shelter, and were soon reduced to great straits from a state of as
great plenty. Most of these, by her means, were both supported dur-
ing their stay, and enabled to return home after the storm was over.
The largeness of the supplies that were given, and the tender manner
of giving them, made their exile both the shorter and the more tolera-
ble. The miserable among ourselves, particularly such who suffered
by the accidents of war, found a relief in her that was easily obtained,
and was copiously furnished. She would never limit any from laying
proper objects for her charity in her way, nor confine that care to the
ministers who were her almoners. She encouraged all about her, or
who had free access to her, to acquaint her with the necessities under
which persons of true merit might languish : and she never was un-
easy at applications of that kind, nor was her hand ever scanty, when
the person was worthy, or the extremity great. She was regular and
exact in this her bounty. She found that even a royal treasure,
though dispensed by a hand that was yet more royal, could not an-
swer all demands; for which reason she took care to have a just ac-
count both of the worthiness and the necessities of those who were
candidates for her liberality, and in the conducting of her charity
showed as great an exactness, and as attentive a regard, as much me-
mory, and as much diligence, as if she had no cares of an higher na-
ture lying upon her. But what crowned all, was her exact conformity
to the rule of the gospel in her munificence, so that none knew to
whom, or what she gave, but those whom she was forced to employ in
the communication of her bounty. When it was to fall on persons
who had access to her, her own hand was the conveyance. What
went through other hands, was charged on them with an injunction of
secrecy; and she herself was so far from speaking of her charities,
that, when some persons were mentioned as objects, who had been al-
ready named by others, and relieved by herself, she would not let
those who spake to her understand that any thing had been done; but
either she let the matter pass over in silence, or, if the necessity was
represented as heavier than she had apprehended it, a new supply was
given, without so much as an hint of what had gone before.
The piety of this excellent person, as it was a noble support to her
N.
52 MEMOIRS OF
under some kinds of trouble, so it gave the sharper edge to others. The
deep sense she had of the judgments that seemed to be hanging over
the nation, often broke out in many sad strains to those to whom she
gave a free vent to her thoughts. The impieties and blasphemies, the
open contempt of religion, and the scorn of virtue, which she heard of
from so many hands, and in so many different parts of the nation, gave
her a secret horror, and presented her with such a black prospect, as
filled her with melancholy reflections. She was the more sensibly
touched, when at any time she heard that some who pretended to much
zeal for the Crown and the Revolution, seemed thence to think they
had some sort of right to be indulged in their licentiousness and irre-
gularities. She often said, “Can a blessing be expected from such
hands, or on any thing that must pass through them 'P' She longed
to see a set of men of uprightness and probity, of generous tempers
and public spirits, in whose hands the concerns of the crown and peo-
ple might be lodged with reasonable hopes of success, and a blessing
from heaven on their services. She had a just esteem of all persons
whom she found truly religious and virtuous; nor could any other con-
siderations weigh much with her when these excellencies were not to
be found. Next to open impiety, the want of heat and life in those
who pretended to religion, and the deadness and disunion of the Pro-
testants in general, very sensibly affected.her ; and she often said, with
feeling and cutting regret, “Can such dry bones live P’ When she
heard what crying sins abounded in our fleets and armies, she gave
such directions as seemed practicable, to those who she thought might
in some measure correct them; and she gave some in very eminent
stations to understand, that nothing could both gratify, and even oblige
her more, than that care should be taken to stop those growing disor-
ders, and to reduce things to the seriousness and sobriety of former
times. The last great project that her thoughts were working upon,
with relation to a noble and royal provision for maimed and decayed
seamen, was particularly designed to be so constituted, as to put them
in a probable way of concluding their days in the fear of God. . It gave
her a sensible concern to hear that Ireland was scarce emerged from its
abyss of miseries, before it was returning to the levities, and even to
the abominations of former times. She took particular methods to be
well informed of the state of our plantations, and of those colonies that
we have among infidels. But it was no small grief to her to hear, that
those colonies were but too generally a reproach to the religion by which
they were named. She gave a willing ear to a proposition that was
made for erecting schools, and the founding of a college among them.
She considered the whole scheme of it, and the endowment which was
desired for it. It was a noble one, and was to rise out of some branches
of the revenue, which made it liable to objections; but she took care
to consider the whole matter so well, that she herself answered all ob-
jections, and espoused it with such an affectionate concern, that she di-
gested and prepared it for the King. And as she knew how large a
share of zeal his majesty had for good projects, she took care also to
give him the largest share of the honour of them. Nor, indeed, could
any thing inflame her more than the prospect of advancing religion, es-
pecially where there were hopes of working upon infidels. *
Her concern and charity were not limited to that which might seem
QUEEN MARY. 53
to be her peculiar province, and was more especially put under her care.
The foreign churches had also a liberal share of her regard and munifi-
cence. She was not insensible of the kindness of the Dutch : she re-
membered it always with a tender gratitude, and was heartily touched
with their interests. The refugees of France were considered by her
as those whom God had sent to sit safe under her shadow, and to be
made easy through her favour. Those scattered remains of our Pro-
testant brethren, that had been hunted out of their valleys in Pied-
mont, were again brought together by their majesties’ means. It was
the King's powerful intercession that restored them to their seats as
well as to their edicts; and it was the Queen’s charity that formed
them into bodies, and opened the way for their enjoying those advan-
tages, and transmitting them down to succeeding ages. She took care
also for preserving the little that was left of the Bohemian churches.
She formed nurseries of religion in some of those parts of Germany
which were exhausted by war, and were disabled from carrying on the
education of their youth, that they might secure to the next age the
faith which they themselves professed.
If we consider the subject of our memoirs more particularly as a
Queen, and sometimes at the head of government, we shall be struck
with admiration, and shall behold her on a summit of greatness, in
which she appeared with the highest glory to herself, and the greatest
benefit to her people. She was punctual to her hours, patient in her
audiences, gentle in commanding, prudent in speaking, cautious in
promising, soft in reprehending, ready in rewarding, and diligent in
ordering ; and she had an ear open to all that was suggested to her.
That there might be a fulness of leisure for every thing, the day was
early begun. Nothing was done in haste. There were no appearances
of hurry or impatience. Her devotions, both private and public, were
not shortened, and yet, she found time enough for keeping up the
cheerfulness of a court, and the admission of all persons to her, whom
it was proper for her to receive. She was not so entirely possessed by
the greatest cares that she forgot the smallest.
If any thing was ever found in her that might seem to fall too low, it
was that her humility and modesty really depressed her too much in
her own eyes, and that she might too soon be made to think that the
reasons which were offered to her by others were better than her own.
But this diffidence only took place in such matters in which the want
of practice might make a modest distrust seem more reasonable, and
when she saw nothing in what was before in which conscience had
any share ; for, whensoever that appeared, she was firm and im-
moveable.
Her administration of public affairs had a peculiar felicity attending
it. There was somewhat in her that disarmed many of her enemies.
When they came near her, they were soon conquered by her; while
the wisdom and secrecy of her conduct defeated the designs of such of
her adversaries who were restless and implacable. The nation seemed
once, while she was at the helm, to be much exposed. Unprosperous
events at sea afforded the French the appearance of a triumph. They
lay along the British coasts, and were some time masters of the British
seas. But a secret guard seemed to environ our country. All the
54 MEMOTRS OF
harm that our enemies did us in one instance of barbarity,” which might
-show what our general treatment might probably have been, if we had
become their prey, was but small, and seemed rather permitted by Hea-
ven to unite the nation against them. The people lost no courage by
it. Their zeal was the more inflamed. This was the Queen's first essay
of government; in which she, who upon ordinary occasions was not out
of countenance to own a fear that did not misbecome her, now, when a
visible danger threatened her, showed a firmness of mind, and composure
of behaviour, that made even men of the greatest courage ashamed of
...themselves. She covered the inward apprehensions she had with such
an equality of conduct, that she seemed afraid of nothing, when she had
reason to fear the worst that could happen. She was resolved, if things
should have proceeded to extremities, to have ventured herself with her
people, and either to have saved them, or to have perished with them.
This was such a beginning of the exercise of royal power, as might for
ever have given her a disgust of it; but she appeared all the time to
possess her soul in patience, and to live in a constant resignation of her-
self to the will of God, without any anxiety concerning events. The
happy news of the signal victory at the Boyne, where King James’s army
was routed by King William's, and the preservation of his majesty’s per-
son from the surest instruments of death, which seemed to be sent with
that direction that it might show the immediate watchfulness of Provi-
dence about him, soon reversed the scene, and put another face on public
affairs. The Queen only seemed the least changed. She looked more
cheerful, but with the same tranquillity. The appearances of it had
never left her. Nor was it a small addition to her joy, that her father,
for whom she still retained profound regard, was preserved.t Though
she was no part of the cause of the war, yet she would willingly have
sacrificed her own life to have preserved either of those lives (her hus-
band's or father's,) who were in danger. She spoke of that matter two
days after the intelligence came, with so tender a sense of the goodness
of God to her, that it drew tears from her eyes; and then she freely
confessed, “that her heart had trembled, not so much from the appre-
hension of the danger that she herself was in, as from the scene that
was then in action at the Boyne; that God had heard her prayers, and
she blessed him for it, with as sensible a joy as for any thing that had
ever happened to her.”
The next season of her administration concluded the reduction of
Ireland. The expectations of success there were once so much sunk,
* The French fleet, (says Bishop Burnet, History of his Own Time, vol. iii. p. 69, edit.
1815, after he had related the unsuccessful engagement our fleet had with it near Beachy, in
Sussex, in the year 1690) lay for some days in Torbay; but before they sailed, they made a
descent on a miserable village called Timmouth, that happened to belong to a papist. They
burnt it, and a few fisher-boats that belonged to it, but the inhabitants got away; and as a
body of militia was marching thither, the French made great haste back to their ships. The
French published this in their gazettes with much pomp, as if it had been a great trading
town, that had many ships, with some men of war in port. This both rendered them ridicu-
lous, and served to raise the hatred of the nation against them, for every town on the coast
saw what they must expect if the French should prevail.
fTheEarl of Nottinghamtold me, that when he carried the news to the Queen, and acquaint-
ed her in a few words that the King was well, that he had gained an entire victory, and that
the late Kin had escaped, he observed her looks, and found that the last article made her joy
complete, which seemed in some suspense, till she understood that.—BURNET's History of his
Oum, Time, vol. iii. p. 70. edit. 1815.
QUEEN MARY. 55.
that it seemed that that island was to be yet, for another year, the field
of blood, and an heap of ashes. The good Queen laid the blame of this,
in a great measure, on the licentiousness and other disorders that she
heard had rather increased then abated among them. A sudden turn
came from a bold but necessary resolution, which was executed as gal-
lantly as it was generously undertaken ; and in the face of a great army,
an handful of men passed the river Shannon, forced Athlone, and
made the enemy to retire in haste. A great victory followed a few days
after, that of General Ginkle over St. Ruth, at Agrem : from which
time success was less doubtful. All was concluded with the happy
reduction of the whole island. The reflections the Queen made on
this happy event, were of the same tincture with that of all her
thoughts, namely, that our forces elsewhere, both at sea and land, were
thought to be considerable, and so promising that we were in great
hopes of somewhat that might be decisive | only Ireland was apprehend-
ed to be too weakly furnished for a concluding campaign ; “yet, so dif-
ferent,” said she, “are the methods of Providence from human expecta-
tions, that nothing memorable happened any where except in Ireland,
where little or nothing was expected.”
She was again in the administration of affairs when the nation was
threatened with a descent and an invasion, which was conducted with
that secrecy that the kingdom was in danger of being surprised by it,
when the preparations at sea were not finished, and the force by land
was not considerable. The struggle was like to have been formidable,
and there was a particular violence to be done to herself by reason of
him, her father, who was to have conducted it. A long uninterrupted
continuance of boisterous weather, that came from the point that was
most contrary to the designs of our enemies, made the project impracti.
cable. A succession of changes of weather followed after, as happily
to ourselves, and as fatal to our foes. The same wind that stopped
their fleets, joined ours. The wind went not out of that direction till
it ended in one of the most glorious actions that England ever saw ;
that of the victory ever the French fleet, by Admiral Russel, at La
Hogue, in the year 1692, when those, who were brought together to in-
vade our kingdom, were forced to be the melancholy spectators of the de-
struction of the best part of their fleet, on which all their hope was placed.
The Queen bore success with the same decency in which she appear-
ed when affairs were perplexed and clouded. So firm a situation of
mind as she had, seemed to be in a good measure above the power of any
events whatever. - A t
So far was she from entertaining an high opinion of herself, that she
had a tender sense of every thing that looked like a miscarriage under
her conduct, and was aſcaid lest some mistake of hers might have oc-
casioned it. When difficulties grew too great to be surmounted, and
she felt an uneasiness in them, she made God her refuge, and she often
owned that she found a full calm upon her thoughts, after she had
given them a free vent before him in prayer. . . . . . .
When melancholy events came from the immediate hand of Heaven,
particularly a great loss at sea, she said, “That though there was no
occasion for complaint or anger upon these cross events, yet, there was
a juster cause of grief, since God’s hand was to be seen so particularly
in them.” Sometimes she feared there might be some secret sins at
56 MEMOIRS OF
the root, and blast all ; but she soon went off from that, and said,
“That where so much was visible, there was no need of divination con-
cerning that which might be hidden.” *
When the sky grew clearer, and in her more prosperous days, as we
have before observed, she was never lifted up. A great resolution was
taken, which not only asserted a dominion over those seas which Great
Britain claimed as her own, but assumed a more extensive empire, by
our becoming masters both of the Ocean and the Mediterranean, hav-
ing our enemies’ coasts as well as the seas open to us. The Queen
had too tender an heart to take any real satisfaction in the destruction
of any of her enemies' towns, or in the ruin of their poor and innocent
inhabitants. She spake of such proceedings with true indignation
against those who had begun such practices, even in full peace, or after
protections had been given. She was sorry that the state of war made
it necessary to restrain another prince from such barbarities, by mak-
ing himself feel the effects of them ; and therefore she said, “She
hoped that such practices should become so odious in all that should
begin them, and by their doing so force others to retaliate, that for the
future they should be for ever laid aside.”
In her brightest seasons she grew not secure, nor did she withdraw
her dependence upon God. In all the pleasures of life, she maintained
a true indifference as to the continuation of them ; and she seemed to
think of parting with them in so easy a manner, that it plainly appeared
how little possession they had got of her heart. She had no occasion
for these thoughts from any other principle but a mere disgust of this
life, and the aspiration of her soul to a better. She apprehended she
felt once or twice such indispositions upon her, that she concluded na-
ture was working toward some great sickness, and accordingly she set
herself to take full and broad views of death, that hence she might
judge how she should be able to encounter her enemy. But she found
so quiet an indifference upon the prospect, leaning rather toward the de-
sire of a dissolution, that she said, “That though she did not pray for
death, yet, she could neither wish nor pray against it. She left that before
God, and referred herself to the disposal of Providence. If she did not
wish for death, yet she did not fear it.”
. As this was her temper when she viewed death at some distance, so
she maintained the same calm when in the closest struggle with it. In
her sickness, that of the small-pox, she only was serene when all was in
a storm about her. The dismal sighs of all who came near her, could
not discompose her. She was rising so fast above mortality, that even
her husband, who was more to her than all the world besides, and to all
whose thoughts she had been upon every other occasion entirely resigned
could not now inspire her with any desires of returning back to life. Her
mind seemed to be disentangling itself from her body, and so she rose
above that tenderness which had a greater influence upon her than all
other earthly things whatever. It seemed, indeed, that all that was
mortal was falling off, when even that could give her no uneasiness.
She received the intimations of approaching death, with a firmness that
neither bent nor softened under that which has made the strongest
minds tremble. Then, when even the most artificial grow sincere, when
the mask of hypocrisy drops and opens the full soul to view, it appeared
what a perfect calm, and how sublime a piety possessed her. A ready
QUEEN MARY. . 57
willingness to be dissolved, and an entire resignation to the will of God,
did not seem to forsake her so much as one minute; nor had any thing
been left to be despatched by her in her last hours. Her mind was in
no hurry, but soft as the small voice that seemed to be calling her soul
away to the regions above; so that she made her last steps with a sta-
bility and seriousness that, how little ordinary soever they be, were,
indeed, the correspondent harmonious conclusions of such a life as she
had led. In her heavy disease, she felt no inward depression nor sink-
ing of nature. She then declared, “ that she experienced the joys of
a good conscience, and the power of religion giving her supports which
even the last agonies could not shake.” Her constant gentleness to all
about her never left her. That was indeed natural to her; but, by its
continuance with her in her sickness, all visibly perceived that nothing
could put her mind out of its natural situation and usual state. A few
hours before she breathed her last, when he who ministered to her in
the best things had continued in a long attendance about her, she was
so free in her thoughts, that, apprehending he might be weary, she com-
manded him to sit down, and repeated her orders till he obeyed them; a
thing too trifling in itself to be mentioned, but that it discovered her
presence of mind, as well as the sweetness of her disposition. Prayer
was then her constant exercise, as often as she was awake : and so
sensible was the refreshment that her mind found in it, that she said she
thought it did her more good, and gave her more ease, then any thing that
was done to her. Nature sank apace. She received the blessed Sacrament
with a devotion that inflamed as well as melted all who saw it. That
being over, she gave up herself so entirely to meditation, that she
seemed scarce to regard any thing beside. She was then upon the
wing. Such was her peace in her latter end, that though the symptoms
showed that nature was much oppressed, yet she scarce felt any un-
easiness. It was only from what she perceived was done to her, and
from those intimations that were given her, that she judged her life to
be in danger; but she scarce knew herself to be sick by any thing that
she felt at heart. Her bearing so much sickness with so little emotion,
was for a while imputed to that undisturbed quiet and patience in which
she possessed her soul. But when she repeated it so often, that she felt
herself well inwardly, it then appeared that there, was a particular
blessing in so easy a conclusion of a life that had been led through a
great variety of events, with a constant equality of temper. And thus
this most excellent Princess put off mortality, and passed from an earthly
to an heavenly crown, a crown of glory that shall never fade away.
The above account of this most amiable woman, is, for substance,
extracted from Bishop Burnet’s Essay on her Memory, who had more
than common advantages of knowing her, first in Holland, and after-
wards in England, who has not been reckoned an historian by any means
redundant in his praises, and who declares that he said nothing but
what he knew to be strictly true, without the enlargement of figure or
rhetoric.” That we might do full justice to the character of the Queen,
or at least make our best attempts for the purpose, we shall collect from
the same writer, from Dr. Edward Fowler, Bishop of Gloucester,
and from Dr. William Bates, an eminent non-conformist minister, who
*Burnet's History of his Own Time, vol. iii. p. 177, edit. 1815.
55 MEMOIRS OF
preached a sermon on her death, some further memorials and descrip-
tions of this very extraordinary person.
In most people, even those of the truest merit, a studied management
will sometimes appear, with a little too much varnish, like a nocturnal
piece that has a light cast through even the most shaded parts: some
dispositions to set one’s self off, and some satisfaction in being commend-
ed, will at some time or another show itself more or less. All persons
who had the honour to approach the Queen, and particularly such as
were admitted to the greatest nearness and the most constant attend-
ance, never discovered any thing of this nature in her. When due
acknowledgments were made, or decent things were said upon occa-
sions that well deserved them, they seemed scarce to be heard. They
were so little desired, that they were presently passed over, without so
much as an answer that might seem to entertain the discourse, even
when it checked it. She went off from it to other subjects, as one who
could not bear it. In her were seen the most active zeal for the public,
and a constant delight in doing good, joined with such unaffected humi-
lity and indifference to applause, that the most critical observers could
never see reason to think, that the secret flatteries of vanity or self-love
wrought inwardly, or had any power over her.
An open and native sincerity, which appeared in genuine characters,
in a manner quite free and unconstrained, easily persuaded all who
were about her that all was uniform and consistent, and was at the
same time united with a charming behaviour, a most amiable sweet-
mess, and the sprightliness as well as the freedom of a true good hu-
mour. A fresh and graceful air, more turned to seriousness, but always
serene, that dwelt upon her looks, discovered both the perfect calm
within, and showed the force as well as the loveliness of those principles
which were the springs of so cheerful a temper, and so lively a deport-
Iment.
The freedom of cheerfulness is not always under an exact command.
It will make escapes from rules, and be apt to go too far, and to forget
all measures and bounds. It is seldom kept under a perpetual guard.
The openness of the Queen’s behaviour was subject to universal ob-
servation; but yet, it was under that regularity of conduct, that they
who knew her best and saw her oftenest could never discover her
thoughts or intentions, further than as she herself had a mind to let
them be known. No half word or change of look, no forgetfulness, or
career of discourse, ever drew any thing from her further or sooner
than she designed it. This caution was managed by her in so peculiar
a way, that no distrust was shown in it, nor distaste given by it. It
appeared to be no other than that due reserve which became her eleva-
tion, and suited those affairs which were to pass through her hands.
When she saw reason for it, she had the truest methods to oblige others
to use all becoming freedom with herself, while at the same time she
kept them at a proper distance from her own thoughts.
She would never borrow any assistance from those arts, which are
so common to great stations, that some, perhaps, may imagine them
necessary. She did not cover her purposes by doubtful expressions,
of such general words as, taken strictly, signify little, but in common
use are understood to import a great deal more. As she would not de-
ceive others, so, she avoided the saying of that which might give them
QUEEN MARY. 59
an occasion to deceive themselves; and when she did not intend to
promise, she took care to explain her meaning so critically, that it might
be understood that no construction of a promise was to be made from
general words of favour. In a course of several years, and of many
turns, when great temptation was given for more artificial methods, and
when, according to the maxims of the world, great advantage might
have been made of them, yet, she maintained her sincerity so entirely,
that she never once needed explanations to justify either her words or
actions.
What was good and what was great in human nature were so equally
mixed, and both shone with such a full brightness in her, that it
was hard to tell in whether of the two she was the more eminent.
. She maintained that respect that belonged to her sex without any
of those mixtures, which, though, generally speaking, they do not much
misbecome it, yet seem a little to lessen it. She had a courage that
was resolute and firm, mingled with a mildness that was soft and at-
tracting. She had in her all the graces of her own sex, with all the
greatness of the other. If she did not affect to be a Zenobia, or a Boadicea,
it was not because she was destitute of their courage, but because she
understood the decencies of her sex better than they did. A desire of
power, or an eagerness of empire, were things so far below her, though
they generally pass for heroical qualities, that perhaps the world never
yet beheld so great a capacity for government joined with so little
affection to it; so unwilingly assumed, so modestly managed, and so
cheerfully laid down.
She was distinguished for a clearness of apprehension, a presence of
mind, an exactness of memory, a solidity of judgment, and a correctness
of expression. No one took things sooner, or retained them longer. No
one judged more truly, or spoke more exactly. She wrote clear and
short, with a true beauty and force of style. She discovered a supe-
riority of genius, even in the most trifling matters, which were con-
sidered by her only as amusements, and so gave no occasion for deep
reflections. A happiness of imagination, and a liveliness of expression,
appeared upon the commonest subjects on a sudden, and in the great-
est variety of accidents. She was quick, but not hasty: and even with-
out the advantages which her rank gave her, she had an exaltation of
mind, which subdued as well as charmed all who came near her.
A quickness of thought is often superficial. It easily catches, and
sparkles with some lustre; but it lasts not long, nor does it strike deep.
In the Queen, a bright vivacity was joined with an exploring diligence.
Her age and her rank had denied her opportunities for much study ; yet,
she had made no inconsiderable advances in knowledge, having read
the best books in the three languages, (English, Dutch, and French,)
that were almost equally familar to her. She gave the most of her
hours to the study of the Scriptures, and of books relating to them.
She had an uncommon understanding in matters of divinity; and par-
ticularly she had so well considered our disputes with the Church of
Rome, that she was capable of managing debates in them with equal
degrees of address and judgment. *
Next to the best subjects, she bestowed much of her time on books of
history, principally of the later ages, particularly those of her own king:
doms, as being the most proper to afford her useful instruction. She was
60 MEMOIRS OF
a good judge as well as a great lover of poetry. She liked it best, when
it was employed on the best subjects. So tender she was of poetry,
though much more of virtue, that the prostitution of the Muses among
us gave her a more than ordinary concern. She made some steps to the
understanding of philosophy and mathematics, but she stopped soon ;
only she went far in natural history and perspective, as she was also very
exact in geography. Upon the whole, she studied and read more than
could be imagined by any who had not known how many of her hours
were spent in her closet. She would have made a much greater pro-
gress, if the frequent returns of ill humours on her eyes had not compell-
ed her to spare them. Her very diversions gave indications of a mind
that was truly great. She had no relish for those lazy entertainments,
if they may deserve the name, that are the too common consumers of
most people’s time, and that make as great waste on their minds as they
do on their fortunes. If she sometimes used them, she made it visible it
was only in compliance with forms, because she was unwilling to offend
others with too harsh a severity. She gave her minutes of leisure with
the greatest willingness to architecture and gardening. She had a fruit-
fulness of invention, with a felicity of contrivance, that had airs in them
which were nobler than what was more stiff, though it might be more
regular. She knew that these things drew an expense after them; but
she had no inclinations beyond these to any diversions that were costly;
and, since these employed many hands, she was pleased to say, “That
she hoped it would be forgiven her.”
When her eyes were endangered by reading too much, she betook
herself to the amusement of work ; and in all those hours that were not
given to better employment, she wrought with her own hands, and that,
sometimes, with as constant a diligence as if she had been to earn her
bread by her labour. It was a new thing, and looked like a sight, to
see a Queen work so many hours a day. But she considered idleness
as the great corrupter of human nature, and believed that if the mind
had no employment given it, it would create some of the worst sort to
itself; and she thought that any thing that might amuse and divert,
without leaving any ill effects behind, ought to fill up those vacant hours
that were not claimed by devotion or business. Her example soon
wrought not only on those who belonged to her, but upon the whole town,
to follow it; so that it became, in her time, as much the fashion to work
as it had been to sit idle. In this particular, which seemed to be no-
thing, and was made, by some, a subject of raillery, a greater step was
taken than, perhaps, every one was aware of, to the bettering the age.
While the Queen thus diverted herself with work, she took care to give
an entertainment to her own mind, as well as to those who were admitted
to the honour of working with her. One was appointed to read to therest;
the choice was suited to the time of the day and the employment: some
book or poem that was lively as well as instructive. Few of her sex, not
to say of her rank, gave ever less time to dressing, or seemed less cu-
rious about it. Those parts of it which required more patience, were not
given up entirely to it. She read often all the time herself, and gene-
rally aloud, that those who served about her might be the better for it.
When she was indisposed, another was called to do it. The whole was
mixed with such pleasant reflections of her own, that the gloss was often
better than the text. An agreeable vivacity diffused that innocent cheer-
QUEEN MARY. 61
fulness among all about her, that whereas, in most courts, the hours of
strict attendance are the heaviest part of the day, they were, in hers, of
all others, the most delightful.
Her cheerfulness might well be termed innocent, for none was ever
hurt by it. No natural defects, nor real faults, were ever the subjects of
her mirth; nor could she bear it in others if their wit happened to glance
that way. She thought it a crueland barbarous thing to be merry at other
people’s cost, or to make the misfortunes or follies of others the matter
of diversion. She scarce ever expressed a more entire satisfaction in any
sermon that she had heard, than in that of Archbishop Tillotson against
evil-speaking. When she thought some were guilty of it, she would ask
them if they had read that sermon. This was understood to be a repri-
mand, thought in the softest manner. She had, indeed, one of the
blessings of virtue, but which does not always accompany it; for she
was as free from censures as she was far from deserving them. When
reflections were made on this her felicity, she said, “That she ascrib-
ed it wholly to the goodness of God to her; for she did not doubt but
that many fell under hard censures that deserved them as little.” She
also gave the matter this further turn, “That God knew her weakness,
and that she was not able to bear some imputations, and therefore he
did not try her beyond her strength.” In one respect, she intended never
to provoke censure. She was conscientiously tender of wounding others,
and said, “She hoped God would still bless her in her good name as
long as she was careful not to hurt others.” But, as she was exact in
not wronging any other while she diverted herself, so, upon indifferent
subjects, she had a spring of cheerfulness in her that was never to be ex-
hausted: it never sunk by repetition, nor degenerated into a forced mirth.
Dr. Bates’s character of the Queen may be considered as an abridg-
ment, not without some very acceptable additions, of what has been
already more diffusively said concerning her. There is an elegance and
beauty in his thoughts and language, that cannot fail to give pleasure
to our readers. g
“The descent of our Queen was royal ; but this is only an external
circumstance, and derives no moral virtue to a person. The splendour
of extraction, like warnish in a picture, that gives more life and lustre
to the colours, makes the virtues or the vices of a person more conspi-
CUiOUIS.
“Her body was the beautiful temple of a fairer soul.” Her graceful
presence inspired reverence and love in those who saw her, and appear-
ed worthy of empire. But we have much greater things to speak con-
cerning her.
“I shall begin with her piety towards God. This is the first duty of
man in order and dignity, and the most considerable in its conse-
quences. It is the foundation of all royal virtues. In the public wor-
ship of God, she was a bright example of solemn and unaffected devo-
tion. She prayed with humble reverence, heard the word with respect-
ful silence, and with serious application of spirit, as duly considering
*Mr. Boyer gives this more particular description of her. “Her person was tall, and well-
roportioned. Her shape, while Princess of Orange, easy and genteel; her complexion light
É. her visage oval; her eyes quick and lively; and the rest of her features regular. Her
stately port and native air of greatness commanded respect from the most confident; but her
sweet and graceful countenance tempered the awfulness of majesty, and her affable temper
encouraged the most timorous to approach her.” * !
63 MEMOIRS OF
the infinite interval between the Supremacy of Heaven and princes on
earth ; that their greatness in its lustre is but a faint and vanishing re-
flection of the Divine Majesty. One instance I shall specify in this kind.
When her residence was at the Hague, a lady of noble quality coming
to the court to wait on her on a Saturday, in the afternoon, was told she
was retired from all company, and kept a fast in preparation for the re-
ceiving the Sacrament the next day. The lady staying till five o’clock,
the Princess came out, and contented herself with a very slender supper, it
being incongruous to conclude a fast with a feast. Thus solemnly she
prepared herself for spiritual communion with her Saviour. When Mo-
ses was surprised by the sight of the burning-bush, and intended to
come near to it, he was warned by a voice from heaven, “Draw not
nigh hither : put off thy shoes from thy feet, for the place whereon
thou standest is holy ground.” By the familiar figure of putting off
the shoes is signified the purifying ourselves from all defilements. And
certainly, the presence of the Son of God is more peculiar in that sacred
mysterious ordinance, than it was in the burning-bush : accordingly,
we should sanctify ourselves, and approach with holy fear.
“Her religion was not confined to the chapel, but every day she had
chosen hours for communion with God, of which He is the only discerner
and rewarder. Some who are high in the world, think it sufficient
to pay a complimental visit to God once a week, and content themselves
with the external service, though destitute of holy affections, which
are the life of religion; or, at best, are satisfied with a few expiring
acts of devotion. But the good Queen’s conversation was in heaven.
She was constant in those duties in which the soul ascends to God in
solemn thoughts and ardent desires, and God descends into the soul by
the excitations and influences of his Spirit.
“Her religion was not only exercised in divine worship, but was in-
fluential in practice. The law of God was written in her heart, and
transcribed in her life, in the fairest characters.
“She had a sincere zeal for the healing of our unhappy divisions in
religious things, and declared her resolution, upon the first address of
some ministers, that she would use all means for that blessed end. She
was so wise as to understand the difference between matters doctrinal
and ritual; and so good as to allow a just liberty for dissenters in things
of small moment. She was not fettered with superstitious scruples;
but her clear and free spirit was for the union of Christians in things es-
sential to Christianity. The holiness of her life was universal. She
was born and lived in a court, that shines in pomp, and flows in plea-
sures, and presents charming temptations to all the distempered appe-
tites. Pride, that destroyed both worlds, and cleaves so close to human
nature, reigns there. The love of pleasure is a soft seducer that easily
insinuates itself through the senses, and captivates the soul. It is an
observation of St. Chrysostom, that the preserving the three Hebrew
martyrs unpolluted in the court of Babylon, was a greater miracle than
the preserving them unsinged in the fiery furnace. In the absence of
temptations, the corrupt nature is sometimes so concealed that it is
hardly known to itself; but when tempting objects, armed with allure-
ments, offer themselves, the corrupt nature is presently discovered, espe-
cially if a person comes to the license of a sceptre, that swells, pride,
and authorizes the exorbitant desires. To be humble in such a high
QUEEN MARY. 63
elevation, to be temperate in the midst of the freest fruitions, is the effect
of powerful grace. But who ever saw in the Queen an appearance of
pride and disdain How grateful was the condescendance of her great-
ness | Who ever saw any disorder in her countenance, the crystal
wherein the affections are visible | Her breast was like the Pacific Sea,
that seldom suffers and is disturbed by a storm. She was so exempt
from the tyranny of the angry passions,that we may have some conjec-
ture of the felicity of the state of unstained innocence, of which one
ray is so amiable. She had such an abhorrence of the sensual passions,
that nothing impure durst approach her presence.
“She had an excellent understanding, that qualified her for govern-
ment. Of this, her presiding in council in times of danger, and preserv-
ing the tranquillity of the kingdom, were real proofs.
“Her charity, that celestial grace, was like the sun : nothing within
her circuit was hid from its refreshing heat. Love is the clearest notion
we have of the Deity : God is Love. A prince in no perfection resem-
bles God more than in his communicative goodness. I will mention
one act of her pious charity, and the noble manner of her doing it. A
lord of great honour and piety proposed to her a very good work that
was chargeable. She ordered an hundred pounds should be paid to
him for it. Some time interposing before the receipt of the money, he
waited upon the Queen, and pleasantly told her, that interest was due
for the delay of payment. She presently ordered that fifty pounds more
should be given, which was done accordingly. If it were known what
this good Queen did, and what she designed to do, among all her re-
splendent virtues, charity would be illustrious.
“Her wise redemption of time from unconcerning vanities for de-
mestic affairs, was the effect and indication of her tender and vigilant
conscience. She considered her glass was continually running, and all
the sands were to be accounted for. How should this great example
correct those who are lavish of nothing so much as of time, which being
lost is irrecoverable ! The sun returns every day, but time never
returns. x
“In her sickness, patience had its perfect work. Her disease was
uncomfortable, yet, with resigned submission she bore it. When the
danger of it was signified to her, she had no fearful thoughts about her
future state. It is a cruel respect to sick persons, especially to princes, to
conceal from them their danger till death steals insensibly upon them.
Indeed, considering their past lives, and their present anxieties, the advice
of approaching death is an anticipation of it. But the spirit of this excel-
lent saint was not afraid of evil tidings, but was fixed, trusting in the
Lord. Her care had been to secure the love of God in the best time
of her life; and this mixed cordial drops in the bitterness of death.
“In short, all the blessed virtues were eminently seen in her, that
might render her government an entire happiness to the kingdom.
This erected her a throne in the hearts of her subjects, and the honour
the wise poet attributes to the Emperor Augustus, *
Victorque volentes
Per populos dat jura VIRGIL.
that “he ruled a willing people,’ may more truly be said of this excellent
Princess. She was queen of the affections of the people, and governed
64 MEMOIRS OF
*A
them without constraint. Her praiseworthy actions will eternize her
memory, when other princes, divested of their secular pomp, shall either
be buried in dark oblivion, or condemned in history.”
“There is a point of light in which we have not as yet considered this
most excellent Princess; her affection and conduct as a wife to that
great man, the Prince of Orange, afterwards King William the Third,
to whom she was married about seventeen years. Such as have given
an account of her character, have bestowed, and we doubt not with suffi-
cient reason, the highest praises upon her in this relation. “She was,”
says Bishop Burnet, “so tender and so respectful a wife, that she seem-
ed to go beyond the most perfect idea to which wit or invention has been
able to rise. The lowest condition of life, or the greatest inequality of
fortune, has not afforded so complete a pattern. Tenderness and compla-
cency seemed to strive which of them should be the more eminent.
She had no higher satisfaction in the prospect of the greatness that was
descending on her, than that it gave her an occasion of making her hus-
band a present worthy of himself; nor had crowns or thrones any charm
in them that was so pleasant to her, as that they raised him to a greatness
which he so well deserved, and could so well maintain. She was all
zeal and rapture, when any thing was to be done that could either ex-
press affection, or show respect to him. She obeyed with more pleasure
than the most ambitious could have when they command.” That
the Bishop's account of her in this view, and other such like represen-
tations of her in the same exalted strain by other writers that might be
mentioned, do not surpass the truth, but are only a justice to her me-
mory, we may well conclude from what both the King said and did dur-
ing her sickness, and after her decease. When Dr. Tennison, upon
her death, went to comfort the King, his majesty answered, “That he
could not but but grieve, since he had lost a wife who, in seventeen
years, had never been guilty of an indiscretion.”—On the third day of
her illness,” says Bishop Burnet, the King called me into his closet,
and gave a free vent to a most tender passion. He burst out into tears,
and cried out, that there was no hope of the Queen, and that from be-
ing the happiest, he was now going to be the miserablest creature on
earth.” He said, “that during the whole course of their marriage, he
had never known one single fault in her ; that there was a worth in
her that nobody knew beside himself; though,” he added, “I might
know as much of her as any other person did.”f Presently after, the
same historian adds, “that the King's affliction for her death was as great
as it was just. It was greater than those who knew him best thought his
temper capable of. He went beyond all bounds in it. During her sick-
ness, he was in an agony that amazed us all, fainting often, and break-
ing out into most violent lamentations. When she died, his spirit sunk
so low, that there was great reason to apprehend that he was following
her. For some weeks after he was so little master of himself, that he
was not capable of minding business, or of seeing company.”f
But, besides the testimony of her uncommon merit as a wife, in the
above declarations and behaviour of the King her husband, the letters
Written by her to him while he was in Ireland, in the year 1690, bear
* Essay on the Memory of Queen Mary, pp. 125, 126.
j Burnet's History of his Own Time, vol.iii. p. 175, edit. 1815.
f Ibid. vol. iii. p. 177, edit. 1815. ! \
QUEEN MARY. 65
the most convincing proofs of the tenderest affection for him, and the
high esteem and honour in which she held him.*
The King set out for Ireland on the 4th of June, the administration of
affairs having first, by an act of parliament, been vested in the hands of
the Queen, and landed at Carrickfergus on the 14th; and he arrived at
Windsor, in his return from Ireland, September the 9th, 1690. During
this interval, the Queen sent him no less then thirty-seven letters; out
of which, passing by those of national business, we shall select several,
or at least several passages in them, in which there are the brightest
traces of her solicitude and delight to please and approve herself to him.
If, in the recital of them, we should mention some things not immediately
to our purpose, let it be considered that they may be so interwoven with
the parts of the letters we are desirous to communicate, that they could
not well be separated.
The Queen's affliction on the King's leaving her, and her pleasure on hearing
of his welfare.
Whitehall, June 11, (O. S.) 1690.
You will be weary of seeing every day a letter from me, it may be ;
yet, being apt to flatter myself, I hope you will be as willing to read as
I to write. And indeed it is the only comfort I have in this world,
besides that of trust in God. I have nothing to say to you at present
that is worth writing, and I think it unreasonable to trouble you with
my grief, which I must continue while you are absent, though I trust
every post to hear some good news or other from you.-I cannot enough
thank God for your being so well past the dangers of the sea. I beseech
him in his mercy still to preserve you, and send us once more a happy
meeting on earth. I long to hear again from you how the air of Ireland
agrees with you, for I must own I am not without my fears for that,.
loving you so entirely as I do, and shall till death. -
The Queen's thankful sense of theſleliverance of the King, when his
shoulder was grazed by a cannon ball, and her tender anariety for his
safety.
Whitehall, July 6, 1690.
I can never give God thanks enough, as long as I live, for your preser-
vation. I hope in his mercy, that this is a sign he preserves you to finish
the work he has begun by you; but I hope it may be a warning to you,
to let you see you are exposed to as many, accidents as others; and
though it has pleased God to keep you once in so visible a manner, yet
you must forgive me if I tell you that I should think it a tempting God.
to venture again without a great necessity. I know what I say of this
kind will be attributed to fear. I own I have a great deal for your dear
person, yet I hope I am not unreasonable upon the subject, for I trust in
God, and he is pleased every day to confirm me more and more in the
confidence I have in him; yet, my fears are not less, since I cannot tell
if it should be his will to suffer you to come to harm for our sins, and
*See these letters in Sir John Dalrymple's Memoirs of Great Britain and Ireland, vol. ii.
part ii. p. 114–169. -
9
66 MEMOIRS OF
when that might happen; for though God is able, yet, many times he
punishes the sins of a nation as it seems good in his sight. Your writ-
ing me word how soon you hoped to send me good news, shows me how
soon you thought there may be some action, and that thought put me in
perpetual pain. This morning, when I heard the express was come,
before Lord Nottingham came up, I was taken with a trembling for fear,
which has hardly left me yet, and I really do not know what I do. Your
letter came just before I went to chapel; and though the first thing Lord
Nottingham told me was, that you was very well, yet the thoughts that
you expose yourself thus to danger fright me out of my wits, and make
me not able to keep my trouble to myself; but, for God’s sake, let me
beg you to take more care for the time to come. Consider what depends
upon your safety. There are so many more important things than
myself, that I think I am not worthy naming among them. But it may
be, the worst will be over before this time, so that I will say no more.
I did not answer your letter by the post last night, because the express
could not be despatched; and I believe more hinderances are come, for
Lord Steward and Lord Pembroke write word they will be here to-night,
but I can say very little upon the subject at present, for I really had my
head and heart so full of you, I could mind nothing else. I hope you
will forgive me if I forget half what I have to say, for really my concern.
for you has got the mastery, and I am not able to think of any thing else,
but that I love you in more abundance than my own life.
The Queen's tender Congratulations on his Victory at the Boyne”—Her
joy on the occasion—Her desires of the King's Return—Her strong affec-
tion to him.
Whitehall, July 7, 1690.
How to begin this letter I know not, or how ever to render God thanks
enough for his mercies. Indeed they are too great, if we look on our
deserts; but, as you say, it is his own cause, and since it is for the glory
of his great name, we have no reason to fear but he will perfect what he
has begun. For myself, in particular, my heart is so full of joy and
acknowledgment to that great God who has preserved you, and given
you such a victory, that I am unable to explain it. I beseech him to
give me grace to be ever sensible, as I ought, and that I and all may
live suitable to such a mercy as this is. I am sorry the Fleet has done
no better, but it is God’s providence, and we must not murmur, but wait
with patience to see the event. I was yesterday out of my senses with
trouble, I am now almost so with joy, so that I cannot really as yet tell
what I have to say to you by this bearer, who is impatient to return. I
hope in God by the afternoon to be in a condition of sense enough to
say much more, but for the present I am not.
* “The victory of the Boyne, July 1, 1690,” says Bishop Burnet, in his History of his
9wn Time, vol. iii. p. 64, edit. 1815, “was a complete victory; and those who were the
least disposed to flattery, said it was allinost wholly due to the king's courage and conduct.
#nd though he was a little stiff by reason of his wound, yet he was forced to quit his horse in
thºmorºs, and to go through it on foot; but he came up in time to ride almost into every
bºdy of his army. He charged in many different places, and nothing stood before him.” The
Bishºp adds, p. 71, ibid. “That in this battle a musket-ball struck the heel of his boot, and
recoiling, killed a horse near him; and one of his own men, mistaking him for an enemy,
Sºme up tº shoot him ; but the King gently put by his pistol, and only said, Do you not know
your friends 2"
QUEEN MARY. 67
When I wrote the foregoing part of this, it was in the morning, soon
after I had received yours; and now it is four in the afternoon, but I am
not yet come to myself, and fear I shall lose this opportunity of writing
all my mind, for I am still in such a confusion of thoughts that I scarce
know what to say; but I hope in God you will now readily consent to
what the lord president wrote last night, for methinks there is nothing
more for you to do. I will hasten Kensington as much as it is possible,
and I will also get ready for you here, for I will hope you may come be-
fore that is done. I must put you in mind of one thing, believing it now
the season, which is, that you would take care of the church in Ireland.
Every body agrees that it is the worst in Christendom. There are now
bishoprics vacant, and other things. I beg you would take time to
consider who you will fill them with. You will forgive me that I trou-
ble you with this now, but I hope you will take care of those things
which are of so great consequence to religion, which I am sure will be
more your care every day, now that it has pleased God to bless you
with success. I think I have told you before, how impatient I am to
hear how you approve what has been done here. I have but little part
in it myself, but I long to hear how others have pleased you. I am very
uneasy in one thing, which is the want of somebody to speak my mind
freely to, for it is a great restraint, to think and be silent; and there is
so much matter, that I am ready to burst.—Lord Nottingham brought
me your letter yesterday, and I could not hold; so he saw me cry, which
I have hindered myself from before every body till then that it was im-
possible; and this morning, when I heard the joyful news from Mr.
Butler, I was in pain to know what was become of the late King,” but
durst not ask him ; but when Lord Nottingham came, I ventured to do
it, and I had the satisfaction to know he was safe. I know I need not
beg you to let him be taken care of, for I am confident you will, for
your own sake, yet add that to all your kindness, and for my sake let
the people know you would have no hurt come to his person. Forgive
me this. The lords of the treasury have desired me, that if there is
any thing to be done, I would hear them all. You gave me no direc-
tions in this, but to the contrary, so that I have declined it hitherto;
but if I must sign any warrant, it must come to it.
I have written this at so many times, that I fear you will hardly
make sense of it. I long to hear what you will say to the proposition f
* It is very observable that Queen Mary, amidst her unbounded affection for the King her
husband, still retained and showed her duty to her father; and how united the royal pair were
in their regards to him, appears from the following instance: a proposition was made to King
William, that a third-rate ship, well manned by a faithful crew, and commanded by one who
had been well with King James, but in whom he might trust, should sail to Dublin, and de-
clare for King James. The person who told Bishop Burnet this, offered to be the person who
should carry the message to King James, for he was well known to him, and invite him to
come on board, which he seemed to be sure he would accept of; and that when he was aboard,
they should sail away with him, and land him either in Spain or Italy, as the King should de-
sire, and should have twenty thousand pounds to give him when he should be set ashore.
King William thought this was a well-formeddesign, and likely enough to succeed, but would
not hearken to it: declaring, that he would have no hand in treachery, and alleging that King
James would certainly carry some of his guards and of his court aboard with him, who probably
would make some opposition, and in the struggle, some accident might happen to him, in
which he would have no hand. Bishop Burnet accquainted the Queen with this, who showed
#. tenderness for her father's person, and was much touched with the answer the King
ad made.—BURNET's History, vol. iii. p. 59. *
f The proposition from the lords to the king was, that he should return.
68 MEMOIRS OF
that will be sent to you this night by the lords, and flatter myself
mightily with the hopes to see you, for which I am more impatient than
can be expressed, loving you with a passion which cannot end but with
my life.
The Queen’s high esteem of the King’s kindness to her, and her
great love for him.
Whitehall, Aug. 22, 1690.
You will have an account from Lord Nottingham what has been done
this day and yesterday. I know you will pity me; and I hope you
will believe, if your letter had been less kind, I do not know what
would become of me. It is that only makes me bear all that now so
torments me, and I give God thanks every day for your kindness. It
is such a satisfaction to me to find that you are satisfied with me, that
I cannot express it ; and I do so flatter myself with the hopes of be-
ing once more happy with you in this world that that thought alone
makes me bear all with patience. I pray God preserve you from the
dangers I hear you expose yourself daily to, which puts me in con-
tinual pain. A battle, I fancy, is soon over ; but the perpetual shoot-
ing you are now in, is an intolerable thing to think on. For God’s
sake take care of yourself. You owe it to yourself and this country,
and to all in general. I must not name myself, where church and
state are equally concerned ; yet, I must needs say, you owe a little
care for my sake, who, I am sure, love you more than you can do me;
and the little care you take of your dear person, I take to be a sign of
it ; but I must still love you more than life. º
The Queen's joy on the prospect of the King’s Return.
Whitehall, Sept. 8th, 1690,
Lord Winchester is desirous to go to meet you, which you may be-
lieve I will never hinder any one. Whether I ought to send him out
of form’s sake, I cannot tell, but it may pass for what it ought to the
world; and to your dear self, at least, I suppose it is indifferent. No-
thing can express the impatience I have to see you, nor my joy to think
it is so near. I have not slept all this night for it, though I had but
five hours sleep the night before, for a reason I shall tell you. I am
now going to Kensington, to put things in order there, and intend to
dine there to-morrow, and expect to hear when I shall set out to meet
you—God send you a good journey home, and make me as thankful as
I ought for all his mercies.
We have thus endeavoured to delineate and present to the public
view, the true and full character of this most amiable woman,—this,
we had almost said, angel clothed in clay; and have been the more
desirous to do justice to her, as the memoirs of her eminent virtues
may not hitherto have been so particular as the subject of them might
deserve.
We shall conclude with one excellent poem, which was written in
honour of her.
QUEEN MARY. 69
On the Sight of QUEEN MARY, in the Year 1694.
By THE REv. ISAAC watts, D.D.
*
I saw th’ illustrious form; I saw
Beauty that gave the nations law:
Her eyes, like mercy on a throne,
In condescending grandeur shone.
That blooming face : how lovely fair
Hath Nature mix’d her wonders there !
The rosy morn such lustre shows,
Glancing along the Scythian snows.
Her shape, her motion, and her mien,
All heav'nly : such are angels seen,
When the bright vision grows intense,
And fancy aids our feebler sense.
Earth's proudest idols dare not vie
With such superior majesty:
A kindling vapour might as soon
Rise from the bogs and meet the moon.
Pll call no Raphael from his rest:
Such charms can never be exprest.
Pencil and paint were never made
To draw pure light without a shade.
Britain beholds her Queen, with pride,
And mighty William at her side,
Gracing the throne, while at her feet
With humble joy three nations meet.
Secure of empire, she might lay
Her crown, her robes, her state away,
And 'midst ten thousand nymphs be seen :
Herbeauty would proclaim the queen.
EPANORTHOSIS,
Her guardian angel heard my so
“Fond man,” hº cried, “ E. wrong
My lovely charge. So, vulgar eyes
Gaze at the stars, and praise the skies.
“Rudely they praise who dwell below,
And heav'n's true #. never know ;
Where stars and planets are no more
Than pebbles scatter'd en the floor.
“So, where celestial virtues join'd
Form an incomparable mind,
Crowns, sceptres, beauties, charms, and air
Stand but as shining servants there.”
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
T H E L A D Y MA R Y V E R E.
This lady derived her birth from respectable families on both sides. On
her father’s side, she descended from the ancient family of the Tracys,
of Toddington in Gloucestershire ; and on her mother’s side she sprang
from the best line of the Throgmortons.
She was the youngest of fifteen children, and was born on the 18th
of May, 1581. Her mother died three days after her birth; and her
father when she was only eight years of age. Thus was she soon
left a orphan in the world; but, when her father and mother forsook
her, the Lord took her up; and the experience she had all her life long
of God’s most tender care over her, made her choose this for her motto,
which was found written by her in the front of most of her books in her
closet, “God will provide.”
She took much delight in speaking of one of her ancestors, as one
of the greatest honours of her family, namely William Tracy, of
Toddingdon, Esq., who, in the reign of King Henry VIII., for the sound
profession of his faith contained in his last will and testament, was,
two years after his decease, condemned to have his body taken up and
burned ; which sentence was accordingly executed.
The subject of our memoirs was twice married. Her first marriage
was to Mr. William Hobby, when she was nineteen years of age. By
him she had two sons, whom she religiously educated, and at whose ’
pious deaths, she reaped the blessed harvest of her labours, there being
good reason to conclude that they were ripe for heaven, having lived
long in a little time. The younger died in the fourteenth year of his
age ; and the elder in his twenty-third, who was much admired for his
parts, and as much beloved for his piety.
Her second husband was Sir Horace Were, afterwards Baron of Tilbury;
a person not to be mentioned without some honourable character, and
whose personal achievements in the field, especially at the battle of
Nieuport, in Flanders, ennobled him more than the high blood derived
from his ancestors. But his unstained piety was his crowning glory. This
noble lord was one who could wrestle with God, as well as fight with
men. His good lady used to say, that she honoured him for his valour,
but more so for the grace of God that shone in him.
But, passing by the civil and secular distinctions of this lady, we will
present her in her spiritual excellencies, which, indeed, are the only things
that give an intrinsic value to a person. We may apply to her what
Nehemiah said of an eminent person in his time, (chap. vii. 2,) “She
was a faithful woman, “and feared God above many.” "
Herzeal for the public worship of God was very eminent: which she
evidenced, **
First; By her great care and diligence to provide able and faithful
ministers for those livings of which she had the disposal; and also by im-
LADY MARY WERE. 71.
oving her utmost interest to procure the like for the parish in which she
ſº in its several vacancies.
Secondly ; By her constant attendance on public worship, so long as
Providence granted her health to do it. And she not only attended her-
self, but took care that her family attended also ; and they were no
servants for her, who would not join in the service of God with her.
Thirdly; She was no less devout than constant at the public worship.
She durst not trifle with holy things, nor in holy duties; which gave
occasion to one to say of her, “that the Lady Were, by her solemn and
reverent deportment in divine worship, would make one believe that there
is a God indeed.” As for the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, her desires
were eager and ardent to partake frequently of it, declaring, that she
durst not neglect, no not any one opportunity that was offered for the en-
joying this sacred ordinance. She was also very serious and intent in
her preparation for it. The whole preceding week was taken up by her
for that work, it which she would also always have a private fast kept for
her family, or a secret one in her closet.
As her zeal was thus eminent for the worship of God in public,
so, it was eminent for the worship of God in private. Follow her but from
the church to her own house, and you will find that she brought her
devotion home with her. If ever any private dwelling might be called
a chapel, or little sanctuary, that of Lady Vere's much more. Twice
every day she and her family were upon their knees offering their solemn
worship to Almighty God. There you might see them humbly sitting at
his feet to hear his holy word read to them, constantly concluding their
evening service with one of David’s psalms. Whatsoever strangers were
present at her house, there was no putting by or adjourning the service
of God to a more convenient time on their account.
On the Lord’s-day, the sermons preached in public were repeated to
the household; the servants were called to give an account before her of
what each of them remembered, and the high praises of God were sung
by the associated family. *
Twice every day she shut up herself for some hours in her closet,
which was excellently furnished with pious books of practical divinity.
Here she spent her precious time in reading the sacred Sciptures, and
other good books that might give her further light into the oracles of God,
and edify hel in her most holy faith. Here she poured out her devout
soul with such fervour in prayer, as could not be hid, at least sometimes,
from her attendants and maid servants, when at any time their business
drew them near their lady’s closet door. But we are not yet at an end
of her devotions; for, every night, her practice was to pray with her
maid-servants before she went to bed. Is it any wonder that she grew so
rich in grace, who maintained so great and constant a traffic in the
means of it, and had so many ports open to receive her spiritual gains !
As her zeal for both the public and private worship of her God was thus
eminent, so, her love to God manifested itself, beside what hath been
already mentioned, in several respects, and those in very high degrees.
As, ---, *
First, The mournful complaint which she frequently made, that she
loved God no better. The reason, indeed, of which complaint was,
because she loved him so much ; and she thought she loved him so little,
because she knew that she could never love him. enough. The truth
72. MEMOIRS OF
was, she had such elevated apprehensions of the glorious excellency of
the Divine Majesty, as caused her to think her highest affections unwor-
thy of him. And none, indeed, who have such exalted ideas of the
greatness and goodness of God, can love him little, or think their love
when at the highest to be great. *
Secondly; Her love to God manifested itself in her vehement desires
and longings to be gone hence, and to be with Christ, which she account-
ed best of all. She was one of those very few Christians who stood in
need of the excellent Mr. John Dod’s use of exhortation, which he
would make to the saints in his preaching, “ that they would be content
and patient, though they were not taken up to heaven so soon as they
desired.” This most heavenly man having lived to a great age, and
finding that to stay longer on earth, without any thing like a discontent
or impatience, was something difficult to himself, thought that it was
the common experience with others; whereas it is too true that most
Christians are of a lower class in the school of Christ; prone rather to .
linger here, and to hide themselves, like Saul, in the stuff, when they are
sought for to be crowned, than to be too much in haste for going hence,
so that they rather need a goad then a rein; and ministers have reason to
try to take hold of them with the strongest arguments they can find, to
draw them off from the love of life and the world, as the angels urged
Lot out of Sodom, rather than to persuade them to be willing to continue
here. But this very pious lady had by faith such a sight of heaven, as
made her stay below tedious and wearisome to her. The earnest choice
of her soul was, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly l’” For she found, to
her great grief, that her imperfect state on earth made it impossible for
her to obey and honour God as she would, and devoutly desired; and
therefore, she often complained that she was unprofitable. And this
deep sense of her unprofitableness, even while others admired her emi-
nent usefulness, still increased her desires to arrive at that world where
all these infirmities and defects would be no more, and where she knew
her abilities would perfectly correspond to her utmost wishes to serve
and glorify her God and Saviour.
. Thirdly; Her love to God was also clearly discovered in her love to
the saints who were born of God, and had his lively image stamped
upon them. This love to the saints is, in Scripture, made one of the
fairest evidences of our love to God, (1 John, v. 1,) And every one who
loves him that begat, loves him also who is begotten of him.” A man
may love the child, and yet not love his father; but he cannot love his
child, because he is his child, and because he is like his father, but he
must of necessity love his father, and, indeed, love him first and most,
because his love to the child springs from his love to his father. This
lady was doubtless, then, a great lover of God, because she had so dear an
affection for his children. She was not one who praised the dead saints,
and persecuted the living. She did not pretend love to those who lived
far from her, but showed no kindness to such as were near her. She
did not factiously love some of one party, and reproach those of another.
In a word, she did not love the saints in an equality with others, from
a natural tenderness which disposes some persons to all, good and bad :
but her love was a cordial, spiritual, special, and uniform love to the
people of God. In whomsoever she saw any thing of God, her love
was drawn out towards them, and she had the most love for those who
LADY MARY WERE. 73
discovered most of God in them. She loved them so as to delight in
their converse and communion, and the largest measures of her charity
were extended to them.
As for the faithful ministers of Christ, whose office and function
raise them above private Christians, few ever exceeded her in lowing and
honouring them. She loved first the ministry, and then the ministers;
seriously professing that the great affection and high esteem she bore
them, was for their Master’s sake, whose ambassadors they were.
Fourthly ; Her love to God was strongly evinced by her works of
charity; as, (1.) By the largeness of her charity. Her charity was so
great, that it might well be matter of admiration that it was not ex-
hausted by so liberal a diffusion. She was like a tree with this strange
property, that it yielded its fruit not once in the year, but at all times.
Many were the channels in which her charity communicated itself.
This excellent lady had money for the empty purse ; meat and drink
for the hungry and thirsty ; physic for the sick and diseased ; and
salves for the sore and wounded. Abundance of good she did in
these ways. She was not only liberal, but devised liberal things. If
her servants knew of any persons in great necessity, and they did not
acquaint her with their cases, and she afterwards heard by other hands
of these distressed objects, she would express her anger to her servants
for their neglect. It fell out that an honest poor neighbour died before
she knew of his illness; for which the good lady being concerned, she
inquired of her servant who attended her, whether the person wanted
any thing in his sickness, adding, “I tell you, that I had rather part
with the gown from off my back, than that the poor should want.” (2.)
She was wonderfully secret in what she gave. When she would do
a work of charity, she had no trumpet sounded before her, but her be-
nevolence descended like a golden stream of oil into a vessel, without
any noise or notice. And,(3.) In the exercise of her charity, there was
an humble and self-denying spirit. She communicated her charity like
a good steward, acknowledging that what she gave was not her own,
but her Lord’s money. Notwithstanding all her alms-giving, she had
her entire dependence upon Christ, desiring to be found alone in him,
and in his righteousness, as if she had not done any one good work in
all her life. Though we have taken notice of many excellent qualities
of this worthy lady, we shall not do her character the justice it de-
serves, if we do not add some further particulars. As,
First; The uniformity of her holy walk. Her religion was not like
the driven snow, which lies very thick and heavy in one place, and very
thin and scanty in another ; but it was one universal piety and good-
ness. In her conversation, one part admirably corresponded and agreed
with another. A happy symmetry appeared in her whole course, both
towards God, and towards man, both abroad and at home; and few per-
sons have had a more honourable testimony from those who lived near,
or long with them, than what this eminent woman had from all who
lived under her roof.
Secondly; Her faith was very remarkable. This grace seemed to be
strongest when death seemed to be nearest. Somewhat more than a
twelvemonth before she died, she fell into a swoon, which continued
above half an hour, without any sensible hopes of recovery. As soon as
she came to herself, she broke out, “I know that my Redeemer lives ;”
10
74 MEMOIRS OF LADY WERE.
and upon her being conveyed to her chamber, she said, “I know whom
I have trusted.” e h
Thirdly; We will add, that the humility of this lady was very eminent
and singular. This grace, in conjunction with her sincerity, appeared
in the great freedom which she gave to her friends, in speaking to her
of what they saw amiss in her. She much applauded the privilege and
benefit of having a faithful friend, saying, “that others might see more
by us, than we could do by ourselves.” She used also to say, “that it
was a great mercy to be convinced of any sin.” She thought meanly
of herself. She saw not how bright her face shone, though others be-
held and admired its lustre. Her frequent complaint was, that she was
useless, and did no good. She often spoke of her imperfections, wants,
akness, and unworthiness. She was easy of access, even to the
meanest who came into her presence. Her deportment was full of
coºrtesy and lowliness to the poorest person. Many a time, when her
servants had well performed any business she had set them about, she
would thank them for it. The law of kindness was upon her tongue
tº whomsoever she spoke.
We now come to the close of her bright and long day. And it may be
truly said, that at evening-time it was light. In her last sickness, her
pains were very strong, but her patience was stronger. Never was she
heard to murmur, or utter one repining word, but she justified God in
all his dispensations towards her. Even more than this, she was much
in admiring and blessing God for his mercies in her acutest pains and
greatest agonies. In what a lofty and ravishing strain does her blessed
soul now sing forth the praises of God in heaven, who could tune them
so sweetly in the darkest hours of nature, and with the sharpest thorns
of affliction at her breast !
She was not entirely free from the assaults of Satan; but he came
only to be repulsed with shame, and to add more trophies to all her for-
mervictories over him. The last words which were observed to be spo-
ken by her before that fatal lethargy seized upon her weak, worn-out
body, which in two days brought on her dissolution, were, “How shall I
do to be thankfull How shall I do to praise my God?” Thus she closed
her life in the exercise of that duty which was to be her constant and
endless employment and pleasure, in that better life into which she was
then entering; and died in the Lord, December the 25th, 1671, in the
ninetieth year of her age, if not, as some of her near relations afterwards
said, in the ninety-first. Thus did God give her a remarkable long life,
and crown her at last with his salvation.
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
SUSANNA, COUNTESS OF SUFFOLK.
THIS lady was born in or about the year 1627. She was the se-
cond daughter of the Earl of Holland, and was married very young to
Theophilus, Earl of Suffolk.
Particular notice is taken, in the narrative concerning her, of her
powers of imagination, judgment, and memory. The last faculty was
so eminent in her, that she hath sometimes on the Monday shut her-
self up in privacy, and, from her remembrance, committed to writing
the sermon which she had heard the Lord’s-day before ; and this with
such exactness, as that but little has been wanting of the very words
in which the discourse was delivered.
As to morality, she had a perfect government over her passions. She
was seldom angry so far as to chide; and when it came to that, she
generally checked herself. It was often remarked to her, that she knew
to do any thing more skilfully than to chide, especially if it were for
any worldly matter. But if any thing that concerned the cause of God
awakened her chiding, she would be more serious in it, and often turn
her resentment into a warm reprehension and displeasure. An oath, or
a scurrilous or profane speech, would bring the blood into her face; and
if she had interest in the offenders, they were sure to be reproved : if
they were strangers, she would drop some smart check, but yet, such
as was perfectly consistent with civility, or would show her dislike by
a withdrawment from their company.
Her behaviour was undissembled towards friends, familiar towards
inferiors, affable and accessible to all. She was constant in her friend-
ship, and most useful in it, being willing to take any pains for the per-
sons for whom she professed an esteem. She was most unapt to admit
ill of any of whom she had once conceived well: nothing was so dis-
tressing to her as to hear an accusation of those of whom she enter-
tained a good opinion. Her servants fared not the worse for the in-
feriority of their stations. She was as tender of their errors as she was
of those of her friends, and never considered any servant she had, and
believed to be faithful and virtuous, but as an humble friend. This dis-
position, and the kindness she extended to all she knew in affliction,
much increased the sorrow at her death. None understood relations
better; none could possibly observe them better than she husband,
parents, kindred, friends, servants, neighbours, were all witnesses of
this truth. •
These may seem to be but moral virtues, but there was the utmost
reason to think that they were the effects of a gracious disposition in
her, and that, flowing from the laver of regeneration, they might well
be baptized Christian graces; it being well known that all her actions,
in which there was time for deliberation, sprang from a conscience of
duty, and were performed as in the sight of God. ©
Hence her holy fortitude and valour for the truth. She would suffer
76 MEMOIRS OF
any inconveniency, rather than she would tell an untruth, or forge an
excuse, or permit any of her servants to do it, or by any equivocation
deceive, or elude a question. The intrusions of company, when busi-
ness, and especially the exercises of religion, called her, were no small
trouble to her; but she never would be guilty of a lie to get rid of her
visitants. Any rock would she venture upon, rather than venture upon
an untruth.
Her charity was very great. The poor and distressed, whom her
tender heart often relieved, at her death, and long after, bewailed
their loss, and thankfully recognised her abundant goodness to them.
She distributed her bounty without the least ostentation. Her soul
seemed to be composed of Christian kindness and compassion ; and,
though she had a perfect government of her passions, yet, her pity
always governed her. If any in want, when she was from home, en-
treated an alms from her, she would not excuse herself by saying, as
might sometimes be the case, that she had no money about her, but
would borrow from her attendants, to give something for the help of
the poor object that solicited her benevolence. But the poor she knew
needed not come to her to implore her aid. She sent clothing, food,
physic, and other comforts to their habitations, if they had any, and
provided habitations for some, who must otherwise have had no dwell-
ings; and, more than all this, she often condescended to visit them,
that she might inform herself of their person and condition. But her
charity was not confined to the bodies of the poor. She had a way also
of relieving their souls, by the daily prayers she offered up on their
behalf, and by instructing the ignorant, and counselling the doubtful
and scrupulous.
Another kind of charity also shone in her, that of forgiving injuries,
which, whether they arose from mistake and inadvertency,or from wilful
malice, were alike pardoned by her. Her memory in other things was
very tenacious ; but, as to an ill turn, she seemed to have no memory
at all. Benefits, kindnesses, good actions, and good speeches, were en-
graven in her heart, as if written in adamant, never to be effaced ; but
as to offences, they were only like inscriptions upon sand, which pre-
sently vanished. An unkindness, indeed, for the time, might make a
deep impression upon her spirit, a great wound upon a heart where all
things were so contrary to it; but it never was answered from her with
the like unkindness.
She gave the lively signs of her faith and hope, by which her soul
ascended beyond all fears and sorrows into the bosom of Christ. Some-
times, indeed, her fears would be awakened, through the tenderness of
her nature ; but she would soon recollect herself, and by reason, and
religious considerations get the victory over them. When she was ex-
ercised with sorrows, they yielded to faith and patience, and the comforts
which she could readily derive from the Divine storehouse. When her
first-born son, then her only child, had the pangs of death upon him,
she, after prayers and tears, sat very disconsolate. On the report of his
departure, when the floods of grief burst from her eyes, in order to stop
their current, she took her Bible, and sang psalms till she had broken the
violence of her passion, and brought her soul to a cheerful submission to
the will of God.
As to the fine array of her body, she valued it mot; but there was a
THE COUNTESS OF SUFFOLK. 77
garment in which she delighted, and which was seen above, and invested
all the rest, the most lovely garment of humility. This garment clothed
her from head to foot, and through this and the veil of modesty, all the
other ornaments of her mind shone, if not with a more mollified, yet with
a more amiable and divine lustle.
Possessed of these excellent endowments and graces of the mind,
her practice was conformable to them. None of her talents were laid
up in a napkin ; but, with the utmost diligence and vigour, she improv-
ed them for her Master’s use, that she might glorify God he giver of
them, that she might edify and do good to those to whom she was relat-
ed, and that she might make her own calling and election sure.
She began the day with God, and as she opened the morning, so she
shut up the evening with prayer. Most commonly, as soon as she could
disperse sleep from her eyes, or, because she would not take her full
measure of sleep, as soon as others had waked her, she went into her
closet, and perfumed it with prayer; at the same time reading her daily
portion of the Bible, which was, the Psalms of David usually appointed
for the day of the month, and six chapters besides ; intending by that
course to read the whole Bible over twice in the year, which she never
failed to do for the last seven years of her life ; for, if she was compelled
by necessity to omit once or twice, she proportionably increased the num-
ber the next opportunity. She attended to her soul first, and then set
all other things in the exactest order. She methodically ranged her
hours for her affairs, repasts, and reading. Besides reading her portions
in the Bible, which she did for the daily food of her soul, she, for pious
recreation and more exact knowledge, set time apart for examining the
hard places of Scripture by Diodati’s notes, and other interpreters; and,
because she could not stop the current of reading at the instant, to stay
and search into every difficulty, she set a mark where a difficulty oc-
curred, to examine it at her after leisure.
She had a zeal for the Lord’s-day and times set apart for devotion;
but especially before her reception of the Sacrament of the Lord's Sup-
per, which she strove to do very frequently, as experiencing much com-
fort by it, she used the most exact strictness and serious preparation.
We have done with what belongs to this excellent person as to her
course of life. We shall now add something of what attended her
departure from our world. Her whole life was that which sound
philosophers, or rather sound Christians, would denominate a constant
meditation on death, or preparation for it. No wonder, then, that her
behaviour in the views of death, was most serene, comfortable, and wor-
thy of the true Christian.
Upon her apprehension of the fears of her friends concerning her
recovery, she earnestly entreated them to deal plainly with her as to
her condition, which she could by no means bear to have dissembled or
concealed from her. Her friends confessed that their hopes of her life were
but small, or not any, and desired her to submit to the will of God in her dis-
solution. On receiving this intimation, she discovered no fears nor sorrows
at parting with the world and her dear relations in it. She sent for such
as were nearest of kin to her, and for other friends, and, with a counte-
nance composed to the most solemn and yet serene gravity, she began to
take leave of them ; bequeathing to them spiritual comforts, fervent
prayers, divine benedictions, and her weighty counsels and advices, par-
78 MEMOIRS OF
ticularly adapted to each of them, and especially to her lord, her children
and servants; all of which were such as tended to direct them in the way
of well-doing, that so they might, through the merits of Christ, meet
again in glory. In a word, such were her assurance and joy in the Holy
Ghost, that it seemed as if she had begun to taste the happiness of the
life to come, in the very tidings of death.
Her legacy left for her two dear children, was her desire to her lord,
that whatsoever provision he should make for their outward condition,
of which she was neither distrustful nor solicitous, they might be brought
up in the strictest way of religion. The strictest way was always ac-
counted best for herown self, in her life; and now, at her death, she bore
witness to it, and recommended it for the dearest pledges of her love.
It seemed good to her heavenly Father to continue her, contrary to
her own and others’ expectations, six months longer, being restored
almost by miracle from the brink of the grave. Providence seemed in
great mercy to make this small accession to her life, for she was an in-
expressible comfort to her father in his extreme affliction. When all
hopes of life as to him were past, and after she with the rest of those
who were dear to him, had taken their final leave, that his few remain-
ing hours might be spent with his spiritual comforters, she would not
give sleep to her eyes till she had once more visited and discoursed with
him, but on matters wholly relating to eternity. Accordingly, coming
betimes in the morning first timorously into his chamber, after she had
watched all night in a room hard by for that purpose, he with joy be-
held and welcomed her. They presently fell into conversation, in
which she made such questions and answers, so gently wounded, and
then so kindly endeavoured to heal, and, in a word, so applied both
law and gospel to him, that at length her father, being refreshed with
the comforts she administered, cried out, “Happy I, that I should from
a child of my own receive such consolation ſ” After that, he told a
reverend divine, who came to administer the like consolation, “that he
thanked God that he had a child there, who, though he said it before
her face, was able to be his counsellor in all his doubts.” Another
divine also, who was present, professed that he heard her discourse for
half an hour to admiration.
After her father’s death, none so nearly related bore the distressing
stroke with such Christian patience as herself, acknowledging it the
wise method of Almighty God to bestow mercy on a soul, which, without
so great a measure of affliction in health, and in the glory of his pros-
perity, could not, or would not, ever have so humbly and sincerely
sought it. She also declared that she could not, if it were possible and
lawful, with her mind and judgment, wish her father alive again ;
although it was well known, that never parent lay deeper in the affec-
tions of a child than he did in hers; but she durst not wish him so bad
a change as to leave heaven for earth. She told a friend, “that now, if
God would give her leave, she would retire into the country, and
that she had put her family business in such a way, that for herself
she would have nothing to do but to be ready to die.”
It pleased God to suffer the violence of the disease which brought this
excellent lady to the grave, to seize upon her intellects for three or four
days before her death. . But, though her distemper reached her brain,
and created some disturbance there, yet, she had some clear and bright
THE COUNTESS OF SUFFOLK. 79
moments for the exercises both of reason and religion. Particularly in
one of those lucid intervals, she poured out her soul in a large prayer, the
words of which could not be recollected, but it consisted of the most fer-
vent, melting passages, in which she pleaded before God his name, his
attributes, his mercies, his Christ, and all his comfortable promises;
which she drew with the most admirable skill, choice, and readiness,
from every precious vein in the rich mine of his word. This was her last
act of reason for any continuance ; only, when her strength was even.
spent, she owned her dear relations when they came to her, let them un-
derstand that she was assured of her interest in Christ, and joined with
the deepest attention in prayer with one whom she desired to perform that
office; after which, she gave signs of her approbation, and requested
that he who had thus prayed on her behalf would not leave the room.
Within a little more than an hour after, in a kind of quiet sleep, she
yielded up her spirit unto God who gave it, May 10, 1649, leaving be-
hind her the most loud and bitter lamentations of her friends, to whom
she had been inexpressibly desirable and delightful. All this holiness
and virtue, thus full-grown and eminent, were removed from our world
when the lady was but about twenty-two years of age.
*
L AD Y M A R Y A R MY N E.
THIS lady was a branch of an illustrious family, that of the Talbots,
for a long succession of time Earls of Shrewsbury, whose great achieve-
ments, both in civil and military affairs, have raised their names, and
crowned them with distinguished honour.”
As to her natural abilities, she was quick and lively, and had a very
comprehensive understanding even to the last hours of her life. Though
she was considerably above fourscore years of age, yet she could dis-
course as rationally on the very day on which she died, as others can in
the very flower of their time.
As to her acquired accomplishments, she had attained to an eminent
skill in all those things which belonged to her sex, degree, and place.
She was not without some competent knowledge of more languages
than her native tongue, particularly the French and Latin. She was
considerably skilled in divinity and history. She was not only acquaint- .
ed with practical but polemical theology. She was well versed not only
in the Jewish and Roman histories, but especially in the historical part
of the Scriptures, and in ecclesiastical affairs. She well understood
how to manage all her concerns to the best advantage. She was
of a very obliging deportment. By her humble and courteous carriage
and address she won the esteem of all with whom she conversed, or had
any connexion. But nothing so much ennobled and beautified her as
her religion, as appeared in the following particulars.
She loved it in others. She loved such who led an holy life. She
could not be easy in bad company. She valued holiness not only in those
of her own family, choosing her servants by this qualification, but in
strangers. A good evidence that she loved religion for its own sake.
She endeavoured to promote godliness in others, not only by counsel,
admonition, and exhortation, in her discourses with them, but by many
pious letters she wrote with her own hand. She used to distribute good
books to encourage the receivers of her charity in their progress towards
heaven, and she gave large sums annually for carrying on the work
begun in New England, for the conversion of the poor Indians. This
sacred benevolence she continued to her dying day.
When that Bartholomew-day came, (1662,) in which somany hundreds
of godly, able, and laborious ministers were ejected from their livings, to
the dreadful distress, as to their outward circumstances, of themselves,
their wives, and their children, out of tender compassion to their sad con-
dition, she came a few days after to the Rev. Edmund Calamy, and
brought five hundred pounds to be distributed by him to the most indigent
families among them.
She readily and joyfully embraced every opportunity of serving God in
public or private, upon ordinary or extraordinary occasions. She was as
* It is to be regretted, that the original writer of the memoirs of this truly worthy lady, had
not more fully informed us of her family and connexions, and acquainted us where she was
born, lived, and died.
LADY MARY ARMYINE. 81
eagerly inclined and forward to join in holy duties and ordinances as
others are, or can be, to run after worldly vanities. She behaved herself
with much seriousness and humility in God’s house of prayer. She
never mentioned the names of God or of Christ but with a reverential
awe upon her spirit. She highly regarded and esteemed godly ministers,
and even bore great respect to them who were of the lower form, and of
meaner gifts, if she observed them to be holy and industrious in their
heavenly calling.
She abounded in charities. Besides what has been instanced, she in
her life-time erected and endowed some alms-houses in three several
counties. Upon special occasions she made large donations to charita-
ble uses.
In the sickness of which she died, she gave some remarkable proofs of
the sincerity of her piety, such as the fervour of her spirit to persevere
in well-doing to the end—her breathing after Christ, and desiring to be
dissolved, and to be with him, which is best of all—her deep and painful
sense of the low estate of religion, and the profession of it in the world
—her submission to the divine will and disposal, freely surrendering up
herself to her great Lord and owner, to do with her for life or death as
he pleased — her peace of conscience. In former sicknesses, she had
enjoyed much serenity, but she never had had a more placid and resign-
ed frame of soul than at this season. The strength of her faith appear-
ed by her recommending an interest in Christ as the highest and most
suitable cordial in a fainting hour, when all other comforts forsake.
These were some of her last words.
A learned and experienced minister, who lived not far from her, was
sometimes with her. The occasion of his going to her, and his business
with her, cannot be better expressed than in his own words, which are
as follow : -
“Though,” saith he, “I was seldom with her myself, yet, these fif-
teen years I lived so near her, as that I might have easily heard the ru-
mour, if she had lain under any manner of scandal. But such was her
pious and unblameable life, that slander itself durst not so much as nib-
ble at it. The little converse I had with her afforded me opportunity to
know her more intimately than many who did not see her holy course;
for her business with me was no other than to open the state of her
soul, to confess her infirmities, to produce her evidences for heaven, and
to desire my judgment of them, together with my counsel and comfort,
and further to ask my advice for such works of public benefit which she
charitably intended, and afterwards liberally performed. Upon trial, I
found that she had a safe and well-settled state of soul, not free from all
degree of fears, and smaller doubtings of herself, and far from a pre-
sumptuous, unhumbled, and self-justifying spirit. Her evidences were
sound, and her discernment of them so clear and sure, as enabled her to
conclude her right to everlasting life, and so with the greater peace to
think on death; the which evidences, as she had opened them to me
not long before, so she did it over again in her sickness, not many days
before her death. At which time, after complaints of such imperfec-
tions of grace as were her trouble, she professed the full dedication of
herself to God, her firm consent to his covenant, her earnest desires after
fºrfect holiness, and her trust in the mediation and merits of her Re-
deemer.”
II
82 MEMOIRS OF LADY ARMYNE.
As this excellent woman lived to God, so he was pleased to give her
a long life, enriched with many and distinguishing mercies. Though
she had been long troubled with a sore and dangerous disorder, that of
the stone, and had endured painful and perilous paroxysms and critical
fits, yet, it pleased God in her latter years to give her great ease and
freedom from it. Though it is not improbable but that this distemper
was the root of that fainting aguishness which put a period to her days,
yet, near the eightieth year of her age, she served God in competent
health and serenity of mind.
Though she sprang from an ancient and honourable family, inclined
to the Romish religion, yet God was her teacher, and confirmed her not
only in the Protestant faith, but also in the true love, seriousness, and prac-
tice of the pure religion she professed. She was not like those deluded
formalists who contend most furiously for this religion against that, or
for that religion against this, while in truth they have no religion at all,
but will violently persecute, or at least bitterly reproach such as are not
of their church, or way, as erroneous, irreligious persons, while nothing
can prevail with them to list themselves on Christ’s side, and declare war
against the flesh, the world, and the devil. She was not addicted to
sects or novelties upon pretence of rising to the highest form; but she
truly took the height of her religion to consist in the height of love to
God and man, and in close and constant obedience to Christ, and reli-
ance on his mediation.
Though, according to her rank, she lived in the decency of a plenti-
ful estate, yet it was accompanied with humility and lowliness of mind.
Her prudence, sobriety, and gravity, were very exemplary; and her im-
partiality in loving all who were true Christains, was truly signal. She
much disliked divisions and contentious wranglings. She was not of
their mind who, one would think, take it to be a mark of Christ’s dis-
ciples to be accusers of the brethren, and to reproach, and vilify, and
evil entreat his disciples; and, in a word, to deny them to be his, that
they may do these bad things with less dishonour and remorse. She
took it to be no countenancing of schism, to relieve such servants of
Christ in their distress as men may brand and treat as schismatics,
though she was an enemy to a dividing and factious spirit.
To live as this honourable and excellent lady did, in wisdom, humili-
ty, temperance, and in a charitable, peaceable, impartial religiousness,
attending to the great realities of godliness, and the preparation for the
day of our final account, will prove more safe and comfortable at the
last, than the proud, wrathful, turbulent religion, if it may be called so, of
such as strive to set up Christ and the Church, (more truly themselves,)
by persecution, or division, by hurting and destroying their fellow Chris-
tians, or reproaching and avoiding them as unworthy of communion.
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE
LADY ELIZABETH LANGHAM.
THE descent of this eminently pious person was from a noble family,
the house of Huntingdon, the earldom of which hath long continued
in the name of Hastings, as it does to the present day. But this truly
humble lady was never known, either in word or in deportment, to dis-
cover any elation of spirit for her high extraction ; nor was she ever
observed with any regret to view herself exceeded by the greater pomp
and more splendid retinue of others, who were inferior to her in quality.
When her husband, Sir James Langham, sometimes modestly excused
the tenuity of the condition she had espoused, (as she had married into a
family where she found an heir in being to a great part of his estate,) in
comparison of that from which she descended, she would interrupt such
discourses of his, by professing the high satisfaction she took in finding
herself in such a state of life, in which she enjoyed both liberty and
assistance for the works of true piety, and at the same time the addition
of an honourable and comfortable worldly competency.
Her education was at a school, or rather academy, and nursery of vir-
tue, as she was brought up under the constant inspection, and in the
constant converse of her mother, the Countess of Huntingdon; amidst
whose eminent parts and graces, she was formed into a more than com-
mon woman and Christian. Under her principally, she enjoyed an edu-
cation in religious retirement, of which she often took notice, and for
which she blessed God, as that which not only secured her from the
knowledge of vice by domestic examples, nothing of that nature daring
to appear under that noble lady’s government ; but also removed her
from the very intelligence of that wickedness which was acted abroad,
so that she had the happiness of being ignorant of the vices of other
great personages, even so much as only by hearsay.
As for those principles that might qualify her for a virtuous life, as
she had an opportunity of learning them from the practice of those with
whom she conversed, so more especially from the grave and frequent
instructions of the lady her mother, who, that the whole compass of
duty might be the more easily imprinted in her daughter’s memory, took
the pains to digest her instructions into verse; by which method she
the more readily insinuated them into the minds and hearts both of this
our lady and her other sisters.
By these means, it pleased God that the mother had much comfort
in her daughters, but especially in this lady, whose soul was so pliant
and ductile to receive the impressions of such an excellent stamp,as that
they appeared in the happy improvements which she made in every
future stage of life; of which weshall find the striking proofs in what we
have farther to relate concerning her.
As to her childhood, it had something of uncommon excellency in it,
besides the presage of what was yet to come. The seeds of true piety
84 MEMOIRS OF
and devotion broke forth and showed themselves very early, not only in
the bud and blossom, but in the fruit; so that, from her very early days,
such an impression of the fear of God possessed her heart, as made her
a diligent performer of religious duties, and a strict observer of the Lord's-
day,even to a degree of exactness beyond most persons,and yet not beyond
the rule laid down in Isa. lviii. 13. She would neither discourse her-
felf, nor willingly hear others discoursing on any common concerns
upon that holy day. As she grew up to greater capacity, to this nega-
tive accuracy, she added a conformity to the rules of the strictest godli-
ness, not only by hearing the word preached, but by digesting it by
meditation and conference; being no less studious, on that day especial-
ly, to become a proficient in the mysteries of practical godliness, than
the common days of the week to furnish herself with other knowledge
that tended to accomplish her in the civil life.
This worthy lady was from her infancy conscientiously dutiful and
obedient to her parents, even to the very smallest punctilios in which she
had the least intimation of their pleasure. So that her mother upon
a special occasion perceiving her, from the misapprehension of some
advice she gave her, to be more affected then what she desired,
was obliged to explain herself to her, and lay this down as a general
rule for her, “That several things which she had spoken to her, were
never intended as peremptory commands, but only as advices and coun-
sels, which in things of indifferency must not be overcharged.” More
than this, her mother has been heard to say, “That she was the child
that never offended her in all her life.” * .
As the young lady advanced in years, she was observed to be quite
strict in justice, and exact in keeping her word, which that she might
the more carefully observe, she was very circumspect and sparing in
making promises, and not lavish of discourse. She spoke much to her-
self, and little to others; insomuch that a noble person of a very discern-
ing judgment, and no less strict piety, who had the advantage of being a
witness to almost all her life, hath been heard to say, ‘That she believed
this lady had the least account to give for words of any that she ever knew.”
But she laid not this restraint upon her tongue for want of abilities for
conversation, nor for want of matter upon which to discourse, for she had
great intellectual accomplishments, and those improved by much learning,
by which she was qualified to converse with persons of eminent literature.
She was exceeding modest, and decently grave in her whole behaviour,
not from any heaviness of constitution, nor affection for morose and reserv-
ed virtue, but from a just apprehension how contrary to an exact strictness
of life, which she had laid down for herself, and how unsuitable to the re-
putation of her sex, a too sanguine deportment was often found. Yet, that
she was not cynically averse from a decent and proper degree of affa-
bility and courtesy, eminently appeared in that she used to receive the
visits of the meanest of her neighbours with very great kindness, and
would converse with them with great condescension; and as any of
them appeared to her to savour more of godliness, she would, upon oc-
casion, add a becoming proportion of familiarity, studiously declining to
admit any into her bosom, but such as by exact observation she found
to answer that character of worth, by which she first estimated herself,
and then made choice of her intimate friends; not that of greatness, but
goodness.
LADY LANGHAM. 85
She showed her courtesy to all sorts of persons, even to such whose
necessities made them petitioners for her bounty. These she entertain-
ed with great affability ; so that what was once said of Titus the Ro-
man emperor might be truly said of her, “that no persons departed out of
her presence discontented.” Even those to whom she refused her alms,
(and some persons are not proper objects for a discreet charity,) she would
so handsomely reprove for not using their bodily strength to procure their
livelihood in a more creditable way, that they have seemed to go away
no less satisfied with her prudent and seasonable counsel, than they
would have been with her bounty.
Her inviting aspect so emboldened the poor to entreat her help and
tronage, her compassionate heart made her so sensible of their con-
dition, and her prudence so directed her to manage their causes, that
as she was employed in many of their addresses to several of her relations
on whom they depended, so, she prosecuted their suits in such a man-
ner, that she generally proved successful, meeting with such a bless-
ing from God on her charitable endeavours, as the goodness of the
causes in which she engaged might warrant her to expect.
Her very servants had a share in the obliging condescension of her
conversation; for, though she well understood her own quality, and
eould keep them at a convenient distance, yet she mingled so much
mildness in her carriage towards them, that she never was observed to
utter a hasty or passionate expression to any of them, though she had
Sometimes great provocation. --.
She was of so innocent a deportment, even from her childhood, that
one of ability sufficient to observe, and of integrity sufficient to clear
the relation from the least suspicion of flattery, gives her this charac-
ter:-" That during the space of ten years, in which she lived in her
mother's family, she could never observe in this lady any unbecoming
word or action, or any thing, with which if the whole world had been
acquainted, would have in the least degree tended to her just diminu-
tion or disparagement.”
She studied much how to gratify the tempers of those with whom she
conversed in all lawful ways, so that she hath been often observed to
deny herself to please others. This excellent disposition rendered her,
even in matters of argument, which she wanted not abilities to manage
to good purpose, not obstinately tenacious of her own opinions, but
obligingly compliant to the judgment of others, where conscience of
duty did not require the contrary.
These qualities furnished her with excellent constituents for a friend,
and accordingly she eminently shone in that character. She did not
hastily admit any to her bosom acquaintance ; but having once re-
ceived any to that intimacy, she was candidly free and open in com-
municating what her judgment, which was ever riper than her years,
suggested to be most for the advantage of their spiritual interests,
whether in the way of advice, or comfort, or reproof; for which last,
the most painful exercise of friendship, she always reserved a liberty
even to her choicest and nearest friends, and which she constantly
managed with remarkable moderation and tenderness; and yet, she
was at the same time so severely conscientious in the discharge of this
truly friendly office, that, having frequent occasions to receive visits
from and return visits to persons of her acquaintance, who made the

86 MEMOIRS OF
reverend names of Jesus and Lord interjections in their ordinary dis-
course, she made it a case of conscience whether she did not greatly
neglect her duty in not reproving them for it.
And that she might not appear more ‘rigid to others in this kind
than she was to herself, her own life was a comment upon those words
of the Apostle, Eph. v. 15, “See that ye walk circumspectly.” For,
so exact was her own walk, that her care was not only to avoid what
she condemned, but what she did not suspect was amiss in the con-
versation of others; so that her conscience would not permit her to
pardon in herself what her charity induced her to indulge in others.
And indeed she was always remarkable for a tender conscience, that
took the alarm at the smallest sin, or but the appearance of it. Among
which take these two instances out of many others that might be
given. In her younger years, she addressed herself to her governess
with tears, entreating her to forgive her, “for that in her childhood
she was conscious that she had been wanting in affection to her, for
that she thought she did not then love her.” A fault of which surely
others are far moreºuilty, and yet are less troubled for it. Another
time, in her more mature age, when she had mildly enough threatened
a child over whom she had some inspection committed to her, that if
the child did not do such a thing she would not love her, she presently
recalled her speech as too hard, saying, “Alas! God deals not so with
us, notwithstanding our continual disobedience.”
As a friend, she observed that the exchange of kindness is the fuel that
feeds the flame of mutual affections, and keeps it from going out, or
burning dimly; and she accounted it the greatest solecism in friendship,
to be suspicious in receiving, as well as parsimonious in returning kind-
messes; and therefore, what of this nature she received, she would
not, though sometimes possibly there were probable grounds so to do,
interpret it amiss, professing that she abhorred the suspicion of a sinister
design in kindness, as the very bane of gratitude; and in her returns
she was nobly obliging, as studying rather to stand in her friends’ books
a creditor than a debtor.
We have before taken notice of her devotion as an early blossom; but
it had not the fate that often happens to the first flowery births of the
spring, to be blasted and fall off before it came to maturity. As she
grew in years, she grew also in grace, and in acquaintance and com-
munion with God, and kept up a constant correspondence with the
Court of Heaven. t
When she entered into the marriage state, she abated not of her
devotion. Her constant retirements for that purpose were answerable
to those of Daniel, chap. vi. 10, three times in the day. And after the
decease of her excellent sister-in-law, Dr. Langham’s wife, who went
to the grave some weeks before her, as if she had taken the alarm to
prepare for her own dissolution, which was so shortly to follow, she
more than doubled that proportion, even to David’s seven times a day,
Psalm crix. 164. *- : *
In her devotions, she employed herself not only # prayer and medi-
tation, but also in the constant reading and study of the sacred Scrip-
tures, which always took up a considerable part of her daily hours of
retirement, together with the reading more or less of the writings of
some learned practical divines, with whose books her closet was well
LADY LANGHAM. 87
furnished. She also made it part of her devout exercises, to read over
one sermon every day, generally out of her note-books; for she con-
stantly took down the sermons she heard: by which practice, and by
frequent inculcation, she fixed in her memory all that she heard, and
had it in readiness for the direction of her conversation, whensoever she
had occasion to make use of it.
To this proportion of constant devotion, which she assigned for herself
every day, if we add her great care to fill up all the rest of her time in
edifying conversation, we cannot but esteem her a great example of Eph.
v. 16, where the apostle commands us “to redeem the time;” for “she
bought time out,” as the word signifies, of the hands of those profligate
wasters of our precious minutes, unprofitable pastimes and recreations,
whence it was, that she never allowed herself to see any masques, inter-
ludes, or plays, or to play at cards, or the like games; and that because
she doubted whether the expense of so much time as such diversions
commonly consume would be allowed on the great day of her audit.
She had an high esteem of every part of the holy Bible ; yet there
was one part of it, the book of Psalms, with which she seemed to be
most passionately affected, perhaps because she found such an agree-
ment between her own heart and the spirit of that book. This her
affection she showed by reading, or causing to be read, one or more of
the Psalms constantly at her hour of repose in the evening, which, by
meditation and discourse, she used to improve to her own benefit, and
the benefit of those who were about her.
When she lay down on her bed, it was her custom to repeat some
Psalm or another which she had by heart, and in the same manner she
opened her morning; so that her sleep was a parenthesis between her
morning and her evening devotions.
In her course of life, she was strictly careful to avoid all manner of
sin, and very solicitous, in all emergencies that were of consequence, to
understand what her duty was, that she might accordingly practise it;
for, as she made God’s testimonies her delight, so she made them her
counsellors; Psalm crix. 24. So that she never determined any doubtful
matter without great deliberation, and the best advice she could obtain.
She regularly attended the public ordinances. And that she might
make the best improvement of the company of good ministers, whose
lips God has appointed to preserve knowledge, she would in their pri-
wate conferences, as well as in their public ministrations, seek the law
at their mouth, Mal. ii. 7. Accordingly, when she met with any
divines of note at her father-in-law, Sir John Langham's table, she
would desire her husband to set on foot some profitable discourse which
might give the company the advantage of their conversation, professing
that she judged it quite absurd, and incongruous to reason as well as re-
ligion, that physicans and lawyers should be so commonly entertained
with discourses sº fable to their respective functions, and that divines
ºed with things out of the verge of their profession,
nay, indeed, wºmatters quite foreign to their sacred office.
Such was the déºtion of this excellent lady towards God . And
she had as well learned her duty towards her neighbours, of which she
gave the brightest evidences in every relation and capacity of life.
Her husband had the chief place in her affections. She so entirely
loved him that she has been heard to say, “that she could even die for





88 MEMOIRS OF
him.” She expressed her high regard to him by her dutiful compli-
ance with whatsoever she observed to be his pleasure. She never re-
ceived the least intimation of what was his mind, though delivered as
a request, but it had with her the force of a command. So that no in-
stances of marriage-happiness in others ever led him to reflect on any
deficiency in his own; but rather produced a greater complacency in
his own felicity, as he found himself happy in his own choice, even be-
yond the most eminent examples. And not only her love and dutiful
deportment, but her uncommon learning also, rendered her a most de-
lightful companion to her husband. She was capable of conversing
with him upon points both of divinity and humanity, and that in more
languages than one, for she was able to make use of learned authors
in their own tongues, not needing the aid of translations. She under-
stood the Latin, French, and Italian languages. Amidst these extraor-
dinary accomplishments, she was not at all elated; so that her husband
was a perfect stranger to all those inconveniences which some have
imagined necessarily accompany a learned wife. She always behaved
herself to him as her lord and head, and made use of her own know-
ledge and learning only to capacitate her to make the best improvement
of his, from whom she was ready to receive instruction.
To her mother she did not in the least forget her duty, when her mar-
riage dismissed her from her government, but she still allowed her the
next seat in her affections to that of her husband; and so behaved her-
self towards her, that her mother not only always esteemed her as a
very dutiful and deserving daughter, but, as her own expression was,
“an excellent friend.”
To her father-in-law she paid the same duty (according to the par-
ticular direction given her by her mother at the time of her marriage)
which she showed to her own mother, as considering that where the or-
dinance of God brings persons into such a near relation as that of hus-
band and wife, it makes also a proportionable union to their respective
natural relations on both sides.
To the memory of her predecessor in that relation in which she stood
to Sir James Langham, she testified (a thing perhaps not very usual in
such a case) a very singular respect, eagerly inquiring after her special
virtues, which she designed for her own imitation, and giving the good
which she heard concerning her its just praises.
To the children which Sir James had by his first lady, Providence
having denied him any by this, except one in expectation, to whom the
death of the mother rendered the womb a grave, she was, in her great
care and tenderness towards them, so much more than a mother-in-law,
that it was impossible for any but those who knew otherwise not to have
mistaken her for their own mother. So solicitously did she interest herself
in both the education of them and provision for them, and so concerned
was she for them on all occasions of bodily distempeº
deserved to have rendered the name of a step-mothe ame of honour
and delight, and exhibited an example from whighewsºnothers them-
selves might not disdain to learn a law of kind ºs towards their own
offspring.
From the daughter, about eleven years of age, she constantly required
a repetitien by heart of the sermons which she heard; and for this task
she had, by her instructions, so methodized the memory of this young




LADY LANGHAM. 89
child, that she was able to analyze a sermon containing thirty or forty
particulars, with the most remarkable enlargements upon them.
This religious care of her children she continued not only during her
health, but even in the time of her sickness also, so far as her weakness
would permit. And to show that she minded them so long as she
minded any thing in this world, even upon her dying bed she requested
her husband, though he needed not any such incitement to his duty,
“to train them up in the exercises of strict godliness, and to take care
that they were taught such evidences of salvation, as might one day
support them in their dying agonies.”
To her servants she carried herself with such mildness and condescen-
sion, as if they had not been properly servants, but a sort of inferior
friends; a deportment that wrought in them a kind of awful love, and
produced the service of the heart, and not that of the eye, the too common
vice of persons in that station. She extended her care even to the
meanest of her servants, and that not only for their bodies, but for their
souls, calling her maids, who were more immediately under her inspec-
tion, to an account in writing, if they could write, of the sermons which
they heard, helping and supplying the deficiencies out of her own exact
notes. She would call them up early to wait upon God in their morning
devotions, before they came to her ; and if any one among them (for
she would examine them severally) confessed, or by silence betrayed
a neglect of private devotion, she would immediately dismiss them from
a present attendance upon her to seek God by prayer, and that not with-
out some reprehension for giving her service the precedency to that of
their Maker. And this care she took, as she would frequently say to her
husband, “from a deep conviction of this truth, that governors of families
are to be accountable to God for the souls of the meanest persons under
their roof.” This course, so far as she could bear it, she continued even in
her last sickness; for when her own bodily distemper kept any of them
from the church to attend her on the Lord’s-day, she would tell them,
“that nothing but an absolute necessity should have been a sufficient
reason with her for detaining them at home. But yet,” said she, “your
minds are at liberty. Let God have as much worship as you can give
him. Lift up your hearts. Remember it is the Lord’s-day.”
She not only showed her care of her servants while they continued
with her, but expressed it to such as went from her, of which the follow-
ing is an excellent example. When a servant of the lowest class came
to take her leave of her, she gave her, with other proofs of her kindness
and charity, much good counsel, and entreated her husband to make
some additions to her benevolence, but especially to dismiss her with a
second donation of good advice. -
Her charity to the poor was very eminent. She stayed not till they
made known their necessities, but even drew out from them those com-
plaints which their modesty would have suppressed, by her particular
inquiry into their conditions, that so she might find out in what way
she might be beneficial and helpful to them. When she was informed
of any of their wants being so great as exceeded an ordinary work of
charity, she was ever solicitous how she might procure a proportionable
supply for them. Her charity did not extend only to the bodies of those
whom she relieved, but she gave to most of them, especially to those
whose great exigencies would probably render them more careful and
12
90 . MEMOIRS OF
inclinable to fall in with her wishes, a double alms, that of her Chris-
tian bounty, and that of her Christian counsel.
But a thousand instances of her great and frequent charity there was
reason to believe, escaped the observation of any but of those who re-
ceived it ; she being in acts of this nature contented with the notice of
God, and her own conscience, guiding herself by our Saviour's rule,
“Let not thy left hand know what thy right does,” Matt. vi. 3. And
yet, to the glory of God, and her own commendation and honour, the
good deeds of this kind which she studiously concealed in her life-time
came to light in a great measure after her death, as appeared in the
multitudes of poor people who came thronging to have a sight of her
hearse, and who showed that it was not so much curiosity as affection
that brought them, by the bitter lamentations and tears with which they
bewailed her death, as the widows did that of Dorcas, Acts, ix, 39, as
their universal and irreparable loss. *
In the exercise of this her charity, out of her great fear lest she should
be too well thought of, if others knew the proportion of it, and that she
might be assured that it was not diverted from the right channel, she
commonly trusted no hands with it but her own, making it her care
before she went abroad at any time, to furnish her poor man’s purse with
such moneys as were proper to be distributed among such necessitous
objects, which Providence before her return might cast in her way.
One remarkable passage must not be omitted under this head of her
charity, though it only shows her judgment in the choice of fit persons
upon whom to bestow it. She was once told of the prodigious bounty
of some of her ancestors towards religious places and persons, as also
for the education of young students in the Universities. As soon as
this last sort of charity was mentioned, she particularly applauded it,
and thus expressed her mind upon in. “Indeed,” said she, “it is the best
charity to promote the good of souls, and it is a much nobler bounty
to be the means of thus consecrating the life of one, than to relieve the
age and infirmities of twenty.”
She always declared a great detestation of talebearing, the bane of
love and friendship. She always suspected a passionate accuser, as
being commonly more faulty than the party accused. In differences of
this nature which came under her cognizance, she constantly used this
healing method, first to allay the acrimony of the contending spirits,
and then to accommodate the difference itself. *
Indeed, her charity in all points answered the description which the
great apostle St. Paul gives of that heavenly grace, which to read is to
comprise the whole history of her life in a short epitome, 1 Cor. xiii, 4.
Charity suffers long, and is kind, envies not, vaunts not itself, is not
puffed up, does not behave itself unseemly, seeks not her own, is not
easily provoked, thinks no evil, rejoices not in iniquity, but rejoices in
the truth, bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures
all things.”
. The sickness which proved mortal to her, suddenly seized her, being
the small-pox, disguised under the relics of a fever, from which, as to ap-
pearance, she was almost recovered. The arrest of death, on the very
borders of expected health, might well have discomposed any mind but
such an one as hers; but she was always so well secured by the Christian
armour, that no event could befall her for which she was not prepared.
LADY LANGHAM. 91
During the twilight of hopes and fears, which for a time held both
her physicians and relations in suspense concerning her, she always
seemed with St. Paul, (Phil. i. 23,) “to have a desire to depart, and
be with Christ;” entreating her dear husband, who was humbly impor-
tunate for a longer enjoyment of her, “ that he would not pray for her
life, but for her soul, that God would make her fit to die, or, if he pleased
to gratify the desires of those who so affectionately wished her recovery,
that he would so sanctify his hand to her that she might obtain grace
from him to pay her vows;” for indeed her great aim and design were
to be perfecting holiness in the fear of God; and the request she made
for herself in the midst of her feverish paroxysm was, “that by the burn-
ing heat,” as she said, “she might be purified and refined ;” conforma-
ble to which was that petition of hers in a former sickness, a little
before her marriage, which she expressed with most emphatical vehe-
mency, “O that I could do the whole will of God tº
In other moments of her last sickness, when her husband had offer-
ed up his earnest requests for her recovery to health and a longer life,
she would, after prayer was over, kindly chide the exuberancy of his
affections, and desire him to rest content in the promise of God, “that
all things should work together for his good, (Rom. viii. 28,) and to
resign himself, as she wholly did, to the Divine will ; withal telling
him, that he had no reason to let loose the reins to sorrow, if he saw
her die with good evidences of her going to heaven.” And to allay his
passions in his greatest fears of that separation which he so much de-
precated, she observed to him, “We came not into the world together,
nor can we expect to go out of it together ; yet, it is a great satisfac-
tion to me that I am going there, where, after a while, you will follow
me.”
During the whole time of her sickness, she was much concerned about
a right deportment under the afflicting hand of God, and afraid lest
the restlessness occasioned by her disease might be the fruit of im-
patience; for which reason she would oftentimes, with an holy jea-
lousy of herself, ask those who were about her, “whether she did not
seem to them to be deficient in patience 'P' and she appeared to be trou-
bled at the remembrance of the carriage of some Christian friends,
with whom she had been present on their sick beds, as conscious to
herself how short she came of them.
She had some conflicts with temptations, if rather they were not the
tenderness of her own conscience, which was apt to smite her for the
smallest omissions, of which they who knew the strictness of her walk-
ing with God, thought she had little reason to complain; and the very
complaint, in the nature of it, discovered an eminent proficiency in
holiness. But it pleased God that these thin and light clouds were
soon dispelled, the smiles of the Divine countenance breaking through
them, and filling her soul with comfort; so that she told a friend who
visited her, “that she blessed God, that, instead of a longer stay in a
world full of troubles and miseries, He had given her the sight of a
better country, and had cleared her title to it, and interest in it, so that
she was willing to resign her soul into the hands of her heavenly
Father, as knowing whom she had trusted, and to quit her earthly
tabernacle in exchange for that house not made with hands, eternal
in the heavens.”
92 MEMOIRS OF LADY LANGHAM.
" And thus fell what was mortal of this excellent woman, to her own
infinite gain, but to the inexpressible loss of all her surviving friends
and acquaintance, but especially of her near relations. . Though indeed
it was her advice to her tenderly loving and affectionate husband in the
time of her health, “to take heed of over-loving her, wishing him to
beware of it, as he desired not to part with her; for,” said she, “God
will endure no rival.” -
v **
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
MARY, COUNTESS OF WARWICK.”
This lady was the daughter of Richard Boyle, the first Earl of Cork,
who was born a private gentleman, and the younger brother of a young-
er brother, and to no other heritage than what is expressed in the words,
God’s Providence is my Inheritance, which motto he inscribed on the
magnificent buildings he erected, and indeed ordered to be placed on his
tomb. By that Providence succeeding his unremitting and wise indus-
try, he raised himself to such honour and estate, and left behind him
such a dignified family, as has very rarely if ever before been known;
and all this with such an unspotted reputation for integrity, as that
the most envious scrutiny could discoverno blemish in it, and that only
º the brighter by the malignant attempts made to obscure and de-
ase it.
The mother of our lady was Catherine, only daughter of Sir Geof-
frey Fenton, principal secretary of state in Ireland. She was married to
Mr. Boyle, July 25, 1603, and obtained this most honourable testimony
from her husband: “I never,” says he, “demanded any marriage portion,
neither promise of any, it not being in my consideration; yet, her father,
after her marriage, gave me one thousand pounds in gold with her.
But that gift of his daughter unto me, I must ever thankfully acknow-
ledge, as the crown of all my blessings; for she was a most religious,
virtuous, loving, and obedient wife unto me all the days of her life, and
the happy mother of all my hopeful children, whom with their posterity
I beseech God to bless.” f
By that excellent lady, the Earl of Cork had fifteen children. The
Hon. Robert Boyle, famous as a philosopher, more famous as a Chris-
tian, was one of them. Mary, the seventh daughter, and who was
married to Charles Rich, Earl of Warwick, is the subject of our memoirs.
In opening her character to the public view, we shall begin with that
which had the first place in her regard, piety towards God. We shall
make some observations on her entrance upon it—on her progress in
it—on the various exercises of it—and her holy zeal and industry to
promote and encourage religion in others.
As to her entrance upon religion, or making it her business in good
earnest, though she had received a good education, and had been in-
structed in the grounds of religion in her youth, yet, she would confess
that she understood nothing of the life and power of godliness upon her
heart, and indeed had no spiritual sense of it till some years after she
* Dr. Anthony Walker, rector of Fyfield, in Essex, preached a sermon at Felsted at the
Countess's funeral, and afterwards printed it, under the title of, “The virtuous Woman found,
her Loss bewailed, and her Character exemplified: to which are annexed, Some of her Lady-
ship's pious and useful Meditations.” To this publication we have been principally obliged
for the memoirs of this excellent lady, as well as her pious compositions. z -
f Birch's Life of the Hon. Robert Boyle, p. 10.
94 MEMOIRS OF
was married. Nay, she declared that she came into the family in
which she lived and died with so much honour, with prejudices and
strange apprehensions as to matters of religion, and was almost affright-
ed with the disadvantageous accounts she had received concerning it;
but when she came to see the regular performance of Divine worship, and
hear the useful, edifying preaching of the most necessary, practical, and
substantial truths,and observe the order and good government maintained
in it,and met with the favour of her right honourable father-in-law, who
had always an extraordinary esteem and affection for her, her groundless
prepossessions dispersed like mists before the sun, and were succeeded
by the most cordial approbation.
The providence of God made use of two more remote means of her
conversion,-afflictions and retirement. Divine wisdom and grace may be
very adorable in adapting suitable means to accomplish the good purposes
of God towards men; and afflictions and retirement, in this lady’s circum-
stances, appeared to be admirably chosen out by Providence for her,
Her great impediment and difficulty lay in her love of the pleasures and
vanities of the world, which she neither knew how to reconcile with the
strictness of religion, nor yet could be content to part with for that whose
nobler delights she at that time had never experienced. The Lord
therefore gradually drew off her mind from the pleasures and vanities
of the world, by rendering insipid, through her afflictions, what had too
much attached her regards; and by granting her a happy retirement, to
acquaint herself more thoroughly with the things of God; by which she
was enabled to set her seal to that testimony which God gives to spiritual
wisdom, that her ways are ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths
are peace,” (Prov. iii. 17;) which, indeed, she would frequently and freely
do to her friends, by assuring them that she had no cause to repent the
exchange of the shadowy and unsubstantial pleasures of this world, for the
solid and satisfactory joys she found in religion, thereby inciting and en-
couraging them to make the experiment, not doubting but that upon
the trial they would be of the same sentiments with herself. Two
more immediate helps which God blessed to the good of her soul, were,
the preaching of the word, and Christian conference. The pressing the
necessity of speedy and true repentance, and showing the danger of
procrastination, of putting off and stifling conviction, seemed to turn
the wavering, trembling balance, and to fix the scale of her resolu-
tion.
This happy change took place about thirty years before her death;
and from this time, (for, though her conversation before was by no means
vicious, but sweet and inoffensive, yet she would confess that her mind
was vain,) she walked most closely, circumspectly, and accurately with
God; and very few, if any, from what was seen in her, ever chose the
better part with more resolution, or more unreservedly devoted them-
selves to the love, fear, and service of God, learning to be religious in
good earnest, and to increase and grow in grace, and in the knowledge
of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. ar
To promote and strengthen religion in her soul, she, like the wise man,
(Matt. vii. 24.) dug deep, to lay her foundations upon a rock. She made
a strict scrutiny into the state of her soul, and weighed the reasons
of her choice in the balance of the sanctuary; and with the other build-
er in the gospel, (Luke, xiv. 28.) sat down and considered with her.
THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK. 95
self what it might cost to finish her spiritual edifice,and whether she were
furnished to bear the charge. She examined whether the grounds of
her hope were firm, and such as would not illude and shame her, and
whether her evidences for heaven were such as would abide the test,
and be approved by Scripture. As to the various exercises of religion, or
the practice of it, it appeared to be her great design to walk worthy of
God in all well-pleasing, to adorn her professed subjection to the gospel
by a conversation becoming it, and to show forth His praises who had
called her into his marvellous light. Accordingly, she was very careful
and circumspect in abstaining from all appearance of evil. In all doubt-
ful cases, her rule was to take the safest side ; for she would say, that
she was sure it would do her no hurt to let alone what was any way
dubious as to its lawfulness. While, therefore, none were further from
censuring others, or usurping judgment over their liberties, yet, for her.
self, she would never allow herself the addition of an artificial beauty,
using neither paint nor patches; neither would she play at any games,
because, besides many other inconveniences, she thought them great
wasters of precious time, of which she was nobly avaricious. There
were three things, she said, that were too hard for her, and which she
confessed she could not comprehend :
“How those who professed to believe an eternal state, and its depend-
ence upon this inch of time, could complain of time’s lying as a dead
commodity on their hands, which they were at a difficulty to dispose of:
“How professing Christians, who would seem devout at church, could
laugh at others for being serious out of it, and burlesque the Bible, and
turn religion into ridicule.”
And finally, “How intelligent men could take care of souls, and sel-
dom come among them, and never look after them.”
Many years before her death she began to keep a diary. She at
first wrote her diary every evening; but finding the evening inconve-
nient from her lord’s long illness, which occasioned her many inevita-
ble interruptions at that season, she changed it into the quiet, silent
morning, always rising early. In this diary, among other things, she
recorded the daily frame of her own heart towards God, his signal pro-
vidences to herself, and sometimes to others, the gracious manifesta-
tions of God to her soul, answers of prayer, temptations resisted, or
whatever might be useful for caution or encouragement, or afford her
matter of thankfulness or humiliation.
She used to style prayer heart's-ease, as she often experienced it. On
the very day before she died, she shut up herself above an hour, which
she spent in fervent private prayer, notwithstanding her indisposition.
Indeed, prayer was the very element in which she lived, and actually
died : the vital breath of her soul, that wafted it immediately to heaven.
But, if she exceeded herself in any thing as much as she excelled
others in most things, it was in meditation. She usually walked two
hours every morning to meditate alone, in which divine art she was a
most accomplished proficient, both as to set and occasional contempla-
tions; in set contemplations choosing some particular subject, which she
would press upon her heart with the most intense thoughts, till she had
drawn out its juice and nourishment; and in occasional meditations like:
a bee extracting honey from all occurrences; whole volumes of which
she hathleft behind her. -
96 MEMOIRS OF
After she had consecrated the day with reading the Scriptures,
prayer, and meditation, a short dressing time, and ordering her domes-
tic affairs, or reading some good book, employed the remainder of the
morning, till the season came for chapel-prayers, from which she never
absented herself, and in which she was ever reverent, and a devout ex-
ample to her whole family.
She was a strict observer of the Lord’s-day, which may be truly con-
sidered as the best external preservative of religion; for it is very evident,
that the streams of godliness are deep or shallow, according as this bank
is kept up or neglected. This lady was a very serious and diligent
hearer of the word, and constantly after sermon recollected what she
had heard, sometimes by writing, always by thinking, and calling it to
mind, that she might make it her own, and turn it into practice ; not
content to be a forgetful, fruitless hearer, but being a doer, that she
might be blessed in her deed : James, i. 25. t
Nor was she less solicitous to make others good than to be good her-
self. She well remembered our Saviour’s charge to Peter: “When
thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren,” Luke, xxii. 32. She
set herself to build God’s spiritual temple, and applied herself to it with
all her might. She had a seraphic zeal for the glory of God, and a great
love for immortal souls, and hence she was engaged to promote religion
with the utmost industry, which, that she might accomplish with greater,
advantage, she would in company introduce good discourse, to prevent
idle or worse communication. She would drop a wise sentence, or
moral or holy apothegm, with which she was richly furnished from
her own making, or her collection, that suited with, or was not very
remote from what was talked of ; and by commending or improving
that, she would turn the conversation into a useful channel without
offence, and even with pleasure. She indeed kept a book of such wise
and weighty sayings; greatly valuing sentences which contained much
use and worth in a little compass. The following were a few out of the
many :
“The almost Christian is the unhappiest of men; having religion
enough to make the world hate him, and yet not enough to make God
love him. #
“The servants of God should be as bold for their master, as the
servants of the devil are for theirs. ..
“O Lord, what I give thee doth not please thee, unless I give thee.
myself. So, what thou givest me shall not satisfy me, unless thou give
me thyself. . . Y.
l “O Lord, who givest grace to the humble, give me grace to be hum-
ble.
“He loves God too little, who loves any thing with him, which he
loves not for him. *
“So speak to God as though men heard thee; so speak to men, as
knowing God hears thee.
“We should meditate on Christ’s cross, till we are fastened as close
to him as he was to the cross.
“By how much the more vile Christ made himſelf for us, by so much
the more precious should he be to us.
“He who takes up Christ's cross aright, shall find it such a burden.
as wings to a bird or sails to a ship. w º
THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK. 97
“It is a great honour to be almoner to the King of heaven. To give
is the greatest luxury. How indulgent then is God to annex future re-
wards to what is so much its own recompense !
“To be libelled for Christ is the best panegyric.
“Where affliction is heavy, sin is light.
“Sin brought death into the world, and nothing but death will carry
sin out of it. •
“The best shield against slanderers, is to live so that none may believe
them.
“He who revenges an injury, acts the part of an executioner; he
who pardons it, acts the part of a prince.
“Why are we so fond of that life that begins with a cry, and ends with
a groan P’
Where this excellent lady had particular kindness or personal inte-
rest, she would improve the authority of her friendship in free dis-
courses and arguments, and plead the cause of God and their own souls,
with such eloquence, that it was hard to resist the spirit with which she
spake. “Let me,” says the minister who writes her life, and was many
years well acquainted with her, “ echo from her lips, though, alas ! too
faintly, how she would, with melting charms and powerful strains, make
her attempts upon the friends for whom she had a kindness, and whom
she longed to rescue from ruin.”
“‘Come, come, my friend, you must be good; you shall be good. I
eannot be so unkind, nay, so unfaithful to the laws of friendship, as to
let you persist and perish in a way which you know as well as I leads
down to hell. It grieves my very soul to have so good a nature insnar-
ed against the dictates of its own light, by bad example, custom, or any
thing else.”—If they replied with excuses, she would stop them thus:
‘Pray, my friend, have patience: hear me out. I know, or guess at least,
what you would say, and I would not have you say it. It is bad to com-
mit sin, but it is worse to plead for it, and defend it. None sin so dan-
gerously as those who sin with excuses. The devil then plants a new
snare, when he gets into our tongues, to fasten us to our failings, or
when he raises an outwork in our own mouths, to secure the fort he pos-
sesses in our heart. I take it for granted, that all other holds were
quitted easily, could you conquer such or such a vice, too much by cus-
tom prevailing over you. Unhappy custom that dares prescribe against
God’s law —But, friend, use no arguments that will not hold at the day
of judgment. Though hand join in hand–you know what follows. No
example, custom, number, should have power over us, which cannot ex-
euse and secure us. But this is the mischief of sin lived in ; it bewitch-
es the heart to love it so, that it cannot leave it. CANNoT | So men
love to speak, but it is because they will not : that is, will use no endea-
vours to be rid of it. But, my friend, you must leave it ; there is no re-
medy, though it cost you trouble, smart, and self-denial. There is as
mueh as all this comes to, in cutting off a right hand, and plucking out
a right eye. I speak to you as to one in whom I have a party to help
me plead; I mean your conscience, and the belief of the Scriptures; for,
if you were one of those on whom you know I use to set my mark, I
would not give you this trouble, nor esteem myself under more than the
laws of general charity to wish you better, and should hardly venture
my little skill to make you so. But as for you, who still own God's au-
13
98 MEMOIRS OF
thority, and believe his word, and attend his worship; why should I
despair of making one part of yourself agree with the other, your prac-
tice with your convictions, your conversation with your conscience 1
And not to terrify you with the thunder-claps of wrath and vengeance,
and God’s judging you know whom—listen to the still voice. It is your
peculiar eminency to be kind and grateful; and because there is a kind of
magnetic virtue in these arguments which touches our temper, I shall at-
tack you on that side, hoping the strongest excellency of your nature
will prove the weakest defensative for sin, and to keep out God. You,
therefore, who are so good-natured, so kind, so grateful, that you never
think you have acquitted yourself sufficiently to those who have been
civil, or, as you are pleased to call it, obliging. Oh ! how can you be
so unkind and so ungrateful to God Almighty, the kindest friend, who
is so much beforehand with you, who hath given you so much good,
and is so ready to forgive you all your sins ! O that you, who, I dare
say, would take my word for anything else, would do me the honour to
take my word for Him who, I assure you, upon your sincere repentañce,
will be fully reconciled to you in Christ, and never so much as upbraid
your past neglects, but heal your backslidings, and love you freely.
And do not fear you shall have cause to repent of your repentance. No
man was ever yet a loser by God, and you shall not be the first. You
shall not lose your pleasures, but exchange them, defiling ones, for
them which are pure and ravishing. And let it not seem strange or
incredible to you, that there should be such things as the pleasures of
religion, because, perhaps, you never felt them. Alas! you have de-
prived yourself unhappily, by being incapable of them. New wine
must be put into new bottles. To say nothing of what the Scriptures
speak, of a day in God’s courts being better than a thousand, and of
joys unspeakable and full of glory, of the great peace they have who keep
God’s law, and that nothing shall offend them, and that wisdom’s ways
are pleasantness, let my weakness reason out the case with you. Do
you think that God’s angels, who excel in all perfection, have no de-
light because they have no flesh, no sense, no bodies, as men and beasts?
Or have our souls, the angels in these houses of clay, which are God’s
images, and the price of his blood, no objects, no employments, which may
yield them delight and satisfaction ? - Think not so unworthily of God,
or so meanly of yourself. Have not the strokes of your own fancy, or
the intellectual pleasures of your mind, sometimes transported you be-
yond all the charms of your senses, when they have chimed all in tune
together ? And cannot God, think you, who is a spirit, and so fit an ob-
ject for our souls, give them as great pleasures as any object of our taste
and sight ! Come, come, my friend, take my word for it, there is more
pleasure in the peace of a good conscience, in the well-grounded hope
that our sins are pardoned, in serving God, and in the expectation of eter-
nal life, than in all the pleasures in the world. Alas! I was once of
your mind; but I assure you, upon my word, I have really found more
satisfaction in serving God, than ever I found in all the good things
of this life, of which, you know, I have had my share. Try there-
fore ; dare to be good; resolve to be so thoroughly. If you do not find
it much better than I have told you, never take my word, or trust me
In Ore.
Thus, and much more powerfully, would our lady’s zeal for their good,
***
*
º
* *
THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK. 99
cause her to argue with her friends, that she might by holy violence at-
tract and allure them to be good and happy.
She took great care of the souls of her servants; and if she had any
ambition in her, it was to be the mistress of a religious family. This
appeared among others, in the following particulars: in exacting their
attendance on the public worship of God, and reverent behaviour there;
in personal instruction, and familiar persuasion of them ; in preparing
them for, and exhorting them to the frequent participation of the
Lord's Supper ; in dispersing good books in all the common rooms and
places of attendance, that they who were in waiting might not lose their
time, but well employ it ; and in making religion in her servants the
step to their preferment. For she used to make the 101st Psalm the
rule of her economics; and though she treated all her servants as
friends, yet they were her favourites who most remarkably feared the
Lord.
The good Countess had learned St. Paul’s lesson to perfection, “to
speak evil of no man.” Where she could not speak in commendation,
the worst injury she would do, was to be silent, unless it was to some
single friend, of whose taciturnity she was secured by experience. Nor
would she invidiously diminish the just praises of any who deserved
them, but would study to extenuate their other failings by presenting
the bright sides of their characters to conceal their dark ones.
As a wife, it may be truly said, that the heart of her husband safely
trusted in her; and that she did him good, and not evil, all the days of
her life. Never was woman more truly a crown or ornament to a man.
She always lived under the sense of the covenant of God which was
between them, upon her heart. She was an equal mixture of affection-
ate obedience and obediential affection. She covered and concealed
his infirmities, deeply sympathized in his long indispositions, attended
and relieved him with the greatest tenderness, and above all loved his
soul, and would both counsel him with a prudent zeal, and pray for him
with the strongest ardour and fervency. And he was not wanting in
her just praises. When the torrents of his sorrow were highest for the
death of his only son, he made it the deepest accent of his grief, “that
it would kill his wife,” which he said, “was more to him than an hun-
dred sons.” But actions speak louder than words: he gave her his
whole estate, as an honourable testimony of his grateful esteem of her
merits towards him, and left her sole executrix. Which trust, though
it cost her almost unspeakable labour and difficulties, she discharged
with such indefatigable pains, such conscientious exactness, and amaz-
ing prudence, that as she failed not of one tittle of his will till all was
executed, so she never gave or left occasion for the least complaining
from any interested person, but rendered all more than silent, satisfied ;
more than satisfied, applauding and admiring her prudent and honour-
able management of that great affair : an event which she owned to
God with much thankfulness, as no small mercy and blessing to her.
As for that noble estate which was to descend to others after her, she
would not have wronged it in the least, to have gained the disposal of
the whole; and therefore was at vast expenses in repairs both of the
mansion and the farms, though she herself had them only for a term. It
may be also truly said concerning her, that though none were more
ready to recede from their own right terminating in personal interestº,
wº a &
e ſº
* gº
4
*
*
100 MEMOIRs of
*
yet, that she was very strict and tenacious in whatever might concern
her successors, usually saying, “that whatever she lost herself, she would
never give occasion for them who came after her, to say that she had
hurt their estates, or wronged her trust, or them.”
She was an incomparable mother, as appeared in the education of her
son, the hopeful young Lord Rich,” who went to the grave before her,
and afterwards, of three young iadies her nieces, to whom she was in
kindness an own mother, though she was only an aunt-in-law. As they
were left with less plentiful portions, she would, even during her son’s
life, never leave pressing her lord to make noble provisions for them,
suitable to their birth and qualities.
She was a most tender and indulgent landlady, and would usually
say of her tenants, “Alas! poor creatures, they take a great deal
of pains; and I love to see them thrive and live comfortably, and I
cannot bear to see them brought into straits, and would, therefore,
without grudging or difficulty, have all things made convenient for
them.” And if they had sustained any considerable losses, she would
effectually consider them. As for her copyhold tenants, she would urge
with warmth the timely finishing of the rolls of her courts, and the de-
livery of their copies, declaring, “that she could not in conscience suffer
these things to be neglected, because it was all they had to show for their
estates.” A piece of justice this, not more honourable than necessary
in lords and ladies of manors.
As a neighbour, she was so kind and courteous, that it advanced the
rent of adjacent houses to be in such a near situation to her. Not only
her house and table, but her very countenance and heart, were open to
all persons of quality for a considerable circuit; and for the inferior sort,
if they were sick, or tempted, or in any distress of body or mind, to whom
should they apply but to the good Countess for assistance and relief? She
supplied them with surgical assistance and physic; and herself, (for she
would personally visit the meanest among them,) and the ministers whom
she would send to them, were their spiritual physicians.
As her soul was filled with the love of God, so she expressed her love
to men in the most exuberant munificence to all who stood in need of
it. In her charity, she was forward to her power, yea, and beyond her
power; for she would even anticipate her revenue and incomes, rather
than restrain or suspend her liberality. She would not live poor in good
works, to die rich as to this world’s goods. She made her own hands
her executors, and they were very faithful to her enlarged heart.
When she had, in her lord’s life-time, a separate allowance settled by
marriage articles, she consulted with a minister, with whom she was
well acquainted, what proportion persons are obliged to consecrate to
God of their substance. The minister told her, “that it was hard, if
not impossible, to fix a rule which should hold universally, and that
the circumstances in which persons stood, their qualities, their incomes,
their dependencies, must be considered, necessary and emergent oc-
casions inevitably occurring.” On her insisting on a more particular
answer as to herself, what would be fit and becoming her to do, the
minister, who was no stranger to her circumstances, suggested, “ that
.*'She never was the mother of more than two children; a daughter, who died young and
this promising young nobleman.
º
• . * *
ºr -
THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK. 101
a seventh part, he supposed, would be a fit proportion of her substance
for charitable uses.” Before he could assign his reasons, she replied,
“that she would never give less than the third part.” Accordingly she
kept her resolution to the full, and with advantage, laying aside con-
stantly that proportion for charity and even sometimes borrowing from
the other proportions to add to it, but never making free with that to serve
her own occasions, though sometimes pressing enough.
When she came to the possession of the very large estate her lord be-
queathed her for her life, she in good measure realized what a great per-
son was reported to say, “that the Earl of Warwick had “given all his
estate to pious uses;” intending, that, by giving it to his Countess, it
would be converted to these purposes. All the satisfaction, as she de-
clared, that she took in such large possessions being put into her hands,
was the opportunity they afforded her of doing good; and she averred
that she would not accept of or be encumbered with the greatest estate
in England, if it should be offered her, were it clogged with this condi-
tion, that she was not to do good to others with it.
Such was the amiable and exemplary life of the Countess of War-
wick. It remains that some account should be given of her death.
What presages she might have of its near approach, she never dis-
covered; but her preparations for it had been for a long time habitual.
Death was one of the most constant subjects of her thoughts; and she
used to call her walking to meditate upon it, her going to take a turn
with death; so that it could never surprise or take her unprepared, who
was always ready for it.
Yet, there are some particulars worthy of our remark, of the watchful
kindness of Providence over the people of God, alarming them to trim
their lamps, as the wise virgins did, against the coming of the bride-
groom, and allowing them fit opportunities to do it, as Providence sig-
nally did to this good lady.
The following transcript from her diary contains an account of the
last Lord’s-day of her health, being written but the very day before she
was taken ill; whence it should seem, that the thoughts of her disso-
lution were impressed upon her soul in a remarkable manner, though at
that time there were no visible symptoms of it upon her body.
“JMarch 24, 1678.
“As soon as I awoke, I blessed God. I then meditated and endea-
voured, by thinking of some of the great mercies of my life, to stir up
my heart to give glory to God. These thoughts had this effect upon
me, to melt my heart much by the love of God, and to warm it with
love to him. -
“Next I prayed, and was enabled in that duty to pour out my soul
to God. My heart was in it, and was carried out to praise God, and I
was large in recounting many of his special mercies to me. While I
was thus employed, I found my heart in a much more then ordinary
manner excited to admire God for his goodness, and to love him. I
found his love make deep impressions on me, and melting mé into an
unusual plenty of tears.
“Those mercies, for which I was in an especial manner thankful,
were, the creation and redemption of the world, and for the gospel, and
102 MEMOIRS OF
the sacraments, and for free grace, and the covenant of grace, and for
the excellent means of it I had enjoyed, and for the great patience God
had exercised towards me before and since my conversion, and for checks
of conscience when I had sinned, and for repentance when I had done
so, and for sanctified affliction, and support under it, and for so large a
portion of worldly blessings.
“After I had begged a blessing upon the public ordinances, I went to
hear Mr. Woodroofſ. His text was, “Pass the time of your sojourning
here in fear.”—After a summary account of the sermon, she goes on :
“In the afternoon I heard again the same person on the same text.” This
sermon she also concisely and methodically recapitulates, and then pro-
ceeds: “I was in a serious frame at both the sermons, and was by them
convinced of the excellency of fearing God, and of employing the re-
mainder of the term of my life in his service, and I resolved to endeavour
to spend the residue of my time better. At both the minister's prayers
I prayed with fervency. Afterwards I retired, and meditated upon the
sermons; and prayed them over. I had also this evening large medita-
tions of death and of eternity, which thoughts had this effect upon me,
to beget in me an extraordinary awakened frame, in which the things
of another life were much realized to me, and made very deep impres-
sions upon me, and my soul followed hard after God for grace to serve
him better than ever yet I had done.
“O Lord, be pleased to hear my prayers, which came not out of feign-
ed lips, and to hear the voice of my weeping for more holiness, and for
being more weaned from the world, and all in it ! After supper, I com-
mitted myself to God.”
This excellent lady was far from being among their number, whose
consciences are such bad and unquiet company that they hate solitude,
and dare not be alone ; for she loved retirement, and found in it her
greatest satisfaction ; though when she was called from it, she would
deny her particular inclination, to comply with a duty of pressing ne-
cessity or of larger extent. Thus she cheerfully sustained the hurry of
business, which was inevitable, in discharging herself of the trust reposed
in her by her lord’s last will.
But never did bird more joyfully clap its wings when disentangled from
a net, or delivered from the prison of its cage, than she solaced herself
upon her withdrawment from the bustle and crowd of terrene concerns.
And when her dearest sister was, in the beginning of the winter before
she died, about to leave her, she took her farewell of her in these words:
“Now I have done my drudgery,” (intending her attention to worldly
affairs,) “I will set to the renewing my preparations for eternity;” and
accordingly, she made it the repeated business of the following winter.
In the beginning of March, 1678, she set to the making of her will
anew, and signed and sealed it on the twelfth day of the same month ;
and on the Tuesday, March 26, was taken with some indisposition, loss
of appetite, and aguish distemper, and had four or five fits, which yet, in
that season, were judged, both by her physicians and friends, more bene-
ficial to her health, than threatening to her life. She continued after-
wards free from her fits till Friday the 12th of April; on which day she
rose in tolerable strength, and after sitting up some time, being laid
upon her bed, she discoursed cheerfully and piously. One of the last
sentences she spoke, having turned back the curtain with her hand, was
*
a. *
THE COUNTESS OF WARWICR. 103
this most friendly and divine one ; “Well, ladies, if I were one hour in
heaven, I would not be again with you, as much as I love you.”
Having then received a kind visit from a neighbouring lady, at her
departure she rose from her bed to her chair ; in which being set, she
said she would go into her bed, but first would desire one of the minis-
ters then in the house to pray with her ; and asking the company which
they would have, presently resolved herself to have him who was going
away, because the other would stay and pray with her daily. He was
immediately sent to, and came. Her ladyship, sitting in her chair on
account of her weakess, (for otherwise she always kneeled,) and holding
an orange in her hand, to which she smelt, almost in the beginning of
the prayer was heard to fetch a sigh, or groan, which was esteemed de-
votional ; but a gentlewoman who kneeled by her, looking up, saw her
look pale, and her hand hang down ; at which she started up affrighted,
and all applied themselves to assist her ladyship, the minister catching
hold of her right hand, which had then lost its pulse, nor ever recovered
it more.
Thus died, in the fifty-fourth year of her age, this right honourable
lady, this most eminent pattern of zeal for the glory of God and charity
for the good of men . She died in the actual exercise of prayer, accord-
ing to her own desire ; for there were many that could witness that
they had often heard her say, That if she might choose the manner and
circumstances of her death, she would die praying.”
We shall annex to the Memoirs of this worthy lady, specimens of her
own numerous compositions. Among her meditations on various sub-
jects we find the following.
MEDITATION,
On considering the different manner of the working of a Bee and a Spider.
While I am attending to this despicable spider, which, despicable as
it is, yet has some of its kind that have the honour to inhabit the courts
of the most glorious potentates, (for the inspired volumes tell us, that
they are in kings' palaces,”) I am led to consider, that the work he is
so busily employed in, while he spins his webs entirely out of his own
bowels, without having any help from any thing without him, is, when
it is finished, good for nothing, but is soon brushed down and flung
away; while the industrious Bee, who is busily employed in making his
useful combs, daily flies abroad to enable him to do so, and, flying from
one flower to another, gathers from each of them that which both renews
his own strength, and yields sweetness to others.
By the Spider’s work, I am minded of a formalist or proud professor,
who works all from himself, and his own strength, and never goes out
of himself to get strength for his performances, or to work by, and there-
fore his thin-spun righteousness is good for nothing, and will be thrown
away.
The Bee's going abroad is an emblem of the real Christian, who is
renewed in the spirit of his mind, and, that he may be enabled to work
the great work for which he came into the world, he goes out to an or-
dinance, and to Christ in a promise for strength by which to work, and
* Prov. xxx. 28.
104 MEMOIRs of THE COUNTESS OE WARWICK.
.hus obtains it; and this makes his work yield honey, and turn to advan-
tage.
§ Lord, I most humbly beseech thee, let me not dare to work for
myself, but ler me go out daily to thee for ability, with which to work
my great and indispensable work, that I may deny my own righteous-
ness, and make mention of thine only, and may find such sweetness from
every ordinance, and promise, that my soul may be like a garden which
the Lord hath blessed, and may exceedingly thrive and prosper 1
We shall now give one of her pious reflections on several passages of
Scripture.
REFLECTION
on PsALM crix. 136.
Rivers of waters run down my eyes, because men keep not thy law.
Lord, when I read in thy word, of the man after thine own heart thus
speaking, and yet consider that I am so far from imitating him, that
I can many times suffer sin to be upon my brother, without so much as
giving him a reproof for it, or advising him so much as to consider whom
he offends by it; nay, that I am ready to smile at that which is a grief
to thine Holy Spirit; I beceech thee, O Lord to humble me under this
consideration, and to make me, for time to come, to imitate holy David
in my charity towards my offending brother, and with thy servant Lot,
let my soul be vexed in hearing and seeing the filthy conversation of
the wicked.* O let me be so charitable as to weep over the soul of my
offending brother ; and let me, as much as in me lies, deliver him out
of the snare of sin, and by my prayers and holy example, help him to-
wards heaven
* 2 Pet. ii. 8.
L.A. D Y E LIZABET H B R O O KE.
. This lady was born at Wigsale in Sussex, January, 1601. Her fa-
ther, was Thomas Culpepper, of Wigsale, esquire, a branch of an ancient,
genteel family of that name, which was afterwards in her brother ad-
vanced to the rank of the nobility. He was created a baron by King
Charles the First, with the title of John Lord Culpepper, of Thores-
way. Her mother was the daughter of Sir Stephen Slaney. Thus
she had the honour of an honourable extraction and a noble alliance;
and as her family conferred an honour upon her, so she reflected an ad-
ditional glory upon her family by her great virtues, having been one of
the most accomplished persons of the age, whether considered as a lady
or a Christian.
While she was in her infancy, she lost her mother, and in her child-
hood, her father ; so that she came early under the more peculiar care and
patronage of God, who is in an especial manner the Father of the fa-
therless. &
Her first education was under her grandmother on the mother’s side,
the Lady Slaney. She had rare endowments of nature, an excellent
mind, lodged in a fine form and under a beautiful aspect, the traces of
which were discernible even in her old age. She had an extraordinary
quickness of apprehension, a rich fancy, great solidity of judgment, and
a retentive memory. *
She was married very young, about nineteen, to Sir Robert Brooke,
knt, descended from a younger brother of the ancient and noble family
of the Brookes, formerly Lord Cobham. Sir Robert was a person of
good estate and of virtuous character. He lived with her six-and-twenty
years, and died July 10, 1646. Their children were three sons and
four daughters.
Sir Robert Brooke and his lady continued the two first years of their
marriage in London, as boarders in the house of the Lady Weld, her
aunt. Thence they removed to Langley in Hertfordshire; a seat which
Sir Robert purchased purposely for his lady’s accommodation, that she
might be near her friends in London. After some years’ residence there,
they came to Cockfield in Suffolk, his paternal seat, where she passed
•
the residue of her life, excepting the two first years of her widowhood.
In all these places she lived an eminent example of goodness, and left a
good name behind her, and especially in the last, where she passed the
most and best of her time, and whence her soul was translated to hea-
Wein,
She had many accomplishments, which recommended her to all who
had the happiness of knowing her. . But the greatest glory that shone
in her, was that of religion, in which she was not only sincere, but ex-
celled. To which general head the following particulars may be refer-
red, as the distinct jewels in her crown of righteousness.
She devoted herself to God and religion very early in life, remember.
14
106 MEMOIRS OF
ing her Creator in the days of her youth, and making haste, and delaying
not to keep his commandments. And as she began, so she continued
with great steadiness, her walk with God through the course of a long
life ; so that she was not only an aged person, but, which is a great ho-
nour in the church of God, “an old disciple.”
As she thus early applied herself to religion in the power and strict-
ness of it, so, her good parts, industry, length of time, and the use of
excellent books, and converse with learned men uniting together, ren-
dered her one of the most intelligent persons of her sex, especially in di-
vinity and the holy Scriptures, which made her wise unto salvation.
This knowledge of the sacred writings was not confined to the prac-
tical, but extended also to the doctrinal and critical part of the book of
God, even to the difficulties concerning Scripture chronology, and the
solution of many of them. She was able to discourse pertinently upon
any of the great heads of theology. She could oppose an Atheist by
arguments drawn from the topics in natural theology; and answer the
objections of other erroneous minds, by the weapons provided against
them in the holy Scriptures. -
Though she was not skilled in the learned languages, she had so
great a knowledge in divinity, that no scholar could repent the time
spent in converse with her; for she could bear such a part in discourses
of theology, whether didactical, polemical, casuistical, or textual, that
some of her chaplains have professed that her conversation has been
sometimes more profitable and pleasant than their own studies, and
that they themselves learned, as well as taught.
This, perhaps, may seem incredible to them who were not acquaint-
ed with her; but something of the wonder will be abated, by showing
in what manner she attained her treasures of knowledge.
She was an indefatigable reader of books, especially of the Scriptures,
and various commentators upon them, the very best our language af-
forded. She had turned over a multitude, not only of practical trea-
tises, but also of learned books; and, among many others, some of
those of the ancient philosophers translated into English, gathering
much light from those luminaries among the heathens, so that she could
interpose with wisdom in a discourse purely philosophical. She was
also a most diligent inquirer, and made use of all learned men of her
acquaintance, in order to increase her knowledge, by moving questions
concerning the most material things; as cases of conscience, hard texts
of Scripture, and the accomplishment of the Divine prophecies. She
generally also took notes out of the many books she read, that she
might with the less labour recover the ideas without reading the books
a second time.
She was very industrious to preserve what either instructed her mind,
or affected her heart, in the sermons she had heard. To these she
gave great attention while they were preaching, and had them repeated
in her family. After all this, she would discourse of them in the eve-
ning, and in the following week she had them repeated, and would dis-
course upon them to some of her family in her chamber. Besides all
this, she wrote the substance of them, and digested many of them into
questions and answers, or under heads of common places, and thus
they became to her matter for repeated meditation. By these methods
she was always enlarging her knowledge, or confirming what she had
LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE. 107
*
already known. Having thus acquired a great treasure of knowledge,
she improved it, through Divine assistance, which she was most ready
to acknowledge, into a suitable practice, working out her salvation with
fear and trembling, and being zealous of good works.
Her piety was exact, laying rules upon herelf in all things; and it
was also universal, having a respect to all God’s commandments, equally
regarding the two tables of the law; and it may be truly added, that
it was also constant and affectionate. Her whole heart was given up
to religion, and a holy zeal accompanied it, which zeal was guided by
much wisdom and prudence ; her prudence never degenerating into
craft, there being nothing apparent in all her conversation contrary to
sincerity. Her piety also was serious, solid, and substantial, without
any tincture of enthusiasm ; though, at the same time, she had a great
regard to the Spirit of God, as speaking in the Scriptures, and by them
guiding the understanding, and operating upon the heart.
As her own practice was holy, so, she endeavoured that her family
might walk in the same steps, providing for them the daily help of
prayer morning and evening, with the reading of the Scriptures, and on
the Lord’s-day the repetition of what was preached in the public congre-
gation. And for their further benefit, she for many years together pro-
cured a grave divine to perform the office of a catechist in her house, who
came constantly every fortnight, and expounded methodically the prin-
ciples of religion, and examined the servants. This work was done by
her chaplains till the service of God in her family, and the care of the
parish, centred in one person. Thus, with Joshua, she resolved that she
and her house would serve the Lord.
With herpiety was joined much Christian love, which was universal, and
extended to all mankind; so that she never suffered herself to hate, or de-
spise, or overlook, unless in the way of censure for a crime, any persons in
the world, abhorring only what was vicious and evil in them. But this
universal charity admitted a difference, so that, as the more Christian
and holy any persons were, they had more of her regard. That image
of God that shone out in a good conversation, she could not overlook in
any, though in some respects they might be less acceptable to her ; as
she valued grace above all the accomplishments of parts, breeding, and
agreement in smaller things. While all were dear to her in whom
the fear of God appeared, she had a most peculiar regard for his am-
bassadors and ministers, the guides of souls, receiving them in their mi-
nistrations as angels of God, fearing the Lord, and obeying the voice of
his servants, esteeming what they delivered in harmony with the holy
Scriptures as his word and message. -
She was very exact in matters of justice, and in rendering to all their
dues. She could not endure to have any thing without a title in con-
science as well as law; and was particularly tender in reference to tithes,
giving away all which she held by that title to him who took the care
of the souls, and reserving only a little portion yearly for repairing the
edifices. •
Her almsgiving was very great, and drew the admiration of all who
observed it, though they were acquainted with only some part of it.
Every one who needed it, received it in proportion to his necessities, and
in the kind that was most suitable to his particular wants. She esteem-
ed herself only as a steward of her estate, and therefore gave away a
108 MEMOIRS OF
great portion of it to encourage the ministry, and relieve the indigent.
She dispersed abroad, and gave to the poor, and her righteousness re-
mains for ever. She most frequently cast her bread upon the waters,
and gave a portion to seven, and to eight, and lent much to the Lord.
All this she did cheerfully and willingly, and was so ready to do these
good works, that, when there was any occasion that solicited her charity,
it was never any question with her whether she should give, or not
give, but only in what proportion she should communicate her bounty;
and that she might fix the proportion, she would many times most
frankly refer herself to others, saying, “I will give whatever you think is
meet and fit in this case ;” having in this respect a heart as large as the
sand upon the sea-shore, and a most open and bountiful hand.
And as the poor were blessed with her charity in abundance, so her
friends, who needed not that kind of benevolence, were witnesses of her
great liberality and goodness, by which she adorned religion, and won
over many to speak well concerning it. Her generosity was such, that
one would have imagined there was no room for her alms; and her
charity was such, that it was matter of wonder that she could so nobly
entertain her friends. But her provident frugality and good manage-
ment, with the Divine blessing, enabled her to perform both to admira-
tion. .
Her charity was not only extended for the relief of the wants of
others’ bodies, but she also most readily afforded counsel and comfort to
such as applied to her for assistance in the greater concerns of their
souls, though of meaner rank and condition in the world. To such she
would address herself wisely, such she would hear with patience, and
such she would treat with compassion, when under temptations and
disquietude of soul. Upon one of her servants coming to her closet on
this account, and beginning to open to her the grief of her mind, she re-
quired her for that time to forget that she was a servant, and having
discoursed to her with great tenderness and prudence in reference to
her temptations, she dismissed her relieved, and much revived. Very
many others she received with the greatest freedom, ministering spirit-
ual comfort to them. '' . .
That part of religion which is particularly styled devotion, was the
solace of her life, and the delight of her, soul. A considerable portion
of her time was every day employed in prayer, in searching the Scrip-
tures, and in holy meditations. These exercises were her proper element,
and in them she would often profess she found her greatest consolation.
In these she conversed with God, and was then least alone when most
alone ; for she did not merely perform these duties, nor generally en-
gage in them, as a task, but she observed the frame of her spirit in them,
and commanded the affections of her soul to wait upon God; not being
satisfied without some emotions of mind suitable to those holy exercises,
as she hath often professed, and as might be gathered from her complain-
ing sometimes of her infirmities, and of the difficulty of praying aright,
and of preserving through the duty a due sense of God. The Chris-
tian Sabbath was her delight, and a day in God’s courts was better
to her than a thousand elsewhere, and her enjoyment of God in the
public ordinances and services of that day was to her as a little heaven
upon earth. The impressions she received by an attendance on these
holy institutions, were such as that she longed in the week for the re-
3.
LADY ELIZABETH BROOK.E. H09
turn of the Sabbath ; and great was her affliction when her hearing
was so impaired that she could not attend the public worship of God,
though few were better furnished to supply the want by private exercises
and closet devotions. t
What challenges our admiration, is, that this lady, in the midst of
all these attainments, virtues, and graces, was deeply humble, and
clothed with the ornament of a lowly spirit. While many were filled
with wonder at the example she exhibited to the world, she herself ap-
prehended that others excelled her in grace and godliness, and conti-
nually reckoned herself among the least of saints. The writer of her
life” declares, “that, notwithstanding her quality in the world, her ex-
quisite knowledge, eminent grace, and the high value her friends had
justly of her, he could never perceive, in the whole course of eighteen.
years’ converse, the least indication of vain-glory or self-admiration in
her.” ' ' ' . . . . .
Her humility appeared to be of an excellent kind, the fruit of great
knowledge, proceeding also from a deep sense of the fall, the corruption
of human nature, the imperfection of mortification in the presenthfe, and
the remains of sin in the souls of them who are sanctified. . It was also
nourished by a great sight of God, and acquaintance with him, by fre-
quent self-examination, by an observation how sin mingles itselfin our
best actions and most holy duties, and a diligent trial of herself and her
conversation by the exact rules of the Scriptures. This grace of Chris-
tian humility was the more illustrious in her, by the accession of the
virtue of courtesy, which she possessed in a high degree, entertaining.
all persons with civilities proper to their several qualities, so that she
obliged all; at the same time being ever careful that nothing in conver-
sation might border upon those freedoms which dishonour God and
blemish the Christian profession ; in this manner adorning the gospel,
and evincing that religion, though it requires great strictness, yet does not.
involve in it either melancholy or moroseness. And, which is a much
greater thing than to be courteous in the highest degree, as a real.
disciple of Christ she had learned to deny herself, and could abridge
her own right, that she might thereby promote the glory of God, do
good to others, avoid offence, and maintain love and peace in the church
and in the world. And which may be properly subjoined to her sélf-
denial, as a grace equal to it, she industriously avoided censoriousness,
and endeavoured to put the the best interpretation on both words...and.
actions; not lightly speaking evil of any, nor readily receiving an evil re-
port. Above all things, she abhorred censoriousness in reference: to:
preachers and sermons, of which she was a most candid and equal
hearer, sufficiently judicious and critical, but not in the least captious.
If but truth were spoken and piety enforced in any ordinary methéd, she
was satisfied so as not to find fault. . . . . . . ; ; ; ; ;
. In all her relations she behaved herself as a Christian. She was a
faithful, dutiful, affectionate, and prudent wife. She was a watchful.
mother, restraining her children from evil, and bringing them up in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord, most constanthy endeavouring to
instil into their minds the principles of justice, holiness, and, charity.
To them who became her children by marrying into her family, she was:
• * ~ * 4.
p 4
*The Rev. Nathaniel Parkhurst, M. A. vicar of Yoxford, and chaplain to her. isdyship. : ..
110 MEMOIRS OF
most kind, and treated them as her own. To her servants and tenants
she was just and good; and to her neighbours she was, in one word, all
that they could desire. To her particular friends she was endeared by
her prudence, fidelity, and almost excesses of love, and the improve-
ment of friendship to serve the great purposes of religion, the honouring
of God, and the benefiting one another. -
Many more things might be added to this account of her attainments,
graces, and virtues; but all may be summed up in this short character:
She had the knowledge of a divine, the faith, holiness, and zeal of a
Christian, the wisdom of the serpent, and the innocency of the dove. She
had godliness in its power, and spread a glory over her profession. She
was serious, but not melancholy, and cheerful without any tincture of
levity. She was very holy and humble, and thankful to God for all his.
mercies, having a deep sense of her need of Christ the Mediator, depend-
ing entirely upon his merits and satisfaction, and renouncing all her
works in the article of justification. * ,
A person of great learning drew up her character in Latin in these
words: “Ingenio mascula, mente theologa, ore gravis, corde sancta, cultu
intensa, caritate lasta, crucis patiens, tota moribus generosa ; marito
SARA, liberis EUNICE, nepotibus Lois, ministris LYDIA, hospitibus MAR-
THA, pauperibus DoRCAs, DEO ANNA.” º
In English:—Of masculine strength of mind, in knowledge a divine,
in aspect venerable, and pure in heart: fervent in her devotions, cheer-
ful in her charities, patient in tribulation, in the whole of her behaviour
a complete gentlewoman. She was a SARAH to her husband, a EUNICE
to her children, a -Lois to her grandchildren, a LYDIA to ministers, a
MARTHA to her guests, a DoRCAs to the poor, and an ANNA to her
God. , & : , , ,
: As the qualifications of this lady were great and eminent, so were
the providences of God towards her ; for she had great prosperities, and
interchangeably great afflictions. The first she received with humility,
the last with patience. . . .
To her prosperities may be referred the great kindness of her husband,
with a numerous family, and a very plentiful estate during his life, and
a competent revenue afterwards in her widowhood; a fine temperature.
of body, so that she was seldom sick, though never strong; the con-
tinuance of her parts, the vigour of her intellect, and the firmness of her
jūdgmént, even in the last years of her life; the respects and civilities
she received from the gentry in her neighbourhood; the blessing of long
life; the conclusion of some unkind law-suits, which as she did not,
begin, so she could not prevent; and the seeing every remaining branch
of her family amply provided for and in a very comfortable condition,
before her decease. And, which was more than all these, as the best of
her prosperities, she enjoyed much inward peace ; which, though it
had sometimes the interruptions of doubts and fears, was generally firm
and steady, and was sometimes advanced into joys and strong' con-
solation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
º Her afflictions were chiefly widowhood, and the loss of children. The
sharpest of all her trials was the untimely death of her last son, with:
the aggravitting circumstance of it, that of his being drowned. This
great affletion came upon her like an inundation of waters, threatening
all the banks of reason and grace; but the presence and power of God
LADY ELIZABETH BROOK.E. 111
supported her so, that she not only lived many years after the death of
her son, but recovered in a great measure her former cheerfulness. Her
behaviour under this sad providence was truly Christian. She did not
murmur, though at first she was astonished, and afterwards much de-
pressed by it. Her danger was that of fainting under the correcting
hand of God; but she was upheld by Him who is able to succour them
that are tempted. She often expressed herself in words importing that
she justified God, and acknowledged his righteousness in the dispensa-
tion. She feared lest some might be scandalized, and reflect upon reli-
gion, and decline it, because of her deep affliction, and she most earnestly
desired that God would take care of his own name and glory. After-
wards her spirits revived, and she was comforted as before, and rejoiced
in the God of her salvation.
The close of her life was a long languishing of several months, which .
gradually confined her, first to her chamber, then to her couch, and last
of all to her bed, accompanied sometimes with great pains, in the en-
durance of which patience had its perfect work. During this sickness
her mind was calm. Her conscience witnessed to her integrity, and
she had a good hope in God, that he would crown his grace in her with
perseverance, and then with glory. She was very apprehensive of her
need of Christ, adhered to him, rejoiced in him, and desired to be with
him. She expired almost insensibly, and had an easy passage to that
happiness which is the reward of faith and holiness, and the free gift of
God, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
She left behind her, besides a great number of other writings, a book
containing Observations, Experiences, and Rules of Practice, which,
being a most lively image of her mind, may supply the defects of the
narrative that has been given of her, and extracts from which we have
thought proper to subjoin, in hopes that they may be of no little benefit
to all pious readers.
OBSERVATIONS AND EXPERIENCES, BY THE LADY ELIZABETH BROOK.E.,
I.
The Vanity of the World. .
All my comforts below are dying comforts. No one creature, nor all
the creatures that ever I enjoyed, have given my soul satisfaction.
II.
Good Actions will bear consideration, but evil Actions will not.
Every act of piety and obedience will bear consideration, but so will
not any sinful action. If we consider before we attempt any sinful
action, either we shall not commit it, or we shall do it with regret, and
a conscience half set on fire. But if we consider before any holy action
or duty, our revolving thoughts will much animate us to the service.
Wherefore I hence conclude, that sin shames, and that religion justifies
itself. ſº. w
III.
The Worship of God is made pleasant by a Sense of his Presence in it.
God’s presence was formerly manifested by visible signs, as the cloud,
fire, and brightness; but, though we cannot expect these, yet, we have
the same special presence of God with us ; and whenever by faith we
112 MEMOIRS. QF
attain any lively apprehensions of it, how solemn, profitable, and de-
lightful do they make the worship of God! With what joy do they
bring us to the public assemblies! and how unwilling are we to be kept
from them, when we have this expectation from them 1 And finding
our expectation in this respect answered, how devoutly do we behave
ourselves in them And how joyfully do we return home, as they who
have seen God, and conversed with him
IV.
It is our Interest to be religious.
It is a most experienced truth, that we shall never be well recon-
ciled to religion, and steady in piety, till we see it is our interest to be
religious.
. ' W.
It is difficult to pray without some wandering Thoughts in Prayer.
" It is very difficult to carry sincerity, and keep up a sense of God,
through every part of prayer, which is necessary to be endeavoured,
and is the life of the duty. I find it hard to keep my soul intent, for
my thoughts are slippery and swift, and my heart is snatched away
sometimes against my will, and before I am aware ; yea, even then
sometimes when I have made the greatest preparation, and have had
the greatest resolutions through grace to avoid wandering thoughts.
My best prayers therefore need Christ's incense to perfume them.
WI.
•A deep Sense of God in Prayer is desirable and ravishing.
Could I understand my near approach to God in prayer, it would
exalt my soul above measure. And why am I not ravished with the
thoughts of being in the presence of God, and having the ear, yea, the
heart of the King of heaven? It is nothing but want of faith, and
the strange power of sense, that weaken my spiritual apprehensions,
and keep me from an unspeakable delight in my addresses to God.
What a high privilege is this, to speak to the great Jehovah, as a child
to a father, or a friend to a friend | But how slow of heart am I to
conceive the glory and happiness hereof Could I but manage this
great duty as I ought, it would be a heaven upon earth; it would bring
down God to me, or carry me up to Him. Why should I not be carried
ed above the world, when I am so near to God'ſ Why should I not be
changed into the same image from glory to glory ! Why am I not even
transported beyond myself?
VII.
We ought to be constant in Prayer.
Inconstancy in prayer is not only sinful, but dangerous. Omission
breeds dislike, strengthens corruption, discourages the spirit, and ani-
mates the unregenerate part. Constancy in this duty breeds a holy
confidence towards God. Inconstancy breeds strangeness. Upon an
omission, I must never approach God again, or my next prayer must be
an exercise of repentance for my last omission.
VIII.
Sincere Prayers are never offered in vain.
Formality is apt to grow upon our secret prayers. One of the best
LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE. II3
ways to prevent it, is to come to God with an expectation. This sets
an edge upon our spirits. I do not enough observe the returns of prayer,
though God hath said, I shall never seek him in vain. But when I ob-
serve, I must acknowledge I have daily answers of my prayers in some
kind or another. Nay, I think I may say, I never offered a fervent
prayer to God, but I received something from him, at least as to the
frame of my own spirit.
IX.
Prayer promotes Piety, and Godliness, and flequaintance with God.
It is the Christian’s duty in every thing to pray, and holiness lies at
the bottom of this duty. If I in every thing commit myself to God, I
shall be sure to keep his ways, or my prayer will upbraid me. This
keeps me from tempting him, and makes me careful to find a clear call
in all I undertake ; knowing that if I go only where I am sent, the
angel of his presence will go before me, and my way will be cleared of
all temptations and mischiefs. When our call is clear, our way is safe.
Besides, the practice of this leads me into much acquaintance with God.
My very praying is an acquainting myself with him ; and if in every
thing I pray, I shall in every thing give thanks, and this still brings me
into more acquaintance with him. By this means, my life will be fill-
ed up with a going to and a returning from God.
X.
The real Christian loves Solitude.
Solitude is no burden to a real Christian. He is least alone when
alone. His solitude is as busy and laborious as any part of his life.
It is impossible to be religious indeed, and not in some measure to
love solitude, for all duties of religion cannot be performed in public.
It is also a thing as noble as it is necessary, to love to converse with
our own thoughts. The vain mind does not more naturally love com-
pany, than the divine mind doth frequent retirement. Such persons have
work to do, and meat to eat, the world knows not of. Their pleasures
are secret, and their chief delight is between God and themselves. The
most pleasant part of their lives is not in, but out of the world.
XI.
Religion gives us a real Enjoyment of God.
The true Christian lives above himself, not only in a way of self-de-
nial, but in the very enjoyment of God. His fellowship is with the Fa-
ther, and with the Son. He every where, and in every thing, seeks out
God. In ordinances, duties, and providences, whether prosperous or ad-
verse, nothing pleases unless God be found in them, or admitted into
them. That is to him an ordinance indeed, in which he meets with God.
That is a merciful providence indeed, in which there appears much of
the finger of God. God is nearer to the true Christian than he is to
others; for there is an inward feeling, an intellectual touch, which car-
nal men have not. And herein lies the very soul of religion, and the
quintessence of it, that it unites us in a nearness to God, and gives us
already to enjoy him.
XII.
The Expectation of Death is profitable to a Christian.
The serious expectation of death, not forgetting judgment, frees us
15
114 MEMOIRs of
from the afflicting, discomposing apprehensions of it. It is of great
service to the Christian; it takes off the soul from carnal pleasures, co-
vetous desires, and ambitious pursuits, and assists patience and content-
ment. It helps the Christian to redeem his time, prompts him to settle
the affairs of his soul, to put his heart and house in order, and to leave
nothing to be done to-morrow that may be done to-day. It excites to
frequent examination, quickens repentance, and suffers him not to con-
tinue in sin. It assists fervency in prayer, as it drives away worldly cares,
and helps against distractions ; for death is a solemn thing, and the
thoughts of it breed a passion in the mind, and all soft passions cherish
devotion. The expectation of death sweetens all labour, work and duty,
because of the everlasting rest to which death leads us.
It moves us to pray for others, to counsel them, and do what we can
for them. Thus death, in the expectation of it, is a blessing, if we look
for it as certain, and yet uncertain when it shall come, as followed
with judgment, and as putting a full end to our state of trial. Thus
death is ours.
HER RULES FOR PRACTICE.
I.
Let love and charity be universal; for no pretence whatever, no, not
of religion and zeal for God, can justify your not loving any person in
the world. Treat all men with kindness, and wish them well. Do
them good according to their necessity, and your power and opportunity.
If persons be above you, express your love to them, by paying them the
honour and observance their place and authority call for. If they are
in worldly respects beneath you, manifest your love by kindness, affa-
bility, and granting them an easy access to you. If they excel in natural
or acquired endowments of mind, express your love to them by a due
esteem of them. If they be rather wanting than excelling, show your
love by pitying them, and despise not their weakness. If any be in
misery, compassionate them, pray for them, comfort them with your
presence if you can reach them, and relieve them according to your
power. If any be defamed, show your love by stopping and rebuking
the defamation.
II.
Be very careful not to harbour any evil affection in your heart against
arty person whatever; for, though you are far from intending any
actual mischief, yet you tempt God to let loose your corruption, and
his providence to permit an opportunity; and so, ere you are aware,
you may be drawn to an act you never before thought of. Besides, by
an evil action harboured in your mind, you will prevent the blessed
illapses of the Spirit of God,open a wide door for the entrance of the devil
into your soul. And indeed, an unkind disposition towards any man is
so much akin to Satan, that, if you admit the one, you cannot exclude
the other.
III.
Despise none, for love never rides in triumph over inferiors.
IV.
Ilook upon all unavoidable temptations as opportunities for a high ex-
ercise of grace. Are you injured? Be sorry for him who has done the
LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE. 115
wrong, and bless God for the opportunity of showing yourself hereby
to be a Christian, by patient bearing, forgiving, doing good against evil,
treating your adversary with meekness, and breaking his heart with
love. Every provocation is a price in your hand ; get an heart to im-
prove it.
W.
Put a due value upon your name and reputation, but be not over
solicitous about it ; for that discovers some unmortified lust at the
bottom.
WI. -
Pursue piety under the notion of an imitation of God; and then, so
great a pleasure will result from it, that neither men nor devils shall be
able to make you question his being and attributes. This notion will
raise an esteem of piety, will render it lovely, will make the several
duties of religion more free and easy, and will gradually wear out the
remains of unbelief, and unkind jealousies of God.
- WII.
Let humility be the constant covering of your soul, and let repentance
follow all your performances. This will demonstrate your religion is
inward; for, if religion be suffered to enter deep into the heart, it will,
always find work for repentance, while we are in the state of imperfec-
tion.
VIII.
Love nothing above God and Christ; for to love any thing more than
God or Christ, is the way either never to enjoy it, or to be soon deprived
of it, or else to find yourself deceived in it.
- IX.
Do nothing upon which you dare not ask God’s blessing.
X.
Esteem time as your most precious talent, which when you bestow it
upon any, you give them more than you can understand. All the power
of men and angels cannot restore it to you again. -
XI.
Never speak of religion for the sake of discourse and entertainment,
but for the purpose of piety. XII
Upon the Lord’s-day, consider in private the love of God in the several
instances of it to yourself and the world, in Creation and Redemption,
the promises of eternal life, the care of his providences and his mercies
to you, your friends and family; and stay upon these considerations, till
your heart be lifted up in his praise, and you can say with David, “Now
will I go to God, my exceeding joy.” Consider also your miscarriages in
the week past, and industriously endeavour to prevent them in the week
to COme.
MRs. MAR GARET ANDREws. .
Mrs. MARGARET ANDREws was the only child of Sir Henry Andrews,
Bart. and his Lady Elizabeth, of Lathbury, in the county of Bucks.
She gave very early signs of piety. The good instructions of her parents,
accompanied with the Divine blessing, wrought so soon upon her, that
she seemed well inclined as soon as she understood any thing. The
buddings of piety showed themselves in the delight she took in prayer,
in reading and hearing her duty, in singing of psalms, in her meekness,
receiving reproof easily from her parents, and taking warning by it, in her
justice, in her hating and carefully avoiding a lie, and in her charity and
good inclinations to the poor, and a readiness to supply them.
About the age of seven or eight years, she gave more full and evident
signs of a regenerate state, appearing really and constantly solicitous
for the welfare of her soul. The pleasure she took in the sacred Scrip-
tures expressed itself not only in reading them, but by readily getting
by heart many psalms and chapters; which she did without much diffi-
culty, for upon reading a chapter to her mother, she hath presently re-
peated without book the greatest part of it. In these years of childhood
she had also a great respect for good ministers, delighting to hear them
pray and preach, and asking questions of them concerning God, and
her duty to him. Her charity also was proportionably improved. It
was strange to observe how she would inquire into the necessities of poor
people, and endeavour to procure them one thing after another, as they
signified their want of them.
But it may not be improper particularly to enumerate the several
branches of this young person’s excellencies; and here we shall mention
the following:
First: Her indifference to the world, and superiority over it, were emi-
nently great. She valued the world and all its glories as little as most
persons do their souls, who bestow but few, and it may be no serious
thoughts upon them throughout the year, or the whole term of their
lives. Her mind was so conversant with heaven and its glories, that, as
if being already in the celestial mansions, she looked upon these earthly
vanities at a great distance, unworthy of her esteem, and too little to
satisfy the enlarged desires of her soul. And the consideration of their
meanness made her long after a better inheritance, which would some-
times force a sigh from her; which being once observed by some, and
she being asked by them what she sighed for, since she wanted nothing
the world could afford her, her reply was: “I want nothing in this world.
I do not sigh for that. But how much better is heaven than all this ſ”
Then, starting up from her seat, and spreading her hands, she added,
“O, there are such joys in heaven as cannot be conceived tº She had
a great indifferency to all those gayeties which young ladies so generally
admire; for, though she submitted to wear clothes suitable to her age
and quality, yet she had too much wise consideration to be puffed up by
MRS. MARGARET ANDREWS. 117
g
them. When her parents bestowed any rarities upon her, she received
them with very thankful acknowledgments, as tokens of their favour
and kindness, which she highly valued; but afterwards would take
very little notice of the things themselves. She was once, before the
age of twelve years, taken by some friends to see a play; who after-
wards expected that she would entertain herself by discoursing upon
some passages of it; but not doing this, she was asked, How she
liked it'ſ to which she answered, “I like it so, that I never desire to
see another.” Not that she wanted either wit or memory to observe or
retain what might seem most worthy, for she was eminent in both ; but
her mind being accustomed to true and solid delights, found no pleasure
in such low and empty amusements. She accordingly was as good as
her word, and was too wise to spend any more time upon them. And it
was no wonder; for her soul was so much taken up with heaven and
heavenly things, that she would sometimes be with difficulty persuaded
to the most innocent and useful recreations; and, as if they were a bur-
den rather than an entertainment to her, would shorten them as much
as might be, to return to the more grateful exercises of piety and
devotion.
Secondly : This young lady was remarkable for her diligence and
constancy in reading good books. She appointed herself a daily por-
tion in the holy Scriptures, and when she hath been prevented reading
any part of it, either by company or some other occasion, she would be
much grieved, and lament her loss to a friend in the house with her.
She usually read with much observation, and would ask of others what
she did not understand. But, after some years, she profited so much,
that she was able to instruct most who conversed with her. Reading
once in the Psalms, she was affected with the troubles of David, and
thence took occasion to discourse with her maid about the troubles of
Christians in general, and particularly her own. The servant observed,
“That she (her young mistress) had but little trouble.” She replied,
“They that have the least trouble, have a great deal; and, if we do
but consider what joys there are in heaven, it is enough to make us
impatient of living here.”
She often read 2 Tim. iv.; and told a near relation, that she would
have the 7th and 8th verses of that chapter to be the subject of her
funeral sermon, which was accordingly done. The words are, “I have
fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith;
henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the
Lord the righteous Judge will give me at that day; and not to me
only, but unto all them who love his appearing :” words which were
truly fulfilled in her, as will appear to any who duly consider the course
of her life, and the victory of her faith.
As she read much herself, so, she delighted also in hearing others, and
would appoint her maid to read some particular chapters which she
chose for her; upon which she was so intent, that, being invited to re-
create herself, she would express her unwillingness, by saying, “ that
the other would do her more good.” In fine, she took such pleasure
in reading and hearing the word of God, as if, with David, it was dearer
to her than thousands of gold and silver, and sweeter than honey and
the honey-comb.
Thirdly : To her reading we have reason to believe that she added
118 MEMOIRS OF
daily meditation, because she delighted to be º and hath been
seen walking with hands and eyes lifted up to heaven, and in such
action as showed high measures of joy and comfort. When she walked
abroad with others, she would discourse much of the works as well as
the word of God, as if they were her daily meditation. And among
other things, it appears that death was much in her mind; for com-
monly, when she went to bed, she would be hinting something to her
maids about it, and often say, “How ought we to think of our death,
when this night may be the last !” And sometimes taking leave of
them at night, she would say, “Well, I am going to death's kinsman.”
And, no doubt, being fore-armed by a daily consideration of death,
death was the more easy and welcome to her when it came.
Fourthly : The devotion of this young person was extraordinary.
She kept constant to set prayers three times a day at least; and rarely
an hour passed but, turning herself from her company, she would, as
it were, steal a look towards heaven, and use secret ejaculations, which
they who were with her perceived by the manner of her action, though
they could hear nothing. Very often, even in the midst of recreations,
she would send away her maids, and retire to secret prayer. In this
duty she took so much delight, that it made her sometimes forget
herself, and hazard her health ; for she hath continued in her closet
two hours together in the sharpest winter weather, and would not be
prevailed with to leave it, though earnestly entreated. And indeed, if
it be considered with what zeal and fervency she performed the duty of
prayer, it is no wonder if she took little notice of the coldness of the
season. Her holy zeal and fervency have sometimes been discovered
at family prayer, when her tears have poured out abundantly, from
that earnestness of spirit with which she wrestled with God, and no
doubt mightily prevailed with him. What then may we imagine was
the fervour of her soul in secret prayer, when she could be more free,
having no restraint upon her from the observation of others | That this
was very great, hath appeared, when she has sometimes been surprised
in the duty, by the plenty of tears she had been shedding ; and some-
times it has been afterwards discovered by the redness left upon her
eyes. So constant was she at this holy exercise, that nothing could
divert her from it; for when she was at London, about a year before
her death, where she had many avocations, and more than ordinary
occasions of going abroad, she always performed this duty to God before
she want out. Nay, when she was invited by an honourable lady to
go into the Queen’s presence, and dressed with the greatest advantage
for that purpose, she would not upon this occasion abate any thing of
her usual duty, but immediately retired to her secret devotion. The
lady being come, and waiting for her, her mother, not knowing the
cause of her delay, went hastily into the chamber, where she found
her with her hands lifted up to heaven, and her face bedeved with tears,
uttering these words, “Good Lord, for the sake of Jesus Christ, suffer
not Satan to prevail over me.”
As she drew near her end, though in as good health, to appearance,
as before, she used stated prayers, as was apprehended, at least ten times
in a day, besides short occasional petitions. By these she consecrated
all places into which she came, and made every room in the house an
oratory. It must needs be a true zeal and importunity of soul which
IMRS. MARGARET ANDREWS. II9
raised her to an intimate communion with God, which caused her to
delight so much in secret devotion. *
But, though she spent so much time, and took such great pleasure in
this holy solitude, she would be cheerful and affable in company. She
had in the latter part of her life usually such a peculiar cheerfulness of
spirit, as if her soul was continually filled with comfort and joy.
Thus did she maintain a secret traffic with Heaven, of which the
world was not aware ; sending thither prayers, sighs, and tears, and
receiving thence blessing and peace into her soul. She manifested by
the tenor of her conversation, that she could be at once strictly devout
and pious, and at the same time courteous and obliging in her carriage
to others; and the sweetness of her aspect and behaviour was tempered
with such a gravity as is very rarely found in a person of her age and
quality.
O that the example of this excellent person might convince the sinful
world, that it would be good for them also to draw near to God! For,
however harsh and severe they may think a course of piety is, yet every
good Christian can assure them, that the ways of wisdom are ways of
pleasantness, and that all her paths are peace; that godliness hath the
promise of the life that now is, as well as of that which is to come; and
that in keeping God’s commandments there is great reward.
Fifthly : This young gentlewoman manifested great piety also in a
holy observance of the Lord’s-day. She prepared herself, by private
duties, for the public worship of God and hearing his word ; which she
afterwards observed with much devotion, reverence, and cheerful atten-
tion. When the public worship was over, it was her custom to repeat in
private what she could remember of the sermons, and spend the rest of
the day in reading to others, or alone in prayer, meditation, and the like.
When she hath been sometimes desired, for the sake of her health, to
"walk abroad, she would decline it, lest her mind should be diverted from
holy exercises. And at other times, if she walked abroad, she did it
rather in obedience to her parents than from her own inclination.
Sixthly: The charity of this young lady was very eminent. This
charity she was ready to express upon every occasion to the souls, bodies,
and good names of others, according to her power, and their necessity.
A little before her last sickness, she expostulated with her mother,
why she was in so much care about her. “Am I not,” said she, “ in
the hands of God 7 Cannot he preserve me ! If it be his pleasure, I
shall live, if not your care cannot preserve me. And what and if he
should take me ! You will not be long after me. If you live twenty or
thirty years after me, what is that to eternity 'P' One would be apt to
think, from such expressions, that she had some foresight of approaching
death; which appears to be further countenanced by her having been
heard to wish that her mother had another child, and that her parents
had less affection for her. And when a journey to the Devizes was in
contemplation a little before her sickness, she said to one in the house,
“If I go to the Devizes, I shall return no more.” *
Awhile after, when she was within some months of fourteen years of
age, that sickness seized her which proved her last, and which in few
days gave her up to God and happiness. At the beginning of the dis-
order, being taken with great pain, she often called upon God, and said,
“He is very merciful to me, for what I feel is nothing to the sufferings
120 MEMOIRS OF
of Christ for me.” After some ease she said, “God is very gracious in
giving us pain; otherwise we should not know how to be thankful for
ease.” She spent the time of her sickness very much in prayer, and
when she could not speak out, showed great signs of inward devotion.
About two or three hours before her death, her mother asked her in
these words: “My dear, are you so ill that you think you shall die!
Be not shy to tell me, for it will not be hard for me to part with you to
God, if it be his pleasure.” To this question she replied, smiling, “I
hope God will pardoñ my sins.” Her mother expecting a further an-
swer, put the question again ; to which the daughter returned only the
same words, implying that the thoughts of death did not trouble her, as
she had well-grounded hopes of that mercy which transforms the nature
of death, deprives it of its sting, and renders it an unspeakable blessing
to the children of God. She afterwards asked the doctor, “Do you
think I shall die P’ He answered, “Madam, no one can tell that.” She
replied, “Pray, doctor, deal plainly with me; I would not be deluded.”
He answered, “It is doubtful.” She then said, “I have been a great
sinner, but I hope God will pardon me. My Saviour is in heaven, and
I hope he will put on me the white robe.” She confessed the former
mercies of God to her, that she had been troubled for sin, but that the
Lord had given her the Comforter, and sealed her, and that she had been
comforted ever since. She then asked her parents, whether she had any
thing of her own to dispose of.” Upon receiving their consent to it, she
desired that the chancel of Lathbury should be paved with marble, and
ordered forty pounds to be to given the poor of Newport Pagnel, and
fifteen pounds to those of Lathbury. She then addressed herself to her
father and mother, “ Pray do not be troubled when I am gone.”
And looking earnestly on her father, she said, “Do you think you shall
be long after me, father ?” Then on her mother, “Do youthink you shall
be long after me, mother ?” Her father and the rest of the family kneel-
ing down, and recommending her to God, she seemed devout and cheer-
ful. Prayer being ended, she bowed forward, saying, “I thank God,
and thank you, father.” Then she asked for the minister, who coming
to her when her spirits were almost spent, she said to him, “O ! sir, I
have been a great sinner, but I hope God will pardon me.” Afterwards
she was heard to pray, and heard to call upon the name of Jesus; and
so, without any cloud upon her intellects, departed to the eternal vision
and enjoyment of him.
What graces, what virtues were here in a young lady not fourteen
years of age | Blush, and be ashamed ; hear, and be reformed, ye
threescore or fourscore years cumberers of the ground; as to whom it
would be hard, it may be, to find one sincere, fervent act of devotion to-
wards God, or one act of true Christian benevolence to your fellow-crea-
tures through all your days What fruits of holiness, what rich and
ripe fruits were here produced in a little time, while to this hour you
have been barren and unfruitful; or when God has looked that you
"should bring forth grapes, you have brought forth wild grapes O that
ye were wise, that you would consider such an example as has been
held up before you, and remember and prepare for your latter end
Prefixed to the life of this excellent young woman, we meet with a
Latin epitaph upon her, which we shall give our readers, and afterwards
an English translation.
MRS. MARGARET ANDREWS. 191
In MARGARETAM ANDREws,
Unicam proler
HENRICI ANDREws, Baronetti,
et
ELIZABETHAE suae conjugis,
Epitaphium.
Siste gradum, viator.
Quae sub hoc marmoreo pavimento jacet,
Quod ipsa non solūm Sibi sedet majoribus suis
Moribunda curavit instrui,
Paucis accipe.
Hic jacet virgo lectissima,
Parentum suorum spes unica,
Uniceque dilecta,
Domūs Lathburiensis deliciae simul et decus
Lex pudoris, officina temperantiae,
Urbanitatis filia,
Mundi victrix, Diaboli expugnatrix,
Pauperum gazophilacium,
Quae Deum ;. possidebat, seipsam in Deo.
Quam MARGARETAM mortales appellebant,
MARGARITAM coelites,
Quamgue adeo magni faciebant
Utillam illigemmea coronae
AEternum coruscanti
Inserere properarent,
Capsula hic relicta et deposita
In diem à Deo praestitutam.
Nec mireris
Animam tam subito in coelum avolâsse,
Nam vicem alarum sibi supplerunt
Preces suae et suspiria.
Abi, viator,
Cogita, et sape.
IN ENGLISH.
An epitaph on MARGARET ANDREws,
The only child
Of Sir HENRY ANDREws, Baronet,
And the Lady ELIZABETH his wife.
Stop, traveller,
And learnin a few words
The true character
Ofthat young lady,
Whose precious remains are deposited
Under this marble pavement,
Which in her departing moments
She was desirous should be laid
As a sepulchral covering
Not only of her own ashes,
But those of her ancestors.
She was an accomplished person,
The hope and love of her parents,
And the delight and ornament of her family.
Her bosom was the temple
Of modesty,
Purity,
and
Benevolence.
The pomps of the world
She disdained,
The powers of Satan
She vanquished,
For God dwelt in her,
And she dweltin God.
An angelic ban
Rejoiced j the Divine order,
On triumphal wings
16
122: MEMOIRS OF MRS. ANDREWS.
^
Boreaway the precious gem
To its native skies.
The casket which contained
This incomparable jewel,
As it was formed of earth,
So it was returned thither,
# i. here .
ill the appoin ay.
* Which ºft. it
In immortal glory.
Wonder not, stranger,
That the soul of this excellent person
Made so short a visit to our world,
As her prayers and devout breathings
W. the wings and gales . . . .
That waſted her deeply sanctified spirit
To the realms on high.
Depart, traveller, T.
Ponder, and be wise.
3 I
LADY ALI C E LU CY.
THIS lady was honourably descended, though the particulars of her
pedigree are not related in the memoirs we have met with concerning
her. -
. She entered early in life into the marriage state, though not sooner
than she was qualified for it. To her husband, Sir Thomas Lucy, of
Charlcot, in Warwickshire, she was reverently amiable ; and from him,
for all the virtues which a husband can wish for in a wife, she received
as much honour as she could expect or desire.
After this honourable pair had lived together in this near relation for
thirty years with much endearment and delight, it pleased God to dis-
solve the tie, by taking away her support and honour, far dearer to her
than her very life. But it pleased God also to show himself very gracious
to her, by upholding her, comforting her, and enabling her prudently
to manage her great estate, and to order her numerous family with ad-
mirable wisdom; especially if we consider that her bodily infirmities for
the most part confined her to her chamber, and seldom permitted her to
stir abroad.
She continually carried about her the burden of a weak body, but she
bore it with an exemplary patience, and improved it to her spiritual ad-
vantage. It was her great affliction that she could not visit the house
of God, and attend upon the public ordinances, where God hath pro-
mised his presence, and where we may expect his blessing. But be-
cause she could not go from her own habitation to the house of God, she
made a church of her own house, where for several years she, every
Lord’s-day, in the evening, unless she were prevented by extraordinary
weakness, heard the preaching of the word, strictly requiring the pre-
sence of all her family, and showing herself an example of great rever-
ence and singular attention.
Her first employment every day was her humble addresses to Almighty
God in secret. Her next was, to read some portion out of the Divine
word, and of other good and profitable books; and indeed she had a
library well stored with most of our excellent English authors. No
Sooner did she hear of the publication of any pious book, than she en-
deavoured to make it her own, and to make herself the better by it.
She spent much time in reading, and was able to give a good account
of what she read; for she had an excellent understanding, as in secular
so in spiritual things. Finding the benefit of this practice as to herself,
she recommended it to her children, whom she caused every day to .
read some portions both of the Old and New Testament in her presence
and hearing. In the afternoon, she employed some time in the same
manner she had done in the morning. About an hour before supper,
she appointed some one of her children to read some godly and useful
sermon before herself and her other children, frequently taking occasion
of instilling into them some pleasant and profitable instruction, and ex-
horting them to a constant religious walk with God. In the evening, a
little before she went to rest, she ordered them all to come into her
124 MEMOIRS OF
chamber, where they joined in singing a psalm, as the servants did also
constantly after supper before they rose from the table; the men-servants
in the hall, and the maid-servants in a more private room. After her
children had done singing, with many pious exhortations, and her ma-
ternal benediction, she dismissed them, and then closed the day with
secret duties as she began it. This was her continual course.
By what has been said we may observe, that she was of a pious spirit
herself, and as careful to leave the like pious impressions upon her chil-
dren after her. Some of them tasted death before their dear mother;
yet she left then behind her five sons and five daughters, who were all
present at her funeral, and who all (like the children of Solomon's
virtuous woman, Prov. xxxi. 28) “called her blessed.”
Next to the golden chain of graces, mentioned by St. Peter, (2 Pet.
i. 5, 6, 7,) with which she was eminently beautified, and the ornament
of a meek and quiet spirit, (1 Pet. iii. 4,) she accounted her children to
be her chief ornaments; and therefore her desires and earnest endeavours
were, to ennoble and adorn them with all virtuous habits, and to make
them the true children of God. She knew, and was solicitous to have
them know too, that, if they would be happy, to their great birth there
must be added the new birth, that to great kindred and alliance there
must be a relation to the family of heaven, and that to a great estate
there must be added the riches of grace, or that else they would wish
one day they had never been born. She often inculcated it upon them,
that true grace is true greatness, and that the more any of them feared
and served God, the greater share might they expect in her love.
This “elect lady,” to adopt the compellation of the Apostle, (2 John,
1,) was much in those holy exercises by which she might make her
calling and election sure. She was much in the duties of piety, and
much in the duties of charity. Many coats and garments did this
Dorcas provide for the poor. God gave her the blessing of a great estate,
and then added even a greater blessing than that, a heart to make a
right use of it.
Every day she reached out her hands to the needy. A great number
she relieved at her gates, and gave charge to her porter, that when there
came any who were very aged, or who complained of great losses in
those dismal times of our civil wars, especially if they seemed honest,
that he should come and acquaint her, that she might enlarge her charity
to such objects; which if at any time he had neglected to do, she would
probably have been as much displeased with him, as she once was with
another of her servants for neglecting an order she had given him
for the relief of some poor persons. In the times of scarcity, she sent
every week many loaves to neighbouring towns. She caused her corn
to be sold in the markets in such small quantities as might not exceed
the abilities of the poor to purchase. She allowed certain meals in her
house to several poor neighbours, whose want was visible in their pale
faces; and, when they had by her bounty recovered their former com-
plexion, and had received, as it were, a new life by her means, she with
pleasure declared, “That the sight of such a happy alteration in them
did her as much good as any thing which she herself had eaten.” . She
continually employed many ancient men and women in such works as
were adapted to their age and strength.
When the physician came at any time to her house, she used to in-
LADY ALICE LUCY. H25
quire of him whether there were any sick persons in the town, that if
there were any, they might enjoy the same helps with herself. But at all
times, if any persons were ill, and she had intelligence of it, she most
cheerfully communicated whatsoever she thought most conducive to
their recovery, having not only great store of cordials and restoratives
always by her, but great skill and judgment in the application of them. .
As our Lord said to the woman of Canaan, (Matt. xv. 28,) “ Great
is thy faith,” so, we may say of this excellent lady, that great was her
charity; for she well knew that faith is but a fancy without the labour
of love; that the greater any are, the better they should be ; that the
more they have, the more good they should do; and “that pure religion
and undefiled before God and the Father is, to visit the fatherless and
widows in their affliction, and to keep ourselves unspotted from the
world.” And the whole of this pure and undefiled religion was exem-
plified in her ; for, as we have seen that she visited the fatherless and
widows, so she kept herself unspotted from the world. As the Apostle
says, (Rom. vii. 33,) “Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God’s
elect! it is God who justifies;”—so may we say, Who can lay any thing
to the charge of this elect lady ? It was God who sanctified her. Not
so as to free her from the inherency of sin, (for so He sanctifies none in
this life,) but so as to deliver her fiom the dominion of it, and from all such
acts as would have cast a dishonour and blemish upon her; as all who
knew her must acknowledge. Her soul might be compared to a
beautiful well-cultivated garden, which was not only free from preva-
lent weeds, but richly replenished with all manner of fragrant flowers
and delicate fruits. &
At her entrance into her last sickness, which was about a fortnight’s
continuance, she apprehended that her life would be very short, and
accordingly composed and prepared herself for her dissolution; but yet,
she durst not but make use of her physicians, whose eminent skill and
fidelity she had frequently experienced, having been raised up by
them, as the instruments in the hands of God, from the very gates of
death. But the time was come, when, as the poet says,
“Non est in medico semper relevetur ut aeger;
Interdum doctà plus valet arte malum.” +
ENGLISHED.
Sometimes the best physicians cannot heal
The dire diseases which their patients feel;
- But, spite of all their med'cines, all their art,
Victorious death plants his unerring dart.
The last words of this pious lady were, “My God, I come flying unto
thee.” Presently after, her soul took its flight hence, and her body
quietly slept in the Lord, anno Christi 1648.
Such were her humility and modesty, that, although in that magni-
ficent monument she erected for her husband, she caused herself to be
laid by him in her full proportion, yet, she would not suffer her epitaph to
bear any proportion to his ; conceiving that the most that could be said
of him was too little, and that the least that could be said of herself was
* Ovid de Pont.
$26 MEMOIRS OF LADY LUCY.
too much. She was unwilling that any thing at all should be said of
herself; but, when that might not be permitted, she would by no means
allow of any more to be inscribed concerning her than this: “Her ob-
servance of her dearest husband, while she enjoyed him, and her re-
"membrance of him by that monument, when she had lost him.” Only
one thing more was added, but much against her will, namely, that
her other exquisite virtues were forbidden by her excessive modesty to
make their appearance on that marble.
LADY MARGARET HOUGHTON.
To a sermon preached at Preston, in Lancashire, January the 4th, 1657,
at the funeral of this lady, by that eminent minister of Christ, Mr. Isaac
Ambrose, we are indebted for the following account of her. After the
author of the discourse had finished his subject, Eph. v. 16, on redeem-
ing the time, he thus speaks of this excellent person. *
The deceased redeemed her time in life and death.
I. In life. Ordinarily every morning and every evening, she was
exercised in the duties of meditation and prayer. This was her course,
and daily in her walks or private chamber she spent both her early and
later hours in communion with God. I speak not this by report only,
for, of her goodness, she was pleased to invite me every spring to her
house, and by this means I became acquainted with her constant prac-
tice. Indeed, I was the more willing to embrace her invitation, be-
cause her house seemed to me like a college for religion, or a retirement
from the noises and more frequent temptations of the world; and this
gave her and me, and all who pleased, a happy opportunity of conti-
nuing our devotions without interruption. She had some books for
contemplation, others for a holy conversation, others, for devotion, and
of all these sorts she made some use. But of all books for constant use
and practice, she preferred the Bible, often telling me, “That other
books had their use and delight, till, by frequent reading, they became
more ordinary, and that then they seemed to lose something of their
former lustre and excellency; but that the Bible was in her frequent
reading ever fresh and new.” She found in; it such perpetual streams
of holy, heavenly, and spiritual delights, that, as Tertullian said, “she
could not but admire and adore the fulness of the Seripture.”, , , , , , ,
She commonly spent the rest of the day in the works, of the needle,
with her maids about her. Or, if other things of housewifery, inter-
posed, she was never so elevated with honour as to be above her duty in
the way of a particular calling ; as she well knew that idleness is the
rust and canker of the soul, and Satan's very tide-time of temptation.
She would sometimes visit poor cottages, and relieve the negessitieś,
she found there. In a word, she was ever careful in the affairs of her.
own house, and courteous to all the neighbourhood. Take her all toge-
ther, and, for aught I know, she might be a pattern to most of the ladies
in the nation, or at least shine as a bright morning star: among other
StarS. ,' . .' . . . . . . . ; ; ; . . . . .”
II. As she redeemed her time in life, so she redeemeditin or near death.
She was now taken off her particular calling, and therefore this time she
spent, as far as her sickness would allow her, in the exercise of spiritual
duties and spiritual graces. As to her graces, she shone, and was most emi.
nent in these that follow. 1. In meekness. She was of a mild and quiet
spirit. Seldom have I seen her inordinate in passions; but often have I
observed her, amidst provocations peaceable, meek, gentle, and easy to be
* * f : * *
# 1 : ; .
128 MEMOIRS OF
entreated. In her sickness she behaved herself as a lamb. Not a word
of passion or peevishness dropped from her lips, so far as I observed. The
very image of Christ was in this respect drawn fair within her. “Learn
of me,” says he, “for I am meek,” (Matt. xi. 29.) A meek Christ,
and she a meek creature. 2. She was eminent for humility. She
was of high descent, and sprung of royal blood, but yet was humble and
lowly in spirit. She never despised the poorest creature, but often stoop-
ed, as I viewed them, to wonderful condescensions. In her sickness,
as well as in death, she laid her honour in the dust. She was far from
their opinion who think humility a diminution and meekness a dis-
paragement to their reputation. She had otherwise learned Christ.
Humility was her ornament ; and with this grace, in the Apostle’s lan-
guage, (1 Pet. v. 5,) she clothed herself both in health and sickness.
3. She was remarkable for her patience, submission, and contentment to
be at the Divine disposal. She had a sore sickness; and because of her for-
mer health, it was to her the sorer. For many years before, she had not
lain sick in bed one day; but many a turn had she taken in her walks
and her gallery; and through much exercise in this way, she had the
advantage of enjoying a good state of health. But now the Lord laid
her on a bed of sickness, not for a few days only, but for a long time to-
gether. She was now God’s prisoner ; and such was the nature of her
sickness, that she could not stir nor move one foot, and yet she was
patient and submissive under the hand of God. She learned the
Church’s lesson, (Micah, vii. 9,) “I will bear the indignation of the
Lord, because I have sinned against him.” She never in the least mur-
mured nor repined, but was conformed to that frame of Eli and David,
* Lord, here an I, do with me as it seems good in thy sight.” 4. She
was eminent for her faith. She was during her sickness no stranger to
the exercise of faith. She often acknowledged her own vileness and
wretchedness, that she was of little faith, and had no ability to help
herself. Indeed her weakness in faith, in grace, and in all performances,
was her constant complaint ; and this made me remind her of that
promise, (Matt. xii. 20, ) “that Christ would not break the bruised reed,
nor quench the smoking flax, till he had brought forth judgment unto
victory.” Other persons I have seen most confident, in their sickness,
of their salvation, whom though I dare not censure, because unacquaint-
ed with their grounds, yet, I ingenuously acknowledge that I dearly
love an humble, trembling, self-condemning frame. Sure I am that
they who are vilest in their own eyes, are the souls in whom God most
delights. Give me a man among you that will, as it were, kiss the dust of
Jesus’ feet, and I dare pronounce concerning such an one, that Christ will
take him into his arms, and lay him in his bosom. This was the spirit of
this good lady. She was full of confession of her spiritual poverty, and
yet she cast herself into the arms of Jesus Christ, yea, she lay at his
feet, crying, “Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief.” And again,
“I rest upon Christ, and upon Christ alone, for heaven and salvation.”
And again, “Though the Lord slay me, yet will I trust in him.” And
again, “He hath delivered,and he doth deliver,and I trust in him that he
will deliver me still.” And again, “Hold out faith, and anon thou
wilt come to vision.” This expression, “ Hold out faith,” was one of
the last she uttered on that last day of her life. 5. She was eminent for
her love to the ministers of Christ. Her heart was wholly set on Christ;
LADY MARGARET HOUGHTON. 199
and, as a true sign of it, she loved the image of Christ, especially in his
ministers. Among others, she was pleased to show her regard to me, the
unworthiest of all my Master’s messengers. She preferred me to this place.
The Lord made her the first wheel of his providence in bringing me
hither; and it was some trouble to her spirit that I left this pastoral
charge before she left the world.” Indeed, she honoured all the ministers
of Christ, yea, the very function itself, for his sake. 6. She was full of
love and charity towards all. Many discords have happened in these
sad times, and she hath suffered much in many respects. In her ap-
proaches near the confines of eternity, I desired her to forgive others,
as she desired God to forgive her ; at which she very affectionately de-
elared that she freely forgave all the world, and that she desired all whom
she had offended to forgive her. Her children kneeling about her, she gave
them her blessing, as Jacob to Joseph and his children. This blessing
was pronounced with that cheerfulness, affection, and fervency of spirit,
that it melted the hearts, and drew a flood of tears from the eyes of those
who were about her bed, so that she was forced to rouse up herself, and
to bespeak them, as Christ did those weeping women, “Weep not for
me, but weep for yourselves. Why should you weep for me who am
going to my Christ, and to those joys prepared by him 'P' And then she
gave a charge respecting the duty to be performed by brethren. It con-
cerned him most who was the eldest son, and, so far as justice or religion
calls, I presume it will not be forgotten by him. Once more. 7. This
pious lady was desirous to die, and to be with Jesus Christ, which was
best of all. Sometimes she cried, “O ! when will that blessed hour
come 'P' And again, “O ! that I were dissolved, that I might be with
Christſ’ Being told of her duty, that she must wait, for that waiting
was a fit posture for servants, (Psalm czxiii. 2,) “Behold as the eyes of
servants look to the hand of their masters, and as the eyes of a maiden
to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes wait upon the Lord our God, till
he have mercy upon us.”—“Why then,” said she, “I will wait : Lord, I
will wait till my change shall come.” Only she bore in mind that pro-
mise, Heb. x. 37, “ For yet a little while, and he that shall come will
come, and will not tarry.” One thing occasioned her trouble. She was
afraid that her body would not yield without much struggling to the
stroke of death. This she mentioned to me and others once and again.
Her reasons were best known to herself, but her apprehensions were veri-
fied; for indeed, when death seized her heart, she uttered such groans,
that she out-groaned all our prayers. At last, death by degrees over-
came the strength of nature, and then she calmly and quietly left the
world in the midst of our supplications.
You see now, how she redeemed the time in life and death. ' As
Christ said to the lawyer, so say I to you, “Go thou, and do likewise.”
It is not long that all of you have to live, and therefore, I beseech you,
improve time, and lay hold of every season to secure heaven. Walk ac-
eurately, exactly, circumspectly, “not as fools, but as wise, redeeming
the time, because the days are evil.”
* Mr. Ambrose was some time minister of Preston, at which place he preached this lady's
funeral sermon, and afterwards was minister at Garstang, in the county of Lancaster, where
the Act of Uniformity found him, 1662.
17
{
|
M R. S. A N N B A Y N A R D.
This sensible, learned, and pious gentlewoman was born at Preston,
in Lancashire, and was the beloved daughter and only child of Dr. Ed-
ward Baynard, Fellow of the College of Physicians in London, a gentle-
man of a very ancient and respectable family, by Ann his wife, daughter
of Robert Rawlinson, of Carke, Esquire, in the same county. The
father, upon the discovery of his daughter’s elegant and sprightly genius,
joined with a natural propensity to learning, most generously gave her
a very liberal education, which she improved to the best and noblest
purposes. For her character we are indebted to the reverend and learn-
ed John Prude, M.A., who preached her funeral sermon, and who tells
us in the introductory part of it, “that as the learned and ingenious
young gentlewoman never made a show of any fondness or affectation
in her outward dress, when living, so, a plain and ordinary one may be
the better excused, now she is dead.”
As for learning, says he, whether it be to understand natural causes
and events, to know the courses of the sun, moon, and stars, the quali-
ties of herbs and plants, to be acquainted with the demonstrable verities
of the mathematics, the study of philosophy, the writings of the an-
cients, and that in their proper language, without an interpreter, these,
and the like, are the most noble accomplishments of a human soul, and
accordingly bring great delight and satisfaction along with them; and in
these things this young lady was not only conversant, but she was mis-
tress of them, and that to such a degree as few of her sex have ever
arrived at. She had from her infancy been trained up in the know-
ledge of these things, and had made such a great progress in them, that
at the age of only three-and-twenty years, she had attained to the
knowledge of a profound philosopher. But that which most challenges
our admiration, is, that one so young, of an infirm constitution, and the
tenderest sex, not accustomed to the advantages of the philosophic
schools, should, in the hard knotty arguments of metaphysical learn-
ing, be a most nervous and subtle disputant. From her amazing
success, let none despair or complain of the roughness of the path, or
the acclivity of learning's hill; for she was a clear and lively instance,
that neither the crabbedness of languages, nor the abstruseness of the
arts and sciences, are too hard to be conquered by indefatigable diligence
and application.
She took great pains to perfect her knowledge in the Greek tongue,
that she might with the greater pleasure read that elegant father, St.
Chrysostom, in his own pure and native style; and her good acquaint-
ance with the Greek Testament, in which she was much conversant,
was a great help to her improvement in that language. She was not sa-
tisfied with reading only, but she set herself to the composing of many
things in the Latin tongue, which were uncommon and useful in their
kind, and were written in a beautiful style. She had indeed a vast and
MRS. ANN BAYNARD. 131
comprehensive knowledge, a large and exalted mind, and a strong and
capacious memory, and was still coveting more and more knowledge. In
this particular alone, she would often say, it was a sin to be contented
with but a little.
But, after all these acquisitions and endowments, with profound hu-
mility and prostration of mind, she would cry out with the Apostle Paul,
“I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ
Jesus my Lord.” In which knowledge she was no small proficient.
She has been heard to say, “That human learning was worth nothing,
unless, as an handmaid, it led to the knowledge of Christ, revealed in
the Gospel as our only Lord and Saviour.”
She would discourse finely after this manner, by which she evinced
the devotion of her spirit, and how well religion was understood, and
how much it was preferred by her. “What avails Solomon's skill in all
the works of nature, if by them we are not brought to see the God of
nature ? What is it to be so skilful in astronomy, or the knowledge of
the heavens, as that we can foretell things to come, if we never study by
our holy practice to arrive at those blessed regions ! What is it to be so
skilful in arithmetic, as that we can divide and subdivide to the smallest
fractions, if, as God hath revealed unto us in his holy word, we do not so
learn to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom 7–
What is it for a physician to be so skilful in foreseeing and preventing
the diseases of the body, if, as God hath revealed unto him, he knows
not where to find that balm of Gilead, the wine and oil of that Samari-
tan, the Lord Jesus Christ, to pour into the festered wounds of his own
soul and conscience P”
Such was her frequent discourse ; this the heavenly manna that often
dropt from her lips. As further evidences of her piety, she gave her con-
stant attendance on the word and sacrament, and the daily prayers of the
church, and was never absent from them, unless prevented by some bo-
dily infirmity, with which in the latter part of life she was much afflict-
ed. Nor were her private devotions less than those that were public. In
her closet, with holy David, she communed with her own heart, and se-
cretly examined the state and condition of her soul, that she might stand
in awe, and sin not. She readily embraced all opportunities of retire-
ment, that she might have the better intercourse with heaven; as know-
ing that the surest way of overcoming the world, and living above it,
was, to withdraw herself from it, and that the best preparation for death
was to die daily in holy solitude and privacy. By this practice she had
disposed her mind for the time of her dissolution; and it appeared that
it pleased God to give her some distant presages of it. * *
About two years before her death, her meditations leading her in
her solitary walks into the churchyard, and resting herself in the
porch there, and no doubt ruminating on her mortality, which the place
suggested to her, a sudden thought, a strong impulse broke in upon her
mind, that in a short time she should die, and be buried in that church-
yard. The impulse was so far from casting any horror or melancholy
into her mind, that on the contrary, it made her in love with the place,
and she was ever after desirous to retire there, and accordingly chose
it for the spot in which she would be buried.
We shall not do justice to the character of this young gentlewoman,
if we do not mention her charity, which, indeed, in her circumstances,
132 MEMOIRS OF
could not be very extraordinary as to sums, but it was truly so in the
cheerfulness and constancy of her giving ; for, whatever her allow-
ance was, she duly laid aside a certain portion of it for benevolent and
pious uses. But her charity did not stop here, but raised itself to a
higher degree of spirituality, and beyond the scene of this world. She
had a great love for the souls of men, and was heavily afflicted with
the errors, follies, and vices of the age ; to see that those who called
themselves Christians should, by bad principles, and worse practices,
dishonour their profession, and not only hazard their own salvation,
but that of their weak brethren too, for whom Christ died. And this
temper of mind made her not only importunate in her intercessions for
the good of the world, but gave her courage and discretion above her
years and sex, to benefit the souls of those with whom she conversed
by friendly reproof, good counsel, or some learned or pious discourse.
In the exercise of this Christian love she lived, and in this she died.
“And here,” says the minister above mentioned, who preached her fune-
ral discourse, “that I may not be thought to flourish, be pleased to un-
derstand, that she desired me on her death-bed, that I would exhort all
young people to the study of wisdom and knowledge, as the means to
improve their virtue, and bring them to the truest happiness; and this,
I think, I cannot do better than in the words which were taken from
her own mouth, just upon her departure, when her soul was hovering
upon her lips ready to take wing for that other world. Her words
were these, which were faithfully penned down, and delivered into my
own hands.”
“‘I desire,” says she, “that all young people may be exhorted to the
practice of virtue, and to increase their knowledge by the study of philo-
sophy, and more especially to read the great book of nature, wherein
they may see the wisdom and power of the great Creator, in the order
of the universe, and in the production and preservation of all things,
It will fix in their minds a love to so much perfection, frame a divine idea
and an awful regard of God, which will heighten devotion, lower the
spirit of pride, and give a habit and disposition to his service. It will
make us tremble at folly and profaneness, and command reverence and
prostration to his great and holy name.
“‘That women,” says she, “are capable of such improvements, which
will better their judgments and understandings, is past all doubt, would
they but set to it in earnest, and spend but half of that time in study
and thinking, which they do in visits, vanity, and folly. It would in-
troduce a composure of mind, and lay a solid basis and ground-work for
wisdom and knowledge, by which they would be better enabled to serve
God, and help their neighbours.’”
Mr. Prude, being minister of the parish, had undoubtedly frequent
opportunities of forming a right judgment of the lady. But, though
he has given us such a large and satisfactory account of her excel-
lencies, yet he seems to lament it as his infelicity, that he knew her
but so little a time before she was removed from our world, and he was
called to preach her funeral discourse : “I should otherwise,” says he,
“have learned much more from her; I should, as the wise man speaks
of wisdom in general, have attended to her wisdom, and bowed my ear
to her understanding.”
The lady died at Barnes, in the countyof Surrey, on the 12th of June,
MRS. ANN BAYNARD. 133
1697, and was buried at the east-end of the churchyard, where is a small
monument erected to her memory, on which is the following inscription:
ANN BAYNARD obiit
Jun. 12. Anno AEtat. suae 25. *
Christi 1697.
O mortales! quotusquisque vestrum cogitat,
Ex hoc momento pendet aetermitas.
IN ENGLISH.
Ann Barnand died on the 12th of June, in the 25th year of her age, and of Christ 1697.
Mortals, how few among your race
Have given this thought its weight,
That on this slender moment hangs
Your everlasting state?
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
L.A. D Y FR A N C E S HO BAR. T.
THIs noble lady was born in London in the year 1603. She was the
eldest of eight daughters, who all grew up to mature age, with which
it pleased God to bless the Right Honourable John Earl of Bridgewater,
Wiscount Brackley, and Lord Elsmere, Lord President of Wales, by his
noble Lady, Frances, daughter of the Right Honourable Ferdinando,
Earl of Derby.
The lady, the subject of our memoirs,” had no sooner passed out of
the care of her nurse, and begun to speak, but she was, in her father's
house, intrusted to the tuition of a French governess, from whom she
learned to pronounce the French tongue before she could distinctly speak
English ; an accomplishment which she retained to her dying day; and
having her organs of speech so early formed to this language, she so
naturally accented it, that the natives of France could hardly be persuad-
ed that she was born in England.
The years of her minority were spent in learning what was proper for
that very early age, and that might qualify her for that noble station in
which, if Providence spared her life, she was to appear in the world.
She was now instructed in playing upon the lute, in singing, &c.;
things of which in her after life she made little or no use, and which were
even less in her esteem; but they fitted her for the court, with which
she was to be acquainted, before her dismission into the country. She
was taught also to read, to write, and cast accounts with great skill and
exactness, to use her needle, and order the affairs of a family; qualifica-
tions which in future time proved of extraordinary advantage both to her-
self and her husband. She was also, in these younger days of her time,
partly by the diligence of her governess, partly by the pains of Mr. Moor,
her father's chaplain, and partly by the superintending care of the Earl
her father, fully instructed in the principles of religion; as to which
she would often mention with particular honour her father and her go-
verness, and the last especially, for the good histories she would tell her,
and the good counsel she instilled into her. She gratefully remembered
how exactly the hours of her days were portioned out for the several kinds
of instruction, so that no time was left her, except a small allowance
for exercise, and what was granted her for her private devotions, as to
which her governess was her most faithful monitor, or for the more
public religious duties of the family, in which her constant presence was
required by her father. *
Having attained to riper years, she was frequently at the court of
King James and Queen Ann, and was in great favour with the Queen,
and King Charles the First, then Prince of Wales. She made frequent
* For these memoirs, we are indebted to a piece entitled, “The Excellent Woman, a Dis-
course from Proy. xxxi. 29, 31, upon occasion of the death of the Rt. Hon. Lady Frances Ho-
bart: to which is prefixed, A'short Account of her Holy Life and Death.” By Dr. John
Collinges.
ſº LADY FRANCES HOBART. 135
sad reflections upon this period of her life, for mispending a part of many
Lord’s-days in masques and other court-pastimes, according to the cus-
tom of others in like circumstances. This she would often mention
with bitterness, and with a commendation of one of her noble sisters,
who had in her youth a just sense of the error of such conduct, and cou-
rage enough to resist the temptations to it. . It was the only thing in
which a divine, who was well acquainted with her, declared that he ever
heard her repent her obedience to her mother, and her attendance upon
her.
The noble soul of this lady was ordained for higher things than balls,
and masques, and visits. It was now time for a plant nurtured with so
rare a cultivation, to be removed into another place, that her God might
have the glory, and her generation the fruit of such an education. Her
native beauty, and the excellent parts she began to discover, made many
noble persons desire her in marriage; but at length, with the approba-
tion of her parents, she chose for her husband Sir John Hobart, of Bricklin
in the county of Norfolk, Bart., who was the eldest son of Sir Henry
Hobart, at that time Lord Chief Justice, and Chancellor to the Prince.
He was a person, indeed, as to title, in the lowest order of nobility; but
his estate bore a full proportion to his quality, and his noble spirit and
temper far better suited his excellent lady, than a higher ascent in
the scale of honour, with a different spirit and temper, would have
done. º
In her conjugal relation, she was to become more conspicuous. She
was now, as it were, planted upon a hill, in which those good seeds which
had been sown in her ingenuous soul during her minority, sprung up,
and yielded abundant fruit in the whole of that triple capacity to which
this relation, in some little succession of time, brought her ; that of a
wife to a worthy husband, that of a mother of children, and that of a mis-
tress to a numerous family of servants.
As to her prudent management of the affairs of her household, she
was not only so vigilant as that it was no easy thing for any servant to
impose upon her, but she also extended her regard to concerns which
were more extrinsical, and not the ordinary province of women; for, find-
ing her husband encumbered with a great debt, she undertook the ma-
nagement of his whole estate, and the auditing of all his accounts, and
so happily succeeded in the business, as to diminish several thousand
pounds of the sums which he owed.
Her respect to her husband’s person, her concealment of his weakness-
es, and her obedience to his commands, showed that she had learned
that precept of sacred writ, Eph. v. 22, “Wives, submit yourselves to
your own husbands as unto the Lord; for the husband is the head of the
wife, even as Christ is the head of the Church.” Most remarkable was
this lady’s kind sympathy with her husband in those bodily afflictions
with which it pleased the Divine Providence to visit him. From their
first marriage, he was visited with afflictions, though in different degrees;
and his noble consort seemed to be allotted to him as much for a nurse
as for a wife. Her care for him, and tenderness of him, was beyond
expression; of which the writer of her memoirs declares, he was an eye-
witness for the seven or eight last months of his life, when his distem-
pers lay heaviest upon him. In the day-time she confined herself to his
chamber, seldom leaving him for so much as an hour, unless to attend
136 MEMOIRS OF
upon public ordinances, to take her meals, or perform her secret devo-
tions. In the night, she watched with him to such a strange excess, as
some may deem it, that all about her wondered how her tender frame
could bear the continual fatigue; seldom laying herself down to take
any rest till two or three o'clock in the morning, and then taking it upon
an ordinary couch in his chamber, where she might hear every groan,
and be at hand to render her husband every service in her power.”
But this is not all. She was as much a meet help for her husband
as to the things of eternity and the salvation of his soul, as in the con-
cerns of the present life. The familiar compellation which her husband
generally used in speaking to her, was, “my dear saint;” and this not
without good reason, from the experience he had had of her in spiritual
things. No sooner had God wrought a change in the heart of this no-
ble lady, than there sprang up with it a great solicitude for the best inte-
rests of the companion of her life. By her prudent admonitions and
pathetic entreaties, he was recovered from the vanities he had indulged
in in his youth, so as to abhor the things in which he had formerly de-
lighted, and to inquire after, choose, and find his pleasure, in those good
ways of God, with which formerly he had no acquaintance, and against
which, for want of a due knowledge, he had conceived a prejudice.
He now unweariedly desired and was present at private fasts and other
religious duties, and admonished his friends and severely reproved others,
and especially his servants, as to those errors which had once been too
much his practice and delight. In short, by the blessing of God upon
the public ministry of the word, upon which he now diligently attended,
and the more private means of his excellent lady, he was brought to so
good a hope, through grace, for several months before he died, as with-
out perturbation to view death every day making its near approaches to
him, and at last, not without testimony of a true hope in God, quietly
to commit his soul into the hands of his blessed Redeemer.
Having viewed this lady in her marriage-relation, we shall next con-
sider her as a parent. She was the mother of nine children, of which
only one,a daughter, lived to marriageable years, the rest all dying either
in their infancy, or before they had arrived to mature age. This young
lady was married to an honourable and worthy person, Sir John
Hobart, Bart. the heir of her father's honours and family; by whom it
pleased God, after some years, to give her a son, whose birth she did not
long survive, being taken away from our world many years before the
death of her mother. The son she left behind soon followed her to the
grave ; and thus did the good lady, the subject of our memoirs, live to
see God stripping her of every branch that had sprung from her, though
he had a better name with which to crown and comfort her, than that
of sons and daughters. “Concerning her deportment to her other chil-
dren,” says Dr. Collinges, “while she enjoyed them, I can say nothing
not having had the advantage of knowing her till some years after Gºi
had deprived her of them ; only I may rationally presume it was not
unlike to what she showed to the only survivor. For her I could say
much, if, while she had a being with us, by her pious disposition, affable
and ingenuous temper, and most virtuous conversation, in short, by what-
soever accomplishments could perfect and adorn a young and virtuous
lady, she had not both approved herself to all to whom she was known,
and also commended her by whom she was educated to such a pitch
LADY FRANCES HOBART. 137
of feminine perfection. The instruction of her father which she heard,
and the law of her mother which she did not forsake, proved an orna-
ment of grace unto her head, and as chains of gold and orient pearls
about her neck. And indeed, as there was nothing wanting in nature
to accomplish that young and excellent lady, so her virtuous mother
had resolved that nothing should be wanting which either her own care,
or the art of others, could help her to. Nor did this rare lady show
more of a mother to her while she lived, than of a Christian mother
when it pleased God to extinguish this light of her eyes, and quench
this only coal which she had left her; taking her death with that due
sense which became so tender and indulgent a mother, and yet, with
that patience and fortitude which became not only her rational spirit,
which considered that she had brought forth a mortal daughter, but
also a submissive Christian, who had learned not to repine against
He aven, but in great measure to melt down her own into the Divine
Will.” tºº,
We shall next consider this noble person in the relation of a mistress
to a numerous family of servants; and it may be truly said of her, that
she accºuitted herself in it with an honour equal to that with which she
adorned her other capacities in life. She behaved herself in such a
manner to her domestics, as that her carriage would not allow them to
be proud and malapert on one side, nor discouraged into a servility and
baseness of spirit on the other. After the choice of her servants devolv-
ed entirely on herself, her great care in the first place was, to procure
persons for her household who feared God. She might indeed, as to
such, be once and again deceived ; but none were ever suffered to con-
tinue in her house, when she had once discovered them to be drunkards,
unclean persons, profane swearers, enemies to religion and godliness, or
in any way wicked and scandalous; and her eye was so much upon her
family, and her care so much employed in the discipline of it, that it
was not easy for any such persons to be long concealed, but they were
quickly seen in their true light, either by herself or her steward.
She not only amply provided for the comfortable maintenance of her
servants, but she also bestowed a more than ordinary concern for the better
interests of their immortal souls. In short, there were none who served
her, who would not “praise her in the gates; none who ever waited
upon her, but would rise up and call her blessed.”
We shall now view this excellent lady in the third and last period
of her life, when she became a widow. “In this state,” says her bio-
grapher, “she was indeed best known to me, as I had the happiness of
waiting upon her during this whole time, and for some little time before, .
(about seven or eight months,) whence I shall begin my story. It was
in September 1646,” that I was invited by Sir John Hobart, at that time
alive, to take my chamber in his house, while I discharged my minis-
terial office in the city, (Norwich,) and to take some oversight of his
family in the things of God; Sir John himself having been lately va-
letudinarious, and the family without any spiritual guide. I found it in
some disorder; and the several persons in it, the daughter only except-
ed, being persons grown in years, I apprehend it no easy matter to re-
* Dr. Collinges was then only about twenty-three years of age. What an excellent spirit,
and §: endeavours . #. this man .# God discovered so early in life, be
made abundantly evident from the Memoirs of the lady.
18
138 MEMOIRS OF
duce it to a due religious order and discipline. My design was, it being
a family of much leisure, to bring it into a course of prayer, in conform-
ity to David’s pattern, morning, evening, and at noon-time; reading
some portion of Scripture every day, and expounding it, as my leisure
would allow me ; together with catechising once in the week, a stricter
observation of the Lord’s-day, and repetitions of sermons, both on that
and other days, when we had attended upon the public ordinances. I
did not do this as thinking it was what God required of all families, but
because I thought God expected more of us to whom he had given more
leisure from the distracting concerns of the world; because my hands at
that time were not so full of more public employment, but that I could
attend this more than ordinary service in the family; and indeed, be-
cause I thought I saw the family so much behind-hand as to spiritual
knowledge, as that ordinary performances in a short time were not
likely to reach the end at which I aimed.
“As to the generality of the servants, I feared this alteration might
prove like the putting new wine into old bottles, and be judged a yoke
that they were not able to bear. I therefore first communicated my
thoughts to my lady, Sir John’s sickly state not allowing much liberty
for discourse at that time. Her ladyship cheerfully approving my
thoughts, propounded them to her husband, who, with great expressions
of thankfulness, signified his approbation to me, and commanded the
servants diligently to attend the duties; and himself, when his infirmi-
ties would permit him, was never ordinarily absent for some time at our
prayers. At noon and night he was with them. The morning-service
was by seven of the clock, rarely after eight ; from which her lady-
ship, unless in a bed of sickness, in eighteen years, I think, was hardly
twice absent, and was commonly with the first of the family in the room
where they were performed, before her sickly state brought them to her
own chamber.
“The business of catechising was more difficult; but yet, it was made
easy by the parents prevailing with their own daughter to go before the
family in a noble example, which she continued till she had attained a
competent knowledge in the most necessary principles of religion. From
the time I first came into the family, it pleased God to keep Sir John
Hobart in a dying cendition, though he had some more lucid intervals
than others; and within less than eight months, God removed him into
a better life. It was his great satisfaction all along his sickness, to see
his dear daughter making such a proficiency in the knowledge of the
things of God, and so willing to set an example to his family; and he
mentioned it as his dying comfort, that he had seen his family, before
his death, in a course of reformation, which he doubted not but his lady
would bring to perfection.” f
To come directly to that period of her life, her ladyship's widowhood.
Now she sat solitary, mourning as a turtle that had lost her mate, and
for a while knew not how to be comforted, because he was not. Having
recovered herself from her passion, and having learned to hold her peace
because it was the Lord’s doing, she made it her first request to Dr. Col-
Hinges, to stay with her, and keep on the course of religious duties in the
family, which he had begun; proposing to him a high encouragement,
from an assurance that he should find her, according to the pattern of the
man after God’s own heart, (Psalm ci.) endeavouring “to walk in her
LADY FRANCES HOBART. *. 139
house with a perfect heart—that those who were of a froward spirit
should depart from her—that her eyes should be upon the faithful of the
land, that they might dwell with her—that they who wrought deceit
should not dwell in her house—that he who told lies should not tarry in
her sight.” To which resolutions she afterwards strictly adhered. To
give herself the advantage of doing good to the souls of many, she at no
small expense converted some less useful lower rooms of her house into
a chapel, which would conveniently hold more than 200 persons. Here
she engaged the above-mentioned minister to preach a lecture every
week, and to repeat one or both of his sermons every Lord’s-day at night,
after the more public sermons were over in the city : which for sixteen
years was continued to a very full auditory, and to the great benefit of
many younger persons, and of those who had not such advantages as
they desired in their own houses, for hearing again what they had been
hearing in the day-time. This work of piety was the more remarkable,
as her ladyship's chapel, lying in the way to that field where young
persons had formerly been used to profane the latter part of the Lord’s-
day by idle walks and recreations, happily intercepted many of them, and
proved, from the example of it, an allurement to them to a further
reverence of the Sabbath, and, from the instructions they heard there,
the happy means of an acquaintance with God and their duty. After
this, her ladyship engaged Dr. Collinges, to preach a morning sermon on
the Lord’s-day, those monthly days only excepted when he was to admi-
nister the communion of the Lord’s Supper more publicly. This course
she continued so long as the good doctor had liberty to preach, or her
ladyship had liberty to hear.
This most worthy lady having thus served her generation according
to the will of God, her time came when she was to fall asleep; or rather,
when, as a shock of corn, she was to be gathered in her season.
The time of her last sickness, the dropsy, which seized her something
more then half a year before her death, afforded no great variety of
temper as to her spiritual condition. She kept on her course of religious
duties in her house and chamber, as formerly. Her work was finished,
both as to the present and future life, her house and her soul were set in
order, so that she had little to do but to be still, and wait for the salvation
of God the remaining days of her appointed time, till her change came.
“I do not remember,” says Dr. Collinges, “that, during her long illness,
she more than twice discovered to me any conflicts in her spirit, though
I constantly attended upon her, and as constantly inquired into the frame
of her spirit. She had sown in tears before, and had now nothing to do
but to reap in joy. Her death was a long time foreseen, both by her
and by ourselves; but, as to the particular time, we were somewhat
surprised, for, when she probably thought the day of her change at
some distance, she lost her senses and her speech, and after two or three
days, quietly fell asleep, in the evening of the Lord’s-day, Nov. 27, 1664.
“Thus lived, thus died,” says her worthy biographer, “this twice
noble, excellent lady, about the sixty-first year of her age ; possibly the
brightest example of piety, and truest pattern of honour, liberality,
temperance, humility, and courtesy, which it hath pleased God in this
last age to show in that part of the world where he had fixed her. A
woman, indeed, not without her infirmities; to assert that, were to
discharge her from her relation to human nature; but as they were of
140 MEMOIRS OF LADY HOBART.

no reproachable magnitude, and the products of natural temperature,
not of vicious habits, so, they were so much outshone by her eminent
gracés and virtues, as that a curious eye could hardly take notice of
them. In a word, none ever lived more desired, or died more universally
* by all worthy persons in the city of Norwich, to which she was
1elated. 4
“She was buried in a vault belonging to the family of her dear and
noble husband, at Bricklin, in Norfolk, December 1, 1664; therein pay-
ing her deceased husband a last obedience, who, as I have heard her
pleasantly say, made it his first request to her on the day of her mar-
riage.”
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
T H E L A D Y C U TT S.*
THIS lady, though young in life, being but just turned of eighteen
when she died, yet, was continued long enough to hold forth a bright
example of female excellency to the world. -
In her devotions she was very punctual and regular. Morning and
evening came not more constantly in their course, than her stated hours
of private prayer, which she observed not formally, as a task, but return-
ed to them always with desire, delight, and eagerness. She would on
no occasion dispense with herself from paying this duty. No business,
no common accident of life, could divert her from it. She esteemed it
her great honour and happiness to attend upon God, and she resolved to
find leisure for that, for whatever else she might want it.
How she behaved herself in these secret transactions between God
and her soul, is known to Him alone whom she worshipped. But, if
we may guess at her privacies by what was seen of her in public, we
may be sure that she was full of humility, devotion, and fervency, for so
she remarkably was in the time of Divine service. Her behaviour was
then very devout and solemn, and yet the most decent, easy, and unaf-
fected. There was nothing in it either negligent and loose, or extraya-
gant and strained. It was throughout such as declared itself not to be
the work of the passions, but to flow from the understanding, from a
clear knowledge of the true grounds and principles of that her reason-
able service.
This knowledge she attained by early instruction, by much reading
and meditation, to which she appeared from her childhood to be ad-
dicted, and by a very diligent and exact attendance on the lessons of pi- .
ety which were delivered from the pulpit ; which no one practised better,
because no one delighted in, listened to, or considered more ; for at these
performances she was all attention, all ear. . She kept her heart fixed and
intent on its holy work by keeping her eye from wandering. She often
expressed her dissatisfaction at that indecency of carriage which prevails
in assemblies for public worship, and wondered that they should be most
careless of their behaviour towards God, who are most scrupulously nice
in exacting and paying all the little decencies that are in use among men.
When the bread of life was distributed, she was sure to be present; and
the strictness of her attention, and the reverence of her behaviour, were,
if it were possible, raised and improved on these occasions.
Books she took pleasure in, and made good use of; chiefly books of
divinity and devotion, which she studied and relished above all others.
* This lady was the wife of the Right Honourable John, Lord Cutts, for whose gallant be-
haviour at the siege of Namur, 1695, see Rapin's History, vol. xiv. 8vo edit. p. 237,238,239. The
funeral sermon for the lady was preached by Doctor, afterwards Bishop Atterbury, 1698. See
his Sermons and Discourses, vol. i. Sermon vi. The substance of the Doctor's character of her
we here present to our readers.
142 MEMOIRS OF
dº
But, of all books, the Book of God was that in which she was most de-
lighted and employed, and which was never for any considerable time out
of her hands. No doubt, she knew and felt the great use and sweet
influence of it in calming her mind, regulating her desires, and lifting
up her thoughts towards Heaven, in feeding and spreading that holy
flame which the love of God had kindled in her heart, and which she
took care by these means to keep perpetually burning.
When she met with any thing in the holy Oracles, or in any other
pious book, which she thought would be of remarkable use to her in the
conduct of her life and affairs, she trusted not her memory with it, not
even that excellent memory, which she safely trusted with things of
smaller moment, but immediately committed it to writing. Many ob-
servations of this kind she has left behind her, drawn from good authors,
but chiefly from those sacred pages; in collecting which whether her
judgment or her piety had the largest share, it is not easy to determine.
The passages of holy writ which she took notice of, were, indeed,
commonly such as related either to the concerns of her spiritual estate, or
to matters of prudence ; but it appears also, that she spent some time in
meditating on those places where the sublimest points of Christian doc-
trine are contained, and in possessing herself with a deep sense of the
wonderful love of God towards us, manifested in the mysterious work of
redemption. She endeavoured to understand the great articles of faith,
as well as to practise the good rules of life contained in the Gospel, and
she sensibly found, that the best way to excite herself to the practice of
the one, was to endeavour to understand the other.
In the book of God she was particularly conversant on the Lord’s-day,
a day ever held sacred by her; and which, therefore, always in her family
wore a face of devotion suitable to the dignity of it. It was truly a day
of rest to all under her roof. Her servants were then dismissed from a
good part of their attendance upon her, that they might be at liberty to
attend on their great Lord and Master, whom she and they were equally
bound to obey. There were such a silence and solemnity at that time
observed by all about her, as might have become the house of mourn-
ing; and yet, so much ease and serenity were visible in their looks, at
least in her looks, as showed that they who were in the house of feast-
ing were not better satisfied. Thus did she prepare herself for the en-
joyment of that perfect rest, the celebration of that endless Sabbath she
was so soon to enter upon. Thus did she practise beforehand upon
earth the duties, the devotions, the customs and manners, of heaven.
To secure her proficiency in godliness, she kept an exact journal of
her life, in which was contained the history of all her spiritual affairs,
and of the several turns that occurred in her soul. In this glass she
every day dressed her mind; to this faithful monitor she repaired for
advice and direction. She compared the past with the present, judged
of what would be by what had been, accurately observed the several
successive degrees of holiness she attained, and of human infirmity she
shook off, and traced every single step she took onward in her way to-
wards heaven. One would have imagined, that so much exactness
and severity in private would have affected a little her public actions
and discourses, and have wrought themselves insensibly into her car-
riage; and yet, nothing could be more free, simple, and natural. She
had the reality without the outside and show of strictness. All her rules,
LADY CUTTS. 143
- all her performances, sat so well and gracefully upon her, that they
appeared to be as much her pleasure as her duty. She was in the
midst of them perfectly easy to herself, and a delight to all who were
about her, ever cheerful in her behaviour, but withal ever calm and
even. Her satisfaction, like a deep untroubled stream, ran on without
any of that violence and noise in which the shallowest pleasures some-
times abound.
However, cheerful and agreeable as she was, yet, she never carried her
good humour so far as to smile at a profane, an ill-natured, or an un-
mannerly jest; but, on the contrary, in her highest mirth, such a
licentiousness made her remarkably grave and serious. She had an
extraordinary nicety of temper as to all the least approaches to faults
of that kind, and showed a very quick and sensible concern at any
thing which she thought it did not become either her to hear, or others
to say.
True piety, which principally consists in a humility and submission
of mind towards God, is ever attended with humility and goodness to-
wards his creatures, and so it was in this excellent lady. Never was there
a more deep, and unfeigned, and artless lowliness of mind seen in her
rank and station. As far as she was placed above the most of the
world, she conversed, as it were, upon the level with all of them ; and
yet, when she stooped the lowest towards them, she took care, even at
that time, to preserve the respect that was due to her from them. She
had so much true merit, that she was not afraid of being looked into,
and therefore durst be familiar ; and the effect of that familiarity was,
that by being better known, she was more loved and valued. Not
only no one of her inferiors ever came uneasy from her, but no one
went uneasy to her ; so assured were all beforehand of the sweetness
of her temper, and her obliging reception. When she opened her lips,
gracious words always proceeded thence, and in her tongue was the
law of kindness. Her reservedness and love of privacy might possibly
be misinterpreted sometimes for an overvalue of herself; but the least
degree of acquaintance with her made all such suspicions vanish ; for
though her perfections, both of body and mind, were very extraordinary,
yet, she was the only person that seemed, without any endeavour to
seem, insensible of them. She was, it is true, in as much danger of
being vain, as great beauty and a good natural wit could make her;
but she had such an overbalance of discretion, that she was never in
pain to have the one seen, or the other heard. Indeed, this was par-
ticular to her, and a distinguishing part of her character, that she never
studied appearances, nor made any advances towards the opinion of the
world, being contented to be whatever was good, or deserving, without
endeavouring in the least to be thought so; and this not out of any af-
fected disregard to public esteem, but merely from a modesty and easi-
ness of nature, wich made her give way to others, who were more willing
to be observed. And yet, she had also her hours of openness and freedom,
when her soul poured itself into the bosoms of her friends and familiars:
and then, out of the good treasure of her heart what good things did
she bring forth and with what delight was she listened to by those
who had the happiness to converse with her | So that a doubt it is,
whether she were most to be admired for what she did or for what she
did not say. It was wonderful that one who, when she pleased, could
I44 MEMOIRS OF
discourse so fitly, and so freely, should yet choose to be silent on so -
many occasions : and it was surprising that she who was such a lover
of silence, should, whenever she spake, charm all who heard her.
To her command over her tongue, she added a strict and watchful
guard upon her passions, those especially of the rough and troublesome
kind, with which she was scarce ever to be seen disquieted. She knew
not what the disorders of anger were, even on occasions that might seem
to justify, if not to require it. As much as she hated vice, she chose
rather to look it out of countenance, than to be severe against it, and to
win the bad over to the side of virtue by her example rather than by
her rebukes.
Her sweet deportment towards those who were with her, could be
outdone by nothing but her tenderness in relation to the absent, whom
she was sure to think and speak as well of as was possible ; and when
their characters were plainly such as could have no good colours put
upon them, she would show her dislike of them no otherwise than by
saying nothing of them. Neither her good nature nor her religion,
neither her civility nor her prudence, would suffer her to censure any
one. She thought she had enough to do at home in that way, without
looking much abroad, and therefore turned the edge of all her reflections
upon herself.
Her conversation might, for this reason, seem to want something of
that salt and smartness which the ill-natured part of the world are so
fond of; a want that she could have easily supplied, would her princi-
ples have given her leave ; but her settled opinion was, that the good
name of any one was too tender and serious a thing to be played with,
and that it was a foolish kind of mirth which, in order to divert some,
hurt others. She could never bring herself to think that the only thing
which gave life and spirit to discourse was, to have somebody’s faults
for the subject of it, or that the pleasure of a visit lay in the giving up
the company to one another's sport and malice by turns; and if these
are the marks of wit and good-breeding, it must be confessed that she
had neither.
With all this goodness, gentleness, and meekness of disposition, she
had at the same time a degree of spirit and firmness unusual in her sex,
and was particularly observed to have a wonderful presence of mind in
any occurrence of danger.
With these excellent endowments, she had a modesty of temper,
which shone throughout her whole life and conversation. A quality
so strictly required of her sex, that it may be thought not so properly
commendable in any of them to have it, as infamous to want it. How-
ever, in the most common and ordinary graces, there are uncommon
heights and degrees, and it was the particular happiness of this lady,
remarkably to excel in every virtue that belonged to her, even in those
in which Christians of the lowest attainments do in some degree excel.
Her love of purity was the cause why she banished herself from those
public diversions of the town, at which it was scarce possible to be pre-
sent without hearing somewhat that wounded chaste ears, and for which
she thought no amends could be made to virtue by any degree of wit or
humour with which they might abound. These good qualities, she
knew, served only to recommend the poison, and make it palatable.
She had really neither relish nor leisure for such entertainments, nor
LADY CUTTS. 145
for a thousand other things, which the world miscalls pleasures. Not
that she wanted naturally a taste for any thing of this kind, for her ap-
prehension was fine, and her wit very good, and very ready at command,
whenever she pleased to exercise it; but she had turned her thoughts
so much towards things of use and importance, that matters of mere
pleasure grew flat and indifference to her. She was so taken up with
the care of improving her understanding, and bettering her life, in the
discharge of the offices necessary to her rank, in the duties of her closet,
and the concerns of her family, that she found at the foot of the account
but little time, and had less mind to give into those vain amusements.
She did not think it the peculiar happiness and privilege of the great
to have nothing to do, but took care to fili every vacant minute of her
life with some useful or innocent employment. The several hours of the
day had their peculiar business alloted to them; whether it were con-
versation, or work, or reading, or domestic affairs; each of which came
up orderly in its turn, and was, as the wise man speaks, under her ma-
nagement, “beautiful in its season.”
Yet, this regularity of hers was free and natural, without formality
or constraint. It was neither troublesome to herself, nor to those who
were near her. When, therefore, any accident intervened, it was inter-
rupted at that time with as much ease as it was at other times practised;
for, among all her discretionary rules, the chief was, to seem to have
none, and to make those she had laid down to herself, give way always
to circumstances and occasions. a
She wrpught with her own hands often when she could more profita-
bly and pleasingly have employed her time in meditation or reading; but
she was willing to set an example to those who could not, and she took
care, therefore, that her example should be well followed by all that were
under her immediate influence. For she well knew,that the description of
a good wife and a perfect woman in the Proverbs, a description which she
much delighted in, and often read, was spent chiefly in commending that
diligence “by which she looked well to the ways of “her household, and
ate not the bread of idleness;” and she knew also, that the person whose
words these are said to be, was no less a woman than the mother of
King Lemuel.
Diligence and frugality are sisters ; and she therefore, who was so
well acquainted with the one, was not likely to be a stranger to the
other. She was strictly careful of her expenses, and yet knew how to
be generous, and to abound, when the occasion required. But, of all
ways of good management, she liked that the worst which shuts our
hands to the poor; towards whom she always showed herself compas-
sionate and charitable. Of the other delights with which an high for-
tune furnished her, she was almost insensible; but on this account she
valued it, as it gave her an opportunity of pursuing the several pleasures
of beneficence, and of tasting all the sweets of well-doing. “She deli-
vered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to
help him. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon
her, and she caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy,” Job, xxix. 12,
13. In the exercise of this, and of all other virtues, she was wonder-
fully secret, endeavouring to come up as near as she could to the rule
of not “letting her left hand know what her right hand did.” This
secrecy of hers she managed.so well, that some of the most remarkable
19 º
146 MEMOIRS OF
instances of her goodness were not known till after her death; no, not
by him who was the partaker of all her joys and sorrows.
Retirement and privacy she always loved, and therefore chose them
when, after the death.of a near relation, who had the care of her educa-
tion, she was at liberty to have lived otherwise. From that time to her
marriage, which was more than three years, she hid herself in the coun-
try, having an early and settled aversion to the noise and inconveniences
of a town-life, and too little an opinion of herself to think that it was so
much the interest of virtue and religion, as it really was, that she should
be known and distinguished. When afterwards she went to court, as it
was necessary for her sometimes to do, she did it with an air which
plainly showed that she went to pay her duty there, and not to delight
herself in the pomp and glitter of the place.
Soon after her marriage, she declared to several friends her thoughts,
“that every woman of quality was as much obliged, as she was more
enabled than other women, to do good in the world; and that the short-
est and surest way of doing this, was to endeavour, by all means, to be
as goód a Christian, and as good a wife, and as good a friend, as was
possible.”
She endeavoured to do all this, and she fell not far short of her mark;
for she excelled in all the characters that belonged to her, and was in a
great measure equal to all the obligations under which she lay. She
was devout without superstition; strict, without ill humour; good-na-
tured, without weakness; cheerful, without levity; and regular, with-
out affectation. She was to her husband the best of wives, the most
agreeable of companions, and the best of friends; to her servants, the
best of mistresses; to her relations, extremely respectful; to her inferiors,
very obliging; and by all who knew her, either nearly, or at a distance,
she was reckoned, and confessed, to be one of the best of woman.
Short as her life was, she had time enough to adorn the several stages
of virginity and marriage, and to experience the sadness of a kind of
widowhood too; for such she accounted it when her lord was long absent
from her; mourned as much, and refused to be comforted till his re-
turn.
As her life was short, so her death was sudden. She was called away
in haste, and without any warning. One day she drooped, and the
next day she died; nor was there the distance of many hours between
her being very easy in this world, and very happy in another.
However, though she was seized thus suddenly by death, yet she
was not surprised, for she was ever in preparation for it; “her loins
girt,” as the Scripture speaks, “ and her lamp ready trimmed and burn-
ing.” The moment almost that she was taken ill, she was just risen
from her knees, and had made an end of her morning devotions; and to
such a one, a sudden death might well be desirable. Where a pious
soul is in perfect readiness, there the sooner the fatal stroke is struck
the better; all delays in this case are uncomfortable to the dying. In
truth, she could not be called away more hastily than she was willing
to go. She had been used so much to have her conversation in Heaven,
and her soul had been so often upon the wing thither, that it readily
left its earthly station, upon the least notice from above, and took as it
were the very first opportunity of quitting her body, without lingering,
or expecting a second summons. She stayed no longer after she was
LADY CUTTS. 147
called, then to assure her lord of her entire resignation to the Divine
will, and of her having no manner of uneasiness upon her mind, and to
take her leave of him with all the expressions of tenderness. When
this was over, she had nothing more to do. She sank immediately un-
der her illness, and after a short unquiet slumber, slept in peace.
\
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE -
L AD Y E LIZ A BET H H A S T IN G. S.
THE Lady Elizabeth Hastings was born April 19, 1682. Her father
was Theophilus, Earl of Huntingdon, and her mother was the daughter
of Sir John Lewis, of Ledstone, in the county of York, bart., one moi-
ety, and more, of whose very large estate came to her by inheritance.
There was a fine dawn of her future excellencies in her tender age.
A countenance that united in it something great and something conde-
scending ; an ingenuous temper; a quickness of understanding; a bene-
volent spirit; a flexibility of nature; a devout frame; and a solemn sense
of Divine things; were observable in her first departure out of her infancy,
and her footsteps slipped not in the dangerous ascent of life; so that she
was not only free from every stain of vice in her early days, but superior
to the world and its vain and trifling amusements.
Before she launched into life, she was fond of privacy and retire-
ment, and was much in devotional exercises in her closet. In some con-
tests between the Earl her father, and Lord Hastings, her brother, she
observed such a prudence in her conduct, that she preserved the kind-
ness and affection of both ; and, after the death of the former, and till
the decease of the latter, she would be doing good things with her sub-
stance, when her abilities were not so great.
Her ladyship's active life most conspicuously commenced soon after
the death of her brother by the whole blood, the Right Honourable
George, Earl of Huntingdon, already mentioned under the title of Lord
Hastings, when her excellent virtues shone out by what has been the
eclipse of virtue in others, the accession of a large fortune. Then it
was that she became known, and was observed to be something more
then a lady of great beauty and fine accomplishments, of affability and
easy access, of condescension and good nature, and of regular motions
in religion. Her aims were set high, and no attainments in piety and
goodness would content her soul, short of perfection.
When she had not many months finished her twenty-seventh year,
her singular accomplishments and merits were celebrated by the inge-
nious author of the paper called the Tatler, under the name of Aspasia.
But these ancients,” says the writer, “would be as much astonished
to see in the same age, so illustrious a pattern to all who love things
praiseworthy as the divine Aspasia. Methinks I now see her walking
in her garden like our first parent, with unaffected charms, before beauty
had spectators, and bearing celestial, conscious virtue in her aspect. Her
countenance is the lively picture of her mind, which is the seat of ho-
nour, truth, compassion, knowledge, and innocence.
“‘There dwells the scorn of vice and pity too.”
“In the midst of the most ample fortune, and veneration of all that
Z
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 149
behold and know her, without the least affectation, she consults retire-
ment, the contemplation of her own being, and that Supreme Power
which bestowed it. Without the learning of schools, or knowledge of
a long course of arguments, she goes on in a steady course of uninter-
rupted piety and virtue, and adds to the severity of the last age all the
freedom and ease of this. The language and mien of a court she
is possessed of in the highest degree, but the simplicity and humble
thoughts of a cottage are hermore welcome entertainments. Aspasia is
a female philosopher, who does not only live up to the resignation of the
most retired lives of the ancient sages, but also to the schemes and plans
which they thought beautiful, though inimitable. This lady is the
most exact economist, without appearing busy; the most strictly virtu-
ous, without tasting the praise of it ; and shuns applause with as much
industry as others do reproach. This character is so particular, that it
will be very easily fixed on her only by all that know her; but, I dare say
she will be the last that finds it out.”*
In order to assist her endeavours to reach the sublimest heights of
honour and virtue, Lady Elizabeth commenced an acquaintance with
persons eminent for religion, Doctor John Sharp, Archbishop of York,
Robert Nelson, Esq., and Doctor Richard Lucas. Many years after the
decease of all of them, she has been heard to felicitate herself upon the
privilege of her friendship with them. And how much she was esteem-
ed and honoured by Mr. Nelson in particular, (and we have no reason
to think but she had a like esteem from the others,) is evident from a
letter of his yet remaining, in which he applies to her the text, Prov.
xxxi. 29, “Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest
them all.”
In the place (Ledstone-house) where her ladyship spent the greater
part of her life, almost every eye beheld her with wonder. The higher
ranks of mankind were by her acquaintance some of them charmed into
the love of virtue, while others found their virtues heightened and im-
proved. As to the lower part, they were guided by her wisdom, and, if
they wanted it, were cherished by her bounty.
Such was the superiority of her understanding, that, in matters of high
moment, hundreds would ask counsel of her, who were themselves well
qualified to give it to others; for she was blessed with a rectitude of judg-
ment, and could readily penetrate though perplexities, unravel them, and
mark out the wisest and safest conduct, having ever for her ground the
interests of truth, fidelity, honour and religion. Her end was the glory
of God, and the good of all men, keeping all her capacities, all her pow-
ers, and all her fortune continually upon the stretch for the benefit of
her fellow-creatures; weeping with them that weep, rejoicing with them
that rejoice; given to hospitality; distributing to the necessities of the
saints, and to others that were less so; having joy at the conversion
of a sinner, or any the smallest appearances of it. -
Besides the wisdom which is called secular, as having for its objects
the affairs of this life, her ladyship’s mind was endowed with that wis-
dom which comes from above, and was so influenced by it, that whether
she wrote or spoke, it was ever in consistency with it. . Her will was
in full subjection to the precepts of the Gospel. She took her measures
* Tatler, Number 42, dated July 16, 1709.
150 MEMOIRS OF
from them, and observed a close conformity to them. Her will also
bowed to the Divine will in her afflictions. Because they were the
pleasure of God, they were hers too; and, when his arrows stuck fast
within her, and his hand pressed her sore, she possessed herself in these
painful parts of life with great cheerfulness, and preferred them in her
whole judgment, and upon the most important considerations, to the
days of health and ease. As to her affections, they were set upon things
above, panting and longing after the pleasures that are there ; or attach-
ing herself to such employments as infallibly lead to them.
Her ladyship's attendance and apparel were such as became her
place and station. Her body, she knew, was the temple of the Holy
Ghost, and she possessed it in sanctification and honour. Her support
of it by meat, and drink, and sleep, was ever bounded by necessity.
The intervals that happened as to the last were improved in pious medi-
tation, or prudent deliberations what better measures to take in the du-
ties of her Christian calling.
The word of God was a lamp to her feet, and a light unto her paths.
Her delight was in his law, and she made it her every day’s study. She
held her Bible to her heart to receive its quickening virtue, and used it
at the same time as she would a mirror to her face, to discover every
spot and blemish. The other books that she used, were well chosen;
and they were much in her esteem, and often in her hands, in order to
learn from them to examine herself by them, and to see what she had
in common with the children of God, and if in any thing she fell short
of them. She compared spiritual things with spiritual, she pondered
with her own heart, and searched out her spirit, weighing herself as it
were in a balance.
She used her pen much, sometimes for her own service, but more for
the service of others. Besides what papers went abroad, great numbers
remained, but were unhappily destroyed by a severe sentence of her own.
By them she would have been more fully and better known, and more
excellent things might have been spoken of her, than what could have
been gathered by any other information.
She began every day with supplications, and prayers, and interces-
sions in private ; addressing herself to her God with all diligence and
earnestness, and with a recollected spirit and fervency. True it is, that
she allowed herself little intermission in this duty of prayer, every where
attending to the all-seeing eye of God upon her, and having her soul
winged and carried up with holy pantings and aspirations towards Him.
So well did she know the mighty importance of prayer, its gracious
acceptance with the Almighty, and its powerful help to enlighten, re-
lieve, strengthen, and purify the soul, that she made most public provision
for the practice of it, as for herself, so also for her family, collecting all
the members of it, excepting such as were necessarily detained, four times
a day, for the exercise of this duty. Happy was it for those servants
who came under her roof; for there was every thing for them that might
do them good, in a gentle, gracious, considerate, bountiful, compassion-
ate mistress, presiding over them with the disposition of a parent, provi-
ding for the improvement of their minds, for the decency of their
behaviour, and the inoffensiveness of their manners, and using every
possible means and methods to bring them to true religion. And as her
great talents were every way fitted to turn many to righteousness, so,
*:
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 151
they were as successful, and she both near and afar off much enlarged
the borders of God’s kingdom.
She much delighted in public worship, and constantly attended it.
Her behaviour in the house of God was solemn, and grave, and awful,
and clear of all pharisaical affectation, and no doubt much quickened
and animated the devotions of others.
She was ever mindful of every jot and tittle of the law. In this spirit,
her care extended even to her cattle, because that it is declared to be a
property of mercy. She would have the skill and contrivance of every
artificer used in her house, employed for the ease of her servants, and
that they might suffer no inconvenience or hardship. Besides providing .
for the order, harmony, and peace of her family, she kept great elegance
in and about her house, that her poor neighbours might not fall into
idleness and poverty for want of employment ; and, while she thus ten-
derly regarded the poor, she would visit the higher part of the world, lest
those who sought after her friendship should complain of her, or fall
into uncharitableness concerning her, or censure her for being proud and
supercilious.
A just display of her ladyship’s art and manner in company, would
be to place her in one of the most amiable lights. Her talents for con-
versation were most shining and great, and more in truth than she would
allow herself to use ; accordingly, she would restrain a brisk and lively
imagination, and give the demonstrative proofs of a deep and sound
understanding, and to flourishes of wit and humour would prefer the much
better ornaments of courtesy and complaisance. It was her great care,
that they with whom she conversed should be convinced of the honour
and esteem she bore them; to observe a carriage by which none should be
awed or made uneasy at the superiority of her condition ; to see that she
failed not in any part of right decorum, that none might think themselves
neglected or overlooked by her; and to hear and speak according to what
occurred, or was before her, watching all the while with penetration and
eagerness for an happy transition of the discourse to religion ; and, when
that was once gained, she was then in the true enjoyment of her spirit,
and was got into her natural element : for, to say the truth, in all her
intercourses, she was never rightly at ease unless religion had some place
in the conversation, and she thought the spirit of it was dead, in the ma-
jority of the company at least, if there was an utter neglect and silence
as to the one thing needful.
At her table, her countenance was open and serene ; her voice soft
and melodious ; her language polite, and seasoned with salt, treating of
things useful and weighty, and bringing out of her rich treasures of wis-
dom things new and old. Here she displayed all the elegancies of good
breeding, addressing herself to all with great meekness and condescen-
sion, and adapting herself to everyone’s respective talents and capacities.
The smiles of her benevolence were enjoyed by all, and every one felt
the sweetness of her company.
As her house and table were rarely destitute of some or more of her
family, so, she made them all parts of herself, and embraced all her re-
lations, according as they stood in the several degrees of consanguinity,
with true and tender affection. She would also inquire and seek after
any of the withering and drooping branches of her family, and would
kindly support and cherish them, directing her aim by kindnesses of
152 MEMOIRS OF
*.
this nature to serve their best interests, and lead them into the paths of
godliness. -
But what shall we say of her care of all cares, the strangers, the fath-
erless and the widow ; the needy, and him that hath no helper; the lame,
the halt, and the blind 'ſ These objects drew out the compassions of
her soul. She had a share in all their sufferings; she would often con-
verse with them, and inquire into their history with the utmost conde-
scension. She would study their particular cases, and put them in the
way of a better condition. She would visit them in sickness, and bear
the expenses of it. Some of them were ever in her court-yard, or in
her house, and frequently in great numbers; and it was not chargeable
upon any neglect of hers, if any one went away unrelieved with meat,
physic, clothing, or money, according to their several necessities, and
many times a single person would receive all four. Many of those that
lived remote, had yearly allowances; and large sums frequently were
sent into distant parts of the kingdom. --
Her still larger applications of her substance were, fixed pensions
upon reduced families, exhibitions to scholars in the universities, the
maintenance of her own charity-school, her contributions to other schools,
disbursements to religious societies for the propagation of the gospel in
foreign parts, and for promoting Christian knowledge at home, and the
erection and augmentation of churches. To which may be added,
free and frequent remission of debts, in cases of straitness or insolvency;
together with a noble plenty and all-becoming magnificence in her
house, and mighty acts of generosity to relations, friends, and even
to those who were neither. Her ladyship's declared and most ad-
mirable rule was, to give the first place to justice, the second to charity,
and the third to generosity. Of this third method of applying her sub-
stance, surprising instances might be produced; as in five hundred
pounds a year given to one relation, three thousand pounds in money
to another, three hundred guineas, all the money that at the time was
within her reach, and large promises of more, to a young lady who had
very much impaired her fortune by engaging in the South Sea scheme.
At the same time that there were these visible glories that adorned
her ladyship's life, and spread holiness around her, she well knew that
the great scene of religion lies within, and in the right government
there, called the hidden man of the heart : accordingly, her eye was
ever upon her heart, to see that all its principles were cleansed from evil
mixtures, that they had no taint of self-love, and were not sullied with
vain-glory; to observe the tendency of all its motions, which way the
bias of it was set,and how its struggles weakened towards sinful excur-
sions; and she would continually cherish the Divine life by acts of faith
in the blood of her Redeemer, by rating her own righteousness as no-
thing, and by marking well, and daily committing to writing, all her
slips, and penitentially mourning over them.
Such were the diligence and circumspection which this lady used in
her Christian calling. In this practice of piety did she walk closely
with her God; and in this manner, through a series of almost thirty
years, did she shine, the bright example of every virtue, at the same
time that she gave a clear demonstration on how right a basis every
thing stood, and by what principles she was governed, in that she could
never endure to hear one word spoken in her own praise.
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. I53
We shall now accompany her to her closing scene. As was her day,
such was her evening; if, indeed, her sun did not go down with an
improved and redoubled lustre. Her ladyship, in early life, had receiv-
ed a contusion upon her right breast, which left behind it a small inward
tumour, attended with little or no disturbance, and, for that cause,
probably not much regarded. This continued several years without
any sensible increase, till about twenty months before her death it gave
her cause of complaint ; upon which, application was made to a reve-
rend gentleman, (Dr. Johnson,) very eminent for his skill in surgery,
who, upon sight and examination, was clear in his judgment, that
there was an absolute necessity that the affected part should be separat-
ed from the body.
“What her ladyship's first impressions were upon hearing of this,
I will not,” says the author of her historical character, “undertake to
relate: perhaps nature might flinch at first.” But a neighbouring
clergyman, who had a correspondence with one in the family, being
made acquainted by his friend what afflicting sorrow the family was in,
and his friend in particular, without being informed from what cause,
he imagined that it was no common matter, but something of a very
distressing nature, and something, too, in which her ladyship had a very
large share ;-this clergyman immediately wrote back, as suitably as
he could, upon no other grounds than his own conjecture, and happily
touched upon the necessity of sufferings, setting forth briefly those
which Christ endured in the flesh, and observing that he will bring all
his followers in conformity to himself in all things, and that sufferings
were the way to his perfection, and must be so to ours, and that they are
the expressly declared condition of our being glorified with him, the
marks and characteristics of our adoption, and the most sovereign me-
dicines sent from heaven to heal our spiritual diseases. Her ladyship be-
forehand saw into the truth of all this, as she had well explored and di-
gested every other truth in the whole system of our holy religion, and
would often express some uneasiness that her own sufferings, in the ac-
count she made of them, should in a manner be little or none. And it
was the sentiment of one who had a station under her, and was not
unskilled in this kind of knowledge, that the mighty torrent of suffer-
ings which broke in upon her at the last, was designed by her heavenly
Father for this end among others, to solace her spirit, and to strengthen
her assurance that she had every mark and token of her favour and ac-
ceptance with Him. The letter mentioned above was shown to her
ladyship, who, with an emotion beyond what was usual with her, de-
clared, “that she would not wish to be out of her present situation for
all the world, nor exchange it for any other at any price :” and accord-
ingly, with great meekness and tranquillity, without any change in
her temper, with a cheerfulness scarce to be believed, in perfect serenity
and freedom, she went through every day till the time appointed for
the operation, as one who sat loose to, and was indifferent for life or
death.
When the day came for the excision of her breast, great skill and wis-
dom were used in all things, every bad event was guarded against, and
her hands were held by men of strength—but her hands might have been
held by a spider’s thread. She showed no reluctance, no struggle, or
contention, nor did she even make any complaint; only, indeed, towards
20
154 MEMOIRS OF
the end of her bloody baptism, she drew such a sign, as any compas-
sionate reader may do to be told this. Though even this small expres-
sion of anguish has been denied by a clergyman of great worth, who
assisted at the operation, and was one of the number who held her
ladyship's hands; and from his account, one would think that her flesh
was as insensible of pain as her spirit was superior to it.
The following night was not, indeed, a night of much sleep, but it
was a night of truly celestial rest ; a night of thanksgiving to her God
for the visible demonstration of his power in and about her, for his
stretched-out arm in her great deliverance, for the bountiful provisions
he had made for all the occasions of her body and soul, and, in a word,
for all his blessings; holding all the powers of her spirit in tuneful em-
ployment, and exercising them in acts of love, gratitude, and adoration.
Her ladyship, sooner than was expected, was restored; and, with
every improvement that could be made, returned into the same tenor of
life which she had so long observed before, in some variety of employ-
ments indeed, but such as were calculated for the glory of God, and the
good of mankind. She saw what an excellent and serviceable hand-
maid learning was to religion, and upon that account was a great lover
of it. And indeed, she was far from being destitute of learning herself,
for she was able to compose and judge well, and could mark out the
beauties, excellencies, errors, and defects in authors, and whether they
were writen in taste, or not ; and as to practical divinity, and things
belonging to the direction of conscience, she rarely ever made an errone-
ous determination. Impressed with these sentiments, and possessed of
these talents, she thought provision made for the better state of learning, as
it is begun and carried on in schools, and further promoted and finished
in universities, was a right exercise of her attention and care, and a
proper object for her munificent donations. And how suitable and pro-
portioned to the magnificence of her spirit these were, may be found in
the codicil annexed to her will, containing the devise of her manor of
Wheldale to the provost and scholars of Queen’s College, Oxford, for
the educating students for the ministry.
In the weakly condition in which she now must be, it was very much
her employment, to provide that all her settlements should be secured
from abuses, and guarded against spoil and depredation, and that all
her good purposes might be followed with execution and effect. To this
end, with an indefatigable industry, she digested, improved, enlarged,
and altered several schemes, rules, orders, and provisions; and all this
very much from her own ability and wisdom.
But this care, this work and labour of love, to which she dedicated a
large share of her estate, and for many years a large stock of her health,
were shortly to be exchanged for tranquillity and rest. The distemper,
only repressed for a time, broke out with new malignity, to the much
greater affliction of thousands in the world, than of her that bore it; for
she had now been for some time in the school of affliction, had been
exercised with its sharpest discipline, and had found its salutary effects;
and, as she had lost one part of her body without being shaken or hurt,
so, she trusted in God that, if there was need, as in reality there was an
expectation, she might with safety lose another; and she knew that her
own sufferings were infinitely short of what her Saviour endured for her
on the cross, and that there was great probability that the last draught
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. I55
of her cup might not be so bitter as was the first. Under these views
and sentiments, her hope was full of immortality, and the eternak weight
of glory, now in full prospect, made all her afflictions light. Her faith
was not to be diverted from it, though her condition would not allow
her for several months, for obtaining any ease, to turn herself in her
bed; and therefore she would hold to her long-established purposes,
and strive to enter in at the strait gate, and excel every thing that was
past as much as she could, not looking back at the things that were be-
hind, but pressing forward to the things that were before. Though she
had little appetite to eat, she could find strength to pray; and, as the
author of her historical character verily believes, she suffered not any
one hour of the day to pass without prayer. But every other duty is to
be attended to as well as this; and doing good to the souls of others, was
ever the same with her doing good to her own. And because her family
mourned, and refused to be comforted, some of them perhaps having
less acquiescence in the Divine will than she had, she would therefore
be cheerful that they might cease to weep; and for a pattern for them,
when in like circumstances with hers, she made no complaints among
them which a mortal creature could suppress, and accepted all their
kindness and services with condescending acknowledgments, passing
by without observation any errors, mistakes, neglects, or inadvertencies,
into which any of them might fall.
In this near and certain approach of death, her cherishing warmth,
like that of the sun, though it might be most felt by those of her family,
yet reached those at greater distance. Witness the great number of
letters she wrote and dictated to others, when she became unable to write
herself, full of sweet counsel, having for their argument the blessedness
of piety, setting forth its true nature, and pressing home the necessity of
it. And witness also, the great resort to her house of persons of all condi-
tions, to behold the living power of religion in her, and to be partakers
of, and be benefited by her wisdom; whom she would instruct herself,
or engage those who had any talent that way to do, having them in
great numbers about her, and continuing in heavenly conversation and
conferences with them as long as she had strength to speak, and keep-
ing up her attention to others when her strength was gone. At other
seasons, she would seek out for, and draw to her, the company of holy
persons, refreshing and warming her spirit with them, as her great delight
was ever in them ; she and they mutually giving and receiving light,
heat, comfort, and strength from the words of the wise, and their divine
sayings; she and they at the same time having their spirits mingled and
holding mystical communion with all the saints upon earth, and in hea-
ven. Her alms all along, in the same series of days, under the great
and necessary expenses upon herself, under every other increase of ex-
pense, were still carried on with a like impetuous succession, as the
waves of a swelling tide. “Where,” would she often say to those about
her, “is there a poor member of Christ's, whom I can comfort and re-
fresh P Silver and gold were given to many who very rarely had seen
so much which they could call their own; and in this period, forty gui-
neas were issued in one sum for the enlargement of a gentleman who
was a prisoner for debt at Rothwell, though she had never seen him,
or heard any thing of him, except some few words of his case, and in his
favour, in all her life before.
156 MEMOIRS OF
Her ladyship was for several months separated from public worship,
of which she was a great lover, and to observe which she held herself
under sacred and inviolable obligations. So great and exemplary was
her-zeal in this respect, that she could not excuse herself from an atten-
dance at the house of God for having had a bad night, or for having
taken a little cold, or because the roads were deep, and there was some
danger that the coach would be overturned; but she ever continued to
go under great want of sleep, and great cold taken, and even under
afflictions worse than these, even after her coach had been overturned,
and after a part of her body was mouldering in the church-yard. But
now, impediments were thrown in her way,which she could not possibly
overcome. What must she do in this distress'ſ Her expedient was,
now she could not go to the church, to bring the church as far as she
could to herself. Accordingly, she had in this season the established ser-
vice, as formerly, daily read, and the holy sacrament administered to her
every Lord’s-day.
She was now in a very tottering state, though with less pain, or at
least less complaint, than ever could be thought of or rationally expected.
The skill of the reverend gentleman already mentioned, cannot be
praised according to his merit. Under God he kept her pains moderate,
and gave her relaxation and relief under every distress. But her firm-
est support was her faith in Christ, which fifty years ago being only
as a grain of mustard-seed, had now grown up into a spreading tree, and
she could refresh herself under its shadow. By the virtue of this grace
she had overcome the fears of death, and taken out its sting ; and nei-
ther the sight of death, nor the rigour of the law, could in the least
dismay her soul. She had walked by the rule the law of God had
set her; and, though she had not perfectly obeyed it, yet, her Re-
deemer had, and his righteousness was hers, and wrought for her ;
and he spoke peace to her spirit, and strengthened her with assurance
that, as he had long brought her up in his mature and admonition, and
was now putting his last hand for the finishing his own work, so the
gates of his kingdom were opened for her entrance into his joy. But
she knew she must wait his pleasure, and desired nothing but it ; though
it must not be omitted, that her ladyship had a willingness, consistent
enough with her full resignation to the Divine will, to travel still in the
wilderness, till such time as her durable charities were established by
law. Dr. Johnson, at once the physician of her body and her soul,
knew this, and directed all his skill for the continuance of her life,
till her benevolent wishes were accomplished : and, so indulgent
was the Almighty to her in this respect,that she survived the legal and
necessary time by seven or eight days; when, with triumph, she enter-
ed into the joy of her Lord.
We shall add to the above account of this most excellent lady, what
may be called its epitome, as it was published in the Gentleman’s Ma-
gazine for January, 1740, p. 36, in the list of deaths for the year 1740.
“December 22, 1739. The Honourable the Lady Elizabeth Hastings,
at her seat at Ledstone, Yorkshire, sister to George late Earl of Hunting-
don, and half-sister to Theophilus the present Earl. Though the
splendour of her birth was truly great, it seemed as it were eclipsed by
her shining qualities. She was amiable in her person, genteel in her
mien, polite in her manners, and agreeable in her conversation. Her
LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 157
Judgment was solid, her regard to friendship sacred, and her sense of
honour strict to the last degree ; and she was of so rare modesty and
humility, that a more disagreeable thing could not be done than publish-
ing her good deeds, and rendering her due praise. She was, above all,
a sincere Christian. Her piety towards God was ardent and unaffected,
and her benevolence towards mankind was such as the good angels are
blessed with. Thousands had she comforted and relieved, many en-
riched and advanced. Her patience and resignation under her last long
and tedious sickness, her mourning for the sins of men, her unwearied en-
deavours for their eternal welfare, her generous and charitable appoint-
ments, her tender expressions to her relations, friends, and servants, and
her grateful acknowledgments to her physicians, require whole pages to
set them in a proper light. In short, scarce any age has afforded a greater
blessing to many, or a brighter example to all. Her corpse was inter-
red with great funeral solemnity, in the family vault at Ledstone, near
her grandfather, Sir John Lewis, bart. ; the following inscription being
put upon her leaden coffin, &c. jº
The Right Hon. the Lady ELIZABETH HASTINGs,
Daughter of THEoPHILUs, Earl of HUNTINGDoN.
By ElizaBETH his first wife,
Daughter and co-heir of Sir John LEwis,
Knight and Baronet.
From whom descended to her the manors of
Ledstone, Ledsham, Thorparch, Collingham, Weldale,
Wyke, and Shadwell.
In the four first she erected chârity-schools,
And, for the support of them and other charities,
She gave, in her life-time, Collingham, Shadwell
And her estate in Burton-Salmon.
She was born the 19th of April, 1682.
Died the 22d of December, 1739.
A pattern to "...# ū ºſeS
Of all that's good, and all that's great.
M. R. S. J A N E R A T C LIFFE.
- \
MRs. JANE RATCLIFFE was born of good parents, of unblamable cha-
racters. Her uncle was Mr. Edward Brerewood, a learned professor in
Gresham College, London. In her younger years, she was too much
delighted with dancing, stage-plays, and other public vanities, according
to the fashion of young people, especially in those times when these
things were so well thought of that they were admitted to be acted in
the churches.* . But it pleased God effectually to call her to himself by
the ministry of Mr. Nicholas Byfield, a powerful preacher of the word
of God in the city of Chester; which was also seconded by the afflicting
hand of God, in taking away her first child; which providence she laid
..", to heart, while it was made the occasion of great good to her
SOUll. --
At her entrance upon religion, she feared God rather than loved him,
which engendered many perplexing scruples in her soul, which for the
present were very grievous to her. Her spirit was sore wounded, and
her inward distresses were so sharp and painful, and sometimes so terri-
ble, that it was difficult to fasten any comfort upon her. But, after the
Lord had thus chastened her, he showed himself her most kind and
effectual physician ; according to Job, v. 18, “He maketh sore, and bind-
eth up : He wounds, and his hands make whole;” for he quieted her
troubled spirit, and settled her in the assurance of his love. Being thus by
the Divine goodness converted and comforted, by her frequent and at-
tentive hearing of sermons, and reading good books, the Bible especially,
in which she took an incredible delight, and by moving questions to per-
sons whom she thought best able to answer them, she became an excel-
lent proficient in the great matters of religion, though she took not
upon her to extend her instructions beyond her own children and ser-
Vants.
It might be truly said of her, that the word of God dwelt richly in her
in all wisdom. She was well fitted and prepared either to counsel, or
comfort, to reprove, or to plead for, as there was occasion. Yet she was
by no means talkative, but rather sparing of her speech, so that she was
as much remarked for her silence as for her suitable discourse, when
there was a proper opportunity. So far was she, when she spoke, from
speaking ill, especially of the absent, and her superiors, that she rather
concerned herself to look to her own life, than to censure others. She
also gave the proofs of her prudence in the course of her behaviour. She
was a woman of a well-composed spirit, and of remarkable discretion,
* The acting of stage-plays in churches may appear almost incredible, but we have faith-
fully transcribed the passage as it stands in Mr. Clark's Lives, p. 377. “Certain it is that
in Charles the First's reign, the court had its balls, masquerades, and plays, on the Sunday
evenings, while the youth of the country were at their morrice-dancing, May-games, church
. flºº, and all such kinds of revellings.”—NEAL's History of the Puritans, quarto edit.
vol. 1. p. 569.
MRS. JANE RATCLIFFE. 159
directing her affairs by the dictates of grace and reason, without any de-
basing mixtures of passion, which usurped no sway over her, and very
seldom made any appearance in her, but when her wisdom suggested to
her that it was fit to make use of it for due admonition to others ; and
then she would temper her warmth with such moderation, as that neither
her words, nor looks, nor gestures, carried any colour of contradiction
to her prudence and piety. So that her wisdom was a protection to the
reputation of her godliness from all scornful reproaches, and raised the
Christian profession to a higher esteem in her person, and for her
sake.
Though she had eminent gifts, yet she was far from their disposi-
tion, who think they do nothing well unless they are singular; and,
though she had less to do with worldly affairs than most would have had in
her situation, yet, in the management of them, she gave that proof of pru-
dence which Solomon mentions, Prov. xiv. 1, “that a wise woman builds
her house.” For she was very provident in the management of her
family concerns, both while she was in the married state, and when she
became a widow.
Her devotion and piety were correspondent to her knowledge of God,
and faith in him. As she had a clear apprehension of God, so, none had
more inflamed and devout affections to him, as appeared in the following
particulars.
She was frequently and fervently conversant with God, not only in the
public ordinances, but in her private exercises of devotion ; and, though
she dulyesteemed the solemn prayers of the public assemblies, and never
slighted nor censured set forms of prayer, yet could she excellently well
conceive prayer, and vary her petitions as the present occasion required.
In this her devotion, she was so abundant in apt and pertinent expres-
sions, that indeed it was amatter of admiration, that one so frugal of her
speech in her common conversation with the world, should be so prompt
and eloquent in her intercourse with God. Nor was she more copious
in words, than fervent in spirit. Her service also to God in this kind,
was drenched in tears; and, though in prudence she used much privacy
in the duty of prayer, yet, the exercise of such a singular gift as she pos-
sessed could not be concealed from her servants, and some secret female
friends, who sometimes, when they were sick, or harassed with fears, or
in the pains of childbirth, would prevail upon her by their importunity
to pray with them ; and when she yielded to them, and God seemed to
yield to her by answering her request, they were apt, as there was rea-
son, to ascribe the good effects to her fervent entreaties. A female friend
of hers, who lay in the same bed with her in London for many weeks
together, and was by this means a partaker with her in her daily devo-
tions, professed that she was so plentifully furnished for utterance of her
requests to God, that she never wanted variety of suitable words to be
presented to him, except when a surcharge of sighs and tears put her
prayers to a pause:
When the heart is full of love, the mouth is filled with praise. Of
this we have an example in this excellent gentlewoman, who when time,
company, and occasion invited her to communicate to others the good
matter which her heart indited concerning God, employed her tongue as
the pen of a ready writer. And it was observable, that, when she had
the great King for the subject of her discourse, she spake of him with
160 MEMOIRS OF
such sacred reverence and delight, and with such an affectionate force,
as if she would enkindle the same holy fire in the hearts of those who
heard her, which burned in her own ; longing that others might, with her,
taste and see the goodness of the Lord, and that they might be rivals
with her in her religious love. And glad she was when any sinner was
converted, or when any already called was better enabled to promote
the glory of God, the end which she principally aimed at in her holy dis-
courses concerning him. In giving vent to her heart in this duty of spiritual
conference, she could spend her spirit with great delight, both to herself
and to those particular friends who had an opportunity to hear her ; and
yet, when she had spoken best, she found matter of complaint in her
own expressions, as being too faint and too flat, and so far below what
was meet for the majesty of the great Jehovah, that all the acceptance
she desired of him was but to pardon her presumption, as the error of her
love, for taking upon her to speak of his exceellency, and the weakness
of her spirit and speech, which made her fall infinitely short of what is
his due in the publication of his praise.
Another evidence of her eminent love to God was, the eminent love
which for his sake she bore to whom or whatsoever stood in any near
relation to him. She had a sincere and singular good-will to his saints,
and to his true religion and worship, both at home and abroad, the pro-
gress and prosperity of which she perferred above her chief joy; and it
was a great affliction to her heart, when she heard any ill tidings of any
good man, or any good cause.
She highly prized the word of God; and in the blessed sacrament of
the Lord’s Supper she felt such a divine refreshment, that she might
truly say, that she had meat to eat which others knew nothing of. If,
by any insuperable impediment, she was kept back from the public wor-
ship, her soul was full of the most ſervent longings to be there. And,
whereas many from a very slight occasion absent themselves from the
sanctuary, she would often force her feeble body to carry her to the
house of God, though the day before she had been confined to her
chamber, or even to her bed; and it was remarkable, though in these cases
she hazarded her health, yet, that it pleased God so graciously to ac-
cept of her zeal for his service, that she never was the worse for these
pious adventures.
She kept at a great distance from doting upon the world; and though,
while she lived, she must of necessity be in it, yet, she had such an
overcoming love to the Lord Jesus Christ, that for his sake she estran-
ged herself from it, as appeared by her abstaining from the delights of
sense, by her frequent fastings, and by her abstinence from such sports
and pastimes as she had been too immoderately addicted to before her
conversion. Indeed, her love to, and delight in communion with God,
set her above provision for gratifying the flesh. She well knew that,
though fasting makes the body weak, yet, that it strengthens the spi-
rit, and makes it vigorous and victorious in spiritual conflicts. Fasting
and prayer she used, not only as weapons against Satan, but as wings to
elevate her soul towards God and heaven. Yet, she was at the same
time observant of our Savour’s rule, to fast without any appearance of
fasting. . Only, the next day, it might be discerned by her faintness,
that she had spent her spirits in spiritual exercises the day before.
She had so chosen God for her portion, and taken up her happiness
MRS. JANE RATCLIFFE. 161
in the riches of his love, that she had but little regard to worldly wealth
and possessions. She well knew that riches may be had, and be well
used, by the people of God, and that poverty alone commends no man
to God; but yet, she did not dote upon them. Though she was care-
ful and frugal, and was provident for herself and household, yet, she of
ten besought of the Lord rather to make and keep her poor, than to suffer
her heart to sink down from her Maker, and go astray after Mammon.
It might be truly said of her, that she honoured God with her sub-
stance. She was as cheerful in her exhibitions for Him, as any miser
could be in laying up stores for himself; and when she heard of the
parsimony of some towards the maintenance of the public ministry in the
city of Chester, where she lived, she professed that she had rather be at
all the charge of all the common contributions herself, if her estate
could bear it, than that God should be murmured at, or his service poor-
ly prized, or the wages of his work unwillingly paid.
Another undoubted testimony of her true love to God, was her desire
to die, out of a fervent affection to him, so that she feared a long life
would keep her too long from the fruition of him. Death, which
worldlings are most afraid of, she so much wished, that her friends
pleaded with her to be pleased with life ; though she, not being satis-
fied with their arguments, contended against them by contrary reasons.
She had in readiness some special considerations to be remembered at
the time of her departure, which she left under her own hand, and which
are as follow, under the two articles, “Why she desired to die,” and,
“Why she did not fear death.”
First, Why I desire to die.
“I desire to die, because I want, while I live here, the glorious presence
of God, which I love and long for, and the sweet fellowship of angels
and saints, who would be as glad of me, as I of them, and would enter-
tain me with unwearied delight.
“I desire to die, because, while I live, I shall want the perfection of
my nature, and be as an estranged, banished person from my father’s
house.
“I desire to die, because I would not live to offend so good a God,
and grieve his Holy Spirit; for his loving-kindness is better than life it-
self, and he is abundant in mercy to me, and it many times lies as a heavy
load upon my heart to think of displeasing him.
“I desire to die, because this world is generally infected with the
plague of sin, and some have this plague sore running upon them, and
I myself am tainted with the same disease ; so that, while I live here, I
can be in no place, nor in any company, but I am still in danger of be-
ing infected, or of infecting others. And if this world hates me be-
cause I endeavour to follow goodness, how will it rejoice if my foot do but
slip ! And how woful would my life be to me, if I should give occasion
for the world to triumph or blaspheme on my account! I cannot choosebut
desire to die, when I consider that sin, like a leprosy, hath so corrupted me,
that there is no soundness in me; my mind, my memory, my will, and
my affections, yea, my conscience, are still impure. In every faculty of
my soul there is a miserable mixture of vile infection, which makes me
weary of my life. And all this is the worse because it is incurable, and
a constant companion of my life, so that I can go no whither to avoid it.
21
I62 MEMOIRS OF
There is no business that I can despatch, that concerns my happiness,
but there is a mutiny in my heart. Though the works of God be all
fair, yet, there are in my nature many defects, insufficiencies, mistakes,
and transgressions, so that I may say, ‘ Innumerable evils have com-
passed me about; mine iniquities have taken hold upon me, so that I
am not able to look up.’ I therefore desire heaven for holiness, rather
than for happiness, that I might sin no more I desire that condition in
which I may most glorify God.
“I desire to die, because of the devil’s malignant and perpetual as-
saults. I can stand no where before the Lord on earth, but one devil or
another is at my right hand; and I must of necessity enter into conflict
with them and their temptations, and be buffeted and gored by them,
which is a thousand-fold worse than death. It is more easy to wrestle
with flesh and blood, than with principalities and powers, with spiritual
wickedness, and the rulers of the darkness of this world; for they are
subtle and cruel, and, like roaring lions, they go about seeking whom
they may devour.
“I desire to die, because by death I shall rest from the hard labours
of this life.
“I desire to die, because nothing in this world can give me solid and
durable contentment. I am less in liking of life, and have the greater
desire of death, when I consider the misery that may come both on my
body and estate. Fearful alterations may come, wars may come, and
all the desolations and terrors which accompany them, and I may be
left in the hands of the sons of violence. Besides, I daily suffer the loss of
my friends, who were the companions of my life, and the channels of
much pleasure to me; and those whom I lose by my life, I shall find by
my death, and enjoy in another world to all eternity. As for my leaving
my children, it doth not much trouble me, for that God who hath given
them life and breath and all they have, while I am living, can without
me provide for them when I am dead. My God will be their God if
they are His ; and if they are not, what comfort would it be for me to
live My life would be exceeding bitter to me, iſ I should see them dis-
honour God, whom I so much love.”
When she enjoyed the greatest measure of temporal or spiritual com-
fort, she would never say, ‘Master, it is good for us to be here;’ but
making her enjoyments as a step for an higher ascent, she rather in-
ferred, it is good to go hence. . For, if on earth there be so much good,
how pleasant and desirable is heaven The joys on earth, in compari-
son with the joys above, are but as the earth is to heaven, little and
low, dark and heavy.
Such were the reasons why this excellent gentlewoman desired to die.
The reasons why she did not fear death, were as follow :- ^y
“I fear not death, because it is but the separation of the body from
the soul; and that is but a shadow of the body of death, (Romans,
vii. 24;) whereas the separation of the soul from God by sin, (Isa. lix.
2,) and of soul and body for sin, is death indeed.
“I fear not death, because death is such an enemy as hath been often
vanquished, and because I am armed for it, and the weapons of my
warfare are mighty through God, and I am assured of victory.
“I do not fear death for the pain of it, for I am persuaded I have en-
dured as great pains in life as I shall find in death, and death will be
*
MRS. JANE RATCLIFFE. 163
the cure of all my pains—and because Christ died a terrible and curs-
ed death, any kind of death may be blessed to me—and because that
God who hath greatly loved me in life, will not neglect me in death, but
his Spirit will strengthen and comfort me all the time of the combat.
“I do not fear death for any loss, for I shall only lose my body by
it, and that is but a prison to my soul, or an old rotten house, or tattered
garment. Nay, I shall not lose that neither, for I shall have it restor-
ed at my Saviour's second coming, much better than now it is, for this
vile body shall be like the body of Christ, and by death I shall obtain a
far better life.”
These were the reasons, (how strong and conclusive, let the pious
reader judge,) why this good gentlewoman was not afraid of death.
As an incentive to divine love, she prepared a breviat of God’s prin-
cipal benefits to herself, for meditation upon her death-bed, and as the
matter of thanksgivings to him, which runs as follows:—
“How shall I praise God! 1. For my conversion. 2. For his word,
both in my affections to it, and the wonderful comforts I have received
by it. 3. For hearing my prayers. 4. For godly sorrow. 5. For fellowship
with the godly. 6. For joy in the Holy Ghost. 7. For the desire of
death. 8. For contempt of the world. 9. For private helps and comforts.
10. For giving me some strength against my sin. 11. For preserving
me from gross evils both before and after my calling, &c.”
This excellent person discovered her holy love to God by conforming
her practice to his commandments, according to the directions of her
Lord, John, xiv. 15. “If ye love me, keep my commandments.” She
thought nothing too much to do or to abstain from, if God enjoined it,
or if God forbade it. She judged nothing so small, but his word was
able to give it weight enough to bow her soul to the obedience of it. If
it was a greater matter which he required of her, she considered that he
was a God both infinitely great and good, and that he was so to her,
who had done, and would do for her ten thousand times more and great-
er things than she could do for him. If it was a little thing which
God required of her, she apprehended that the contempt or neglect of it
would aggravate her guilt : as Naaman’s servants said to their master,”
“If the prophet had bidden thee do some great matter, wouldest thou
not have done it ! How much rather when he saith unto thee, Wash
and be clean ſ” The less the duty is, the greater the disobedience if we
do it not; for thereby we contemn the authority of the Almighty; and
such as slight it in a little thing, will not regard it in a greater. She
was therefore very careful and accurate in every article of duty which
God called her to perform. By these means she made further advances
in holiness and sanctification, and preserved a greater distance from
great offences. For he who is afraid of a small sin, will not easily grow
bold to commit a great one. Her love to God was strong as death, and,
indeed, much stronger, so that death could not dismay her, for she de-
sired daily to look death in the face; nor could he hurt her more than
what she was contented to endure; for, though it was not likely that
she should pass through the narrow straits of death without some toss-
ings and difficulties, yet, she was well satisfied to venture into them, as
they were the ready passage to come to God, whom she so much long-
ed to enjoy.
*2 Kings, v. 13.
164 MEMOIRS OF
Such was the excellent spirit that dwelt in her, that she was very
tender of the absent, towards whom she would not suffer either her
tongue or her ears to be guilty of any wrong, or robbery of their reputa-
tions. She never disclosed their secret sins, or aggravated those that
were known. She never denied, dissembled, or diminished the virtues
or good parts of any. Though her hatred of sin was such as became a
sincere Christian, yet, she knew how to distinguish between sin and the
sinner; and setting a severe dislike on the one, she made a reserve of
love and compassion for the other.
Her charity was regulated by the directions of Scripture, which she
set down in a paper, with quotations of texts for her guidance in four
particulars: 1. I must give readily; Job, xxxi. 16. Prov. iii. 28. 1 Tim.
vi. 18. 2. I must give secretly ; Matt. vi. 3. 3. I must give liberally;
2 Cor. viii. 12, and ix. 6. And, 4. I most give cheerfully ; 2 Cor. viii.
12.” She distributed her charity also according to her own ability, and
others’ necessities. She preferred giving a little to many, as the num-
ber of the indigent is very great, before giving a great deal to a few ;
and she so ordered her charity, as to be still able to communicate; and
did not as some, who give so much, that aſter a while they can give no
more. Upon extraordinary occasions, if she was not magnificent in her
donations, the obstacle lay not in her mind, but in her circumstances.
Her charity was vigorous; and so cordial, that what she gave was
always without grudging. She was so cheerful in the distribution of
her bounty, that she bestowed nothing upon herself with more alacrity
than she did upon others, whether it were for the support of the ministry,
or for the relief of the poor. And yet, in all this, she followed the rule
of her Lord, not to let her left hand know what her right hand did ; for
she was many times as close in giving what was her own, as a thief
would be in stealing from others; so that none did more good deeds
with less show or sound than she. As to the objects of her charity, she
did good to all, but “especially to the household of faith.” She in-
deed shut up her munificence from none who had need of it, but she
chiefly enlarged it to the faithful in Christ Jesus.
Her affection and benevolence were very great and entire to her
friends; but yet, not so confined to them, but that she reserved a large
measure for them who dealt unfriendly with her, or that were enemies to
her. If there was any unkind difference between herself and any other,
though she enjoyed the freedom of her judgment to think as there was
reason, yet she would not suffer her affections to be estranged from
them, but was ready to do them good as opportunity offered. She return-
ed love for hatred, compassion for spite, and friendly offices for offensive
treatment. She hated nothing but sin, and that she hated in all, and
most of all in her own soul.
As her charity was evidenced by doing, so, it also appeared by suffer-
ing. If any troubles lay upon others, or were hanging over them, she
'was of the same mind with her Lord and Master, according to that of
the prophet Isaiah, lxiii. 9, “In all their afflictions he was afflicted.”
She tenderly sympathized in the sufferings of her fellow-members. If it
went ill with the church, or any particular saints, it was no better with
her., Charity made her suffer as much by inward affection, as they did
of their enemies by outward affliction.
Her patience also was very eminent. Though her apprehensions
MRS. JANE RATCLIFFE. 165
were quick enough to conceive any thing tending to the disturbance of
peace and patience, yet, she enjoyed such a serenity of spirit as could
hardly ever give way to a storm. If any were injurious to her, her
tongue could more readily pray, and her eyes weep for them, than her
looks or words express indignation or disdain. If news came to her
of any losses in her estate, as sometimes there did of great ones, yet,
she was never put out of temper with these ill tidings, having these con-
siderations ready at hand to compose her spirit. “It is that God who
gave all, who now takes away some ; why should I take it ill '! He
would not have me be in love with and trust in uncertain riches, which
were never true to any who trusted them, but to trust upon Himself;
and I willingly renounce them, to rest upon Him. He can, if He see
it good, recompense the loss in the like, or some better kind. If He
takes more from me, there will yet be many poorer than myself; and if
He takes away all my goods, He can give me contentment without
them. For He is all-sufficient, and so, though I have nothing, yet I
may be as possessing all things; 2 Cor. vi. 10. The world and I must
part; and whether we be loosened from each other by degrees, or torn
asunder all at once, all is one to me. What God chooses, is best for both
of us, for His glory and my good, if I murmur not against Him, but
willingly, as is my prayer, give way to His will.
Her patience, both in its truth and strength, was exceedingly tried
by her bodily sufferings. In the births of some of her children, she had
long, painful, and very perilous labours. But the affliction that was
beyond all, was a lingering and heavy sickness, to which were applied
very sharp and irksome medicines, so that she endured not only the an-
guish of her disease, but with the woman in the gospel, (Mark, v. 26,)
suffered many things also of the physicians. But her distemper was not
only painful, but accompanied also with an uncommon deformity. Her
lower jaw being fallen, she could not bring it up towards her upper one.
Her mouth was distorted, and drawn awry towards her ear, so that, not
without much difficulty both to herself and others, her food was con-
veyed through so oblique a passage to her throat; which might have
been the more afflicting to her, as the disorder was the wreck of great
beauty and comeliness, which till now were seated in her countenance,
and of which she preserved the traces to her dying day. However,
under this sharp, complicated trial, she showed a truly admirable patience,
and her heart was brought meekly to submit to it, and she declared,
“That, if it pleased the Lord to continue her a spectacle of deformed
misery, she would not repine at what he did, or what she suffered, but
would willingly abide it, till he freed her body from her disease by
her return to health, or dismissed her soul from her body by death.”
The modesty of this excellent gentlewoman was very remarkable;
and it may be said of this virtue in her, that it was rather sometimes too
much, than at any time too little. It discovered itself, 1. In her looks.
Her countenance was habitually composed to a becoming gravity, so that
it carried in it a severe rebuke upon every unseemly word or action. If
any were so immodest as to speak or do any thing before her not becom-
ing Christianity, her modesty made some supply for their want, and
she would blush for them. 2. Her modesty manifested itself in her
speech. Whereas some would have boasted themselves, or made
some vainglorious ostentation of such abilities as she possessed, she rather
166 MEMOIRS OF
threw a veil over her own endowments. When she was a teacher, she
behaved herself like a learner, rather asking questions, than making
resolutions, or giving rules and directions to them. 3. She gave a testi-
mony of her modesty by her silence. Her motion, her habit, and her
whole behaviour, was a lecture of modesty, which, attended with her
other virtues, wrought a kind of awfulness in her person; so that they
who had not the grace to do well in private, were more afraid and
ashamed of an appearance of evil in her presence than in the sight of
many a magistrate.
As for humility, that twin-sister of modesty, she made great account
of it. She studied it seriously, and was so great a proficient in it, that
there was no occasion for any art to make profession or ostentation of it.
Solomon makes contention to be the author of pride, Prov. xiii. 10.
Peaceableness, then, is the daughter of humility; and if so, the humility
of this worthy person eminently showed itself, in that she could endure
contradictions, reproaches, &c. without a quarrel or breach of peace with
any, being still ready to deny herself, and to yield to others as far as
she could with a safe conscience.
She was a most respectful and obedient wife. This she evinced in
her behaviour; and she had such a sense of her duty to her husband,
that among her papers were found some special directions which she
had drawn up for her affection and conduct towards him, which were as
follow, under the title,
* Duties which concern me in particular.
“I must submit myself to my husband as to the Lord, Eph. v. 22.
“I must account him my head, Eph. v. 23.
“I must be in subjection to him in all things, as the Church unto
Christ, Eph. v. 24.
“I must walk pleasingly towards him, 1 Cor. vii. 34.” e
Her humility was most amiably evidenced in her not undervaluing
or envying the gifts of God in others. In lowliness of mind, she es-
teemed others better than herself. She disavowed her own praise,
though those that gave it her thought it much less than her due ; and
she advanced others far beyond herself, though they were far below her.
The source of all this was, her exact inquiries into her own life, and the
severe censures she passed upon her own imperfections and failings;
while, as to others, she observed them most for what was best in them,
and in order to improve herself in holiness by imitating what was ex-
cellent in them, and to increase her humility for that in which she fell
short of them. She often presented and arraigned herself before God’s
tribunal, to bring herself down in abasement as guilty before Him, im-
ploring pardon on her knees at His hands, and she sank the lower be-
fore Him by comparing her own faultiness, infirmity, and wretchedness,
with His infinite purity, power, and majesty. These exercises of soul
made her think of Him with admiration and love, and of herself with
detestation and loathing.
She always held it for a maxim with her, “that, if it be good to be
esteemed virtuous, (and most desire to be so esteemed,) it is much bet-
ter to be so indeed; for that the substance of a good thing is always to
be preferred before the semblance of it.” Hence she was so sincere in
her whole course of life, that she hated the least appearance of hypo-
MRS. JANE RATCLIFFE. I67
crisy. It was observable in her, that she made her deeds of charity and
benevolence always better than her words, of which she was so sparing,
that some blamed her for want of affability; which being objected to
her, she said: “That she liked not the lavish language of some who
had their mouths full of complimental courtesy to every one, though
their hearts are shut and contracted.” She used to let her friends see
and feel her love by her works, rather than to hear it by her words.
Her constancy also in religion was very remarkable. Her faith was
grounded and settled, so that she was not carried away with every wind
of doctrine. What she was for faith and godliness at her first conver-
sion, the same she was afterwards, at all places, at all times, and in all
companies. But, for the measure of grace and holiness, she was like a
growing plant in a garden. By spiritual nourishment and daily exer-
cise of her graces, she advanced apace towards the stature of Christ.
Her path was indeed the path of the just, shining more and more unto
a perfect day. She was best at last, like wines on the lees well refined;
and was most heavenly-minded when she had the least time to continue
in our world.
To sum up her character, . She was an obedient wife, a careful and
tender mother, a gentle and beneficent mistress, a good and charitable
neighbour, and a true and constant friend.
Towards her latter end, she fell into some bodily distempers, in which
she had fits, which, by a gradual failure of her spirits, left her at last
unable to speak or move, yet, without any great alteration in her coun-
tenance. The fits were short, but not sharp, for she felt no pain; but
when she returned to herself she was commonly more feeble than before.
During her sickness, she had the free use of her faculties, and her desires
were strong for a speedy dissolution; so that she adopted the requests
of David, Psalm xxxviii. 22, “Make haste to help me, O Lord of my
salvation P’ and Psalm xl. 13, Be pleased, O Lord, to deliver me; O
Lord, make haste to help me!” At length, the hour came, when her
desires were to be granted in the very kifid she wished, by the gate of
death to pass to the Author of life; which she did in such a calm
manner, that, when she was thought to be asleep, she was found to be
dead, August 17, 1638.
e’
L. A D Y R A C H A E L R U S S E L L.
LADY RAcHAEL WRIoTHESLEY was born about the year 1636, and was
the daughter of Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, by his first
wife, Rachael, daughter of Henry de Massey, Baron of Ruvigny, and
sister to the Marquis of Ruvigny, father of Henry, Earl of Galway.
She was married first to Francis, Lord Vaughan, eldest son of Richard,
Earl of Carberry, and afterwards, about the 1669, to William, Lord
Russell, son of William, Earl of Bedford, by whom she had one son and
two daughters. Lady Rachael, the eldest, was married to William, Lord
Cavendish, afterwards Duke of Devonshire; and the Lady Catherine,
the youngest, to John Manners, Lord Roos, afterwards Duke of Rut-
land. Wriothesley, the son, married, in May 1695, Elizabeth, only
daughter and heir of John Howland, Esquire, and was, immediately
after his marriage, created Baron Howland of Streatham. He suc-
ceeded his grandfather in 1700, as Duke of Bedford, and died of the
small-pox, May 26, 1711, in the thirty-first year of his age. By his
lady he had three sons and two daughters. t
It is an event which can never be forgotten, that the husband of this
lady, William, Lord Russell, was beheaded July 21, 1683. How wor-
thy a man he was, how true a friend to the liberties of his country,
how undeserving of his bitter treatment, and with what an invincible
fortitude he met his cruel doom, the Introduction to the Letters of Lady
Rachael Russell, his widow, particularly shows ; and to that we refer
our readers.” As our concern is only with his relict, we shall turn our
thoughts entirely to her.
We are not furnished with any considerable materials for our memoirs
of her before the dismal period of her illustrious husband’s sufferings.
At this juncture, she conducted herself with a mixture of the most tender
affection and the most surprising magnanimity. She appeared in
court at the trial of her husband; and when the Attorney-General told
him, “he might use the hands of one of his servants in waiting to take
notes of the evidence for his use;” Lord Russell answered, “that he
asked none, but that of the lady that sat by him.” The spectators at
these words turning their eyes, and beholding the daughter of the vir-
tuous Southampton rising up to assist her lord in this his utmost distress,
a thrill of anguish ran through the assembly. After his condemnation,
she threw herself at the King's feet, and pleaded, but, alas ! in vain,
with his majesty, the merits and loyalty of her father, t in order to save
* Letters of Lady Rachael Russell, from the Manuscript in the Library at Wooburn-Ab-
bey; to which is prefixed an Introduction, vindicating the Character of Lord Russell against
Sir John Dalrymple, &c. Third Edit. printed 1774.
* “The Earl of Southampton,” says Clarendon, “was a great man in all respects, and
brought very much reputation to King Charles the First his cause. He went to the King to
York, was most solicitous for the offer of peace at Nottingham, was with him at Edge-Hill,
and came and stayed with him at Oxford to the end of the war.” Burnet calls him, “a man
LADY RACHAEL RUSSELL. 169
her husband. And without a sigh or a tear, she took her last farewell
of him ; when it might have been expected, as they were so perfectly
happy in each other, and no wife could possibly surpass her in affection to
a husband, that the torrent of her distress would have overflowed its
banks, and been too mighty for all the powers of reason and religion to
have restrained it. Indeed, the affection of Lord Russell and his lady to
each other, and their behaviour in the season of their extremity of distress,
were very remarkable, and well deserve a particular mention. On the
Tuesday before Lord Russell’s execution,” after dinner, when his lady
was gone, he expressed great joy in the magnanimity of spirit he saw
in her, and declared, “the parting with her was the greatest thing he
had to do; for,” he said, “she would be hardly able to bear it ; the con-
cern about preserving him filled her mind so now, that it in some mea-
sure supported her, but, when that would be over, he feared the quick-
ness of her spirits would work all within her.” On Thursday, while
his lady was gone to try to gain a respite till Monday, he said, “He
wished she would give over beating every bush, and running so about
for his preservation ; but when he considered, that it would be some
mitigation of her sorrow that she left nothing undonéthat could have
given any probable hope, he acquiesced.” Indeed, his heart was never
seen so near failing him as when he spake of her. Sometimes a tear
would be seen in his eye, and he would turn about, and presently change
the discourse. The evening before his death, he suffered his children,
who were very young, and some of his friends, to take leave of him;
in which interview he preserved his constancy of temper, though he
was a very fond parent. He parted with his lady at the same time
with a composed silence; and she had such a command of herself, that
when she was gone, he said, “the bitterness of death was past,” for he
loved and esteemed her beyond expression. He ran out into a long
discourse concerning her, declaring “how great a blessing she had been
to him, and what a misery it would have been to him if she had not
had that magnanimity of spirit joined to her tenderness, as never to have
desired him to do a base thing for the saving his life.” He added,
“there was a signal providence of God in giving him such a wife, where
there were birth, fortune, great understanding, great religion eat
kindness to himself; but her carriage,” said he, “in my extremity, was
beyond all. He was glad that she and his children were to lose no-
thing by his death; and it was a great comfort to him that he left his
children in such a mother’s hands, and that she had promised him to
take care of herself for their sakes.” As to Lady Russell, she bore the
shock of his death with the same magnanimity she had shown at
her lord’s trial. When, in open court, attending at her lord's side, §he
was taking notes, and making observations of all that passed on his
behalf, and when prostrate at the King’s feet, and pleading with his

of great virtue and good parts, of a lively imagination and sound judgment, who had merited
much by his constant adherence to the ; interest during the war, and the large remit-
tances he made him in his exile; and styles him a fast friend to the public—the wise and vire
tuous Earl of Southampton—who deserved every thing the King could give him.”—“The
King,” says Oldmixon, “saw the virtuous and lovely Lady Russell weeping at his feet, im-
ploring but a short reprieve for her condemned lord, with dry eyes and a stony heart, though
she was the daughter of the Earl of Southampton, the best friend he ever had in his life.”-
See the Introduction to Lady Russell’s Letters.
* See the Introduction to Lady Russell’s Letters.
22
170 MEMOIRS OF
majesty in remembrance of her deceased father's services, in order to
save her husband, she was a spectacle of the most lively compassion;
but now, when without sigh or tear, she took her last farewell of him,
she was an object of the highest admiration.*
After this most distressing event, the death of her lord upon the scaf-
fold, this excellent lady, though encompassed round with the darkest
clouds of affliction, seemed to be absorbed in a religious concern to be-
have herself aright towards her God under his mighty hand, and to
fulfil the duties now devolved upon herself alone, in the care, education,
disposal, and happiness of her children ; those living remains of her
lord, and which had been so dear to him, and were for his sake, as well
as her own, so dear to herself.
In proof of this pious and maternal spirit, which animated her ladyship
during the residue of her days, the following selections from her pub-
lished Letters are laid before our readers.
ExTRActs FROM THE LETTERS of LADY RACHAEL RUssFL.L. ,
'# Lady Russell to Doctor Fitzwilliam.f
§§§
I need not teſ you, good doctor, how little capable I am of such exer-
cise as this.f You will soon find how unfit I am still for it, since my yet
disordered thoughts can offer me no other than such words as express
the deepest sorrows, and confused as my yet amazed mind is. But
such men as you, and particularly one so much my friend, will, I know,
bear with my weakness, and compassionate my distress, as you have
already done by your good letter, and excellent prayer. I endeavour to
make the best use I can of both ; but I am so evil and unworthy a crea-
ture, that, though I have desires, yet I have no dispositions or worthi-
ness towards receiving comfort. You, that knew us both, and how we
lived, must allow I have just cause to bewail my loss. I know it is
common with others to lose a friend; but, to have lived with such an
one, it may be questioned how few can glory in the like happiness, so
consequently lament the like loss. Who can but shrink at such a blow;
till, by the mighty aid of his Holy Spirit, we let the gift of God, which
heºhath put into our hearts, interpose ? That reason which sets a mea-
sure to our souls in prosperity, will then suggest many things which we
have seen and heard, to moderate us in such sad circumstances as mine.
But, alas ! my understanding is clouded, my faith weak, sense strong,
and the devil busy to fill my thoughts with false notions, difficulties, and
doubts : but this I hope to make matter of humiliation, not sin. Lord,
let me understand the reason of these dark and wounding providences,
that I sink not under the discouragement of my own thoughts! I know
I have deserved my punishment, and will be silent under it; but yet se-
* “There was something,” she says, in a letter to Bishop Burnet, in 1690, “so glorious in
the object of my greatest sorrow, I believe that in some degree kept me from being over-
whelmed.”
f.A divine for whom Lady Russell had a great esteem and friendship. He had been
chaplain to her father, as he was afterwards to the Duke of York, was Rector of Cottenham,
in Cambridgeshire, and Canon of Windsor, which preferments he lost after the Revolution,
upon refusal of the oaths. He died in or about the year 1696, having appointed all the Let.
ters which Lady Russell wrote to him to be returned to her Ladyship, that they might be
º ; but many of them, says the Editor of her Letters, do not appear—See her Letters,
p: 307.
f Lord Russell, her husband, was beheaded July 21, 1683.
LADY RACHAEL RUSSELL. 171
cretly my heart mourns, too sadly I fear, and cannot be comforted, because
I have not the dear companion and sharer of all my joys and sorrows.
I want him to talk with, to walk with, to eat and sleep with. All these
things are irksome to me now; the day unwelcome, and the night so too.
All company and meals I would avoid, if it might be ; yet, all this is that
I enjoy not the world in my own way, and this sure hinders my comfort.
When I see my children before me, I remember the pleasure he took in
them. This makes my heart shrink. Can I regret his quitting a lesser
good for a bigger ? O ! if I did steadfastly believe, I could not be deject-
ed; for I will not injure myself to say I offer my mind any inferior con-
solation to supply this loss. No, I most willingly forsake this world,
this vexatious, troublesome world, in which I have no other business but
to rid my soul from sin, secure my eternal interests, with patience and
courage bear my eminent misfortunes, and ever hereafter be above the
smiles and frowns of it : and, when I have done the remnant of the work
appointed me on earth, then joyfully wait for the heavenly perfection
in God’s good time, when by his infinite mercy I may be accounted
worthy to enter into the same place of rest and repose where he is gone,
for whom only I grieve. From that contemplation must come my best
support. Good doctor, you will think, as you have reason, that I set no
bounds, when I let myself loose to my complaints; but I will release you,
first fervently asking the continuance of your prayers for your infinitely
afflicted, but very faithful servant, R. R.UssFLL.
Wooburn-Abbey, September 30, 1683,
Lady Russell to Doctor Fitzwilliam.
It is above a fortnight, I believe, good doctor, since I received your
comforting letter, and it is displeasing to me that I am but now sitting
down to tell you so ; but it is allotted to persons under my dismal title,
and yet more dismal circumstances, to have additional cares, from which
I am sure I am not exempt, but am very unfit to discharge well or wisely,
especially under the oppressions I feel : however it is my lot, and a part
of duty remaining to my choicest friend, and those pledges he has left
me. That remembrance makes me do my best, and so occasions the
putting by such employments as suit better my present temper of mind,
as this I am now about ; since, if, in the multitude of these sorrows that
possess my soul, I find any refreshments, (though, alas ! such as are but
momentary,) it is but casting off some of my crowded thoughts to com-
passionate friends, such as deny not to weep with those that weep, or in
reading such discourses and advices as your letter supplies me with ;
which I hope you will believe I have read more than once, and if I have
more days to pass upon this earth, I mean to do so often, since I profess,
of all those that have been offered me in which charity has been most
abounding to me,” none have in all particulars more suited my humour.
*That eminently great and good man, the Reverend John Howe, wrote a most excellent
letter to her *...; in this season of her distress, which well deserves in the whole of it a
lace in our work, but it is too long for insertion. However, some passages we shall take
eave to select, which are as follow :-‘‘The cause of your sorrow, madam, is exceedin
great. The causes of your joy are inexpressibly greater... You have infinitely more le
than you have lost Doth it need to be disputed whether God be better and greater than man?'.
or more to be valued, loved, and delighted in 7 and whether an eternal relation be more con-
siderable than a temporary one? Was it not your constant sense in your best outward state,
172* MEMOIRS OF
You deal with me, sir, just as I would be dealt withal; and it is possible
I feel the more smart from my raging griefs, because I would not take
them off but upon fit considerations, as it is easiest to our natures to
have our sore in deep wounds gently handled, yet, as most profitable, I
would yield, may desire to have mine searched, that, as you religiously
design by it, they may not fester. It is possible I grasp at too much of
this kind for a spirit so broken by affliction, for I am so jealous that
time, or necessity, the ordinary abater of all violent passions, may even
employment, or company of such friends as I have left, should do that
my reason or religion ought to do, as makes me covet the best advices,and
use all methods to obtain such a relief, as I can ever hope for ; a silent
submission to this severe and terrible providence, without any ineffective
Whom have I in heaven but thee, O God and whom can I desire on earth in comparison
of thee?” Psalm lxxiii. 25. Herein the state of your Ladyship's case is still the same, if
you cannot rather with greater clearness, and with less hesitation, pronounce these latter
words. The principal causes of your joy are immutable, such as no supervening thing can
alter. You have lost a most pleasant, delectable, earthly relative. Doth the blessed God
hereby cease to be the best and most excellent good? Is his nature changed? his ºf
covenant reversed, and annulled, ‘which is ordered in all things, and sure, and is to be al
your salvation, and all your desire, whether he make your house on earth to grow, or not to
grow 2° 2 Sam. xxiii. 5. That sorrow which exceeds the proportion of its cause, compared
with the remaining and real causes of rejoicing, is in that excess causeless, i. e. that excess
of it wants a cause, such as can justify or afford defence unto it.
“Again, we ought to consider in every case principally that which is principal, God did
not create this or that excellent person, and place him for a while in the world principally to
please us ; nor doth he therefore take him away principally to displease or punish us, but
for much nobler and greater ends, which he hath proposed to himself concerning him. Nor
are we to reckon ourselves so little interested in the great and sovereign Lord of all, whom
we have taken to be our God, and to whom we have absolutely resigned and devoted our-
selves, as not to be obliged to consider and satisfy ourselves in his pleasure, purposes, and
ends, more than our own apart from his. . Such as he hath pardoned, accepted, and *
pared for himself, are to serve and glorify him in a higher and more exalted capacity than
they ever could in this wretched world of ours, and wherein they have themselves the highest
satisfaction. When the blessed God is pleased in having attained and accomplished the end
and intendments of his own boundless love, too great to be satisfied with the conferring only
, temporary favours in this imperfect state, and they are pleased in partaking the full effects of
that love, who are we that we should be displeased ? or that we should oppose our satisfac-
tion to that of the glorious God, and the glorified creature ?
“Therefore, madam, whereas you cannot avoid to think much on this subject, and to have
the removal of that incomparable person for a great theme of your thoughts, I only propose
most humbly to your honour, that you would not confine them to the sadder and darker part
of that theme. It hath also a º: side, and it equally belongs to it to consider whither he
is gone, and to whom, as whence and from whom. Let, I beseech you, your mind be more
exercised in contemplating the glories of that state into which your blessed consort is trans-
lated, which will mingle pleasure and sweetness with the bitterness of your afflicting loss, by
giving you a daily intellectual participation, through the exercise of faith and hope, in his en-
joyments. . He cannot descend to share with you in your sorrows; but you may thus every
day ascend, and partake with him in his joys. He is a pleasant subject to consider: a pre-
F. spirit made meet for an inheritance with them that are sanctified, and with the saints in
ight, now entered into a state so connatural, and wherein it finds every thing most agreeable
to itself. How highly grateful is it to be united with the true centre, and come home to the
Father of Spirits! to consider how pleasant a welcome, how joyful an entertainment, your
oonsort hath met with above ; how delighted an associate he is with the general assembly, the
innumerable company of angels and the spirits of just men made perfect ; how joyful an
homage he continually pays to the throne of the celestial King !
“will yº. Ladyship #. that an hard saying of our departing Lord to his mournful dis-
ciples, “If ye loved me, you would rejoice that I said, I go to the Father, for my Father is
greater than I?’ John, xiv. 28. As if he had said, “He sits enthroned in higher glory than
you can frame any conception of by beholding me in so mean a condition on earth.' We are
as remote, and as much short in our thoughts, as to conceiving the glory of the Supreme
King, as a peasant, who never saw any thing better than his own cottage, from conceiving
the splendour of the most glorious prince's court. But, if that faith which is the substance of
things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen, be much accustomed to its proper work
and business, the daily, delightful visiting and viewing the glorious, invisible regions; if it
be often conversant in those vast and spacious tracts º pure and brightest light, and among
LADY RACHAEL RUSSELL. 173
unwillingness to bear what I must suffer, and such a victory over my-
self that, when once allayed, immoderate passions may not be apt to
break out again upon fresh occasions and accidents offering to my me-
mory that dear object of my desires, which must happen every day, I
may say every hour of the longest life I can live; that so when I must
return into the world, so far as to act that part that is incumbent upon
me in faithfulness to him I owe as much as can be due to man, it may
be with a great strength of spirits, and grace to live a stricter life of
holiness to my God, who will not always let me cry to him in vain.
On him I will wait till he have pity upon me, humbly imploring that
by the mighty aids of his Holy Spirit he will touch my heart with
greater love to himself. Then shall I be what he would have me.
But I am unworthy of such a spiritual blessing, who remain so unthank-
the holy inhabitants that replenish them; if it frequently employ itself in contemplating their
comely order, perfect harmony, sublime wisdom, unspotted purity, most fervent mutual love,
delicious conversation with each other, and perpetual, pleasant consent in their adoration and
observance of their eternal King, who is there to whom it would not be a solace to think, I
have such and such friends and relatives, some perhaps as dear as my own life, perfectly well
pleased, and happy among them? How can your love, madam, so generous a love towards
so deserving an object, how can it but more fervently sparkle in joy for his sake, than dissolve
in tears for your own 2
“Nor should such thoughts excite over-hasty, impatient desires of following presently to
heaven, but to the endeavours of serving God more cheerfully on earth for our appointed
time; which I earnestly desire your Ladyship to apply yourself to, as you wouldºot #.
God, who is your only hope, nor be cruel to yourself, nor dishonour the religion of Christians,
as if they had no other consolations than this earth can give, and earthly power can take from
them. Your Ladyship, if any one, would be loath to any thing unworthy your family and
rentage. Your highest alliance is to that Father and family above, whose dignity and
onour are, I doubt not, of highest account with you.
“I multiply words, being loath to lose my design, I shall only add that consideration, which
cannot but be valuable with you, upon his first proposal, who had all the advantages imagin-
able to give it its full weight, I mean that of those dear pledges left behind. My own heart
even bleeds to think of the case of those sweet babes, should they be bereaved of their other
parent too; and even your continued visible dejection would be their unspeakable disadvan-
tage. You always naturally create in them a reverence of you; and I cannot but apprehend
how the constant mien, aspect, and deportment of such a parent, will insensibly influence the
temper of dutiful children, and, if they be sad and despondent, depress their spirits, and blunt
and take off the edge and quickness, upon which their future comfort and usefulness will
much depend. Were it possible their now glorious father should visit and inspect you, would
you not be troubled to behold a frown in that bright and serene face? You are to please a
more penetrating eye, which you will best do by putting on a temper and deportment suitable
to your weighty charge and duty, and to the great purposes for which God continues you in .
the world, by giving over unnecessary solitude and retirement, whicº, though they please
you, do really prejudice you, and are more than you can bear. Nor can any rules of decency
requiremore. Nothing that is necessary and truly Christian ought to be reckoned unbecoming.
David's example, 2 Sam. xii. 20, is of too great authority to be counted a pattern of inde-
cency. The God of heaven lift up the light of his countenance upon you, and thereby put
gladness into your heart, and give you to apprehend him saying to you, “Arise, and walk in
the light of the Lord l’
“That I have used so much freedom in this paper, I make no apology for; but do, there-
fore, hide myself in the dark, not judging it consistent with that plainness which I thought
the case might require, to give any other account of myself, than that I am one deeply sensi-
ble of your and your noble relatives’ deep affliction, and who scarce ever bow the knee be-
fore the mercy-seat without remembering it, and who shall ever be,
“Madam, your Ladyship’s
“Most sincere honourer, and
“Most humble devoted servant.

Though Mr. Howe, says Dr. Calamy, the writer of his Life, did not put his name to this
his consolatory epistle, yet the style, and several particularities in it, soon discovered who
was the author. er Ladyship sent him a letter of thanks, and told him that he must not
expect to remain concealed. She promised to endeavour to follow the advice he had given
her, and eften wrote to him afterwards; some of which Letters, says Dr. Calamy, I have
seen and read, and they show that his freedom was taken kindly, and that his pains were well
bestowed.—See Dr. Calamy's Life of Mr. Howe, prefixed to his Works, p. 33.
174 MEMOIRs of
ful a creature for those earthly ones I have enjoyed, because I have
them no longer. Yet God, who knows our frames, will not expect that
when we are weak we should be strong. This is much comfort under
my deep dejections, which are surely increased by the subtle malice of
the great enemy of souls taking all advantage upon my present weak-
ened and wasted spirits, assaulting with divers temptations, as, when
I have in any measure overcome one kind, I find another in the room;
as when I am less afflicted, as I before complained, then I find reflections
troubling me, as omissions of some sort or other, that if either greater
persuasions had been used—he had gone away—or some errors at the
trial amended—or other applications made, he might have been acquit-
ted, and so yet have been in the land of the living, though I discharged
not these things as faults upon myself, yet as aggravations to my sor-
rows, so that my heart shrinks to think his time possibly was shortened
by unwise management. I believe I do ill to torment myself with
such unprofitable thoughts.
Lady Russell to Doctor Tillotson.
Your letters never trouble me, Mr. Dean.” On the contrary, they
are comfortable refreshments to my, for the most part, overburthened
mind, which, both by nature and accident, is made so weak that I can-
not bear with that constancy I should the losses I have lately felt. I
can say, friends and acquaintance thou hast hid out of my sight, but I
hope it shall not disturb my peace. These were young, and as they had
begun their race of life after me, so I desired they might have ended it
also. But happy are those whom God retires in his grace. I trust these
were so, and then no age can be amiss. To the young it is not too early,
nor to the aged too late. Submission and prayer are all, we know, that
we can do towards our own relief in our distresses, or to disarm God’s
anger, either in our public or private concerns. The scene will soon
alter to that peaceful andeternal home in prospect. But in this time of
our pilgrimage, vicissitudes of all sorts are every one's lot.
About the middle of October, 1690.
Lady Russell to Lady Sunderland.i.
Your kind letter, madam, asks me to do much better for me and mine
than to scribble so insignificantly as I do on a piece of paper; but, for
twenty several reasons, yours must have the advantage you offer me
with obliging earnestness a thousand times greater than I deserve, or
than there can be cause for, but that you have taken a resolution to
be all goodness and favour to me : and, indeed, what greater proof can
you almost give than remembering me so often, and letting me receive
the exceeding advantage of your doing so by reading your letters, which
are all so edifying 7 when I know you are continually engaged in so
great and necessary employments as you are ; and have but too imper-
fect health, which would unfit any other in the world but Lady Sunder-
land for at least so great despatches as you are charged with. These
are most visible tokens of Providence, that every one that aims to do
their duty shall be enabled to do it.
* Then Dean of St. Paul's, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury.
t Daughter of George Digby, Earl of Bristol. w
LADY RACHAEL RUSSELL. 175
I hope your natural strength is so great, that it will in some time, if
you do your part, master what has been accidentally in the disorder of
it. Health, if one strictly considers, is the first of earthly blessings; for
even the conversation of friends, which, as to spiritual profits, as you
excellently observe, as it is the nearest approach we can make to heaven
while we live in these tabernacles of clay, so it is in a temporal sense also
the most pleasant and the most profitable improvement we can make of
the time we are to spend on earth; but, as I was saying, if our bodies
are out of tune, how little do we enjoy what in itself is so precious !
And how often must we choose, if we can attain it, a short slumber that
may take off the sense of pain, rather than to accept what we know in
worth excels almost to infiniteness | No soul can speak more feelingly
then my poor self on this subject, who can truly say, my friendships have
made all the joys and troubles of my life : And yet, who would live
and not love | Those who have tried the insipidness of such a life,
would, I believe, never choose it. Mr. Waller says, it is, with singing,
all we know they do above. And it is enough ; for if there is so charm-
ing a delight in the love, and suitableness in humours to creatures, what
must it be to our clarified spirits to love in the presence of God l Can
there be a greater contemplation to provoke to diligence in our prepara-
tion for that great change, when we shall be perfected, and so continue
for ever ?
Her ladyship proved herself a faithful guardian of her lord’s reputa-
tion, by showing his memory every honour that lay in her power. A
few days after her lord’s death, she, in vindication of his character, and
indeed of Doctor Burnet’s, who was supposed to be the author or adviser
of Lord Russell’s speech upon the scaffold,” wrote the following letter
to the king.
N. B. This letter is thus indorsed by her :
JMy Letter to the King a few days after my dear Lord’s death. *
“MAY IT PLEASE You R MAJESTY, -
“I FIND my husband's enemies are not appeased with his blood, but
still continue to misrepresent him to your majesty. It is a great addition
to my sorrows, to hear your majesty is prevailed upon to believe that the
paper he delivered to the sheriff, at his death, was not his own. I can
truly say, and am ready in the solemnest manner to attest, that [during
his imprisonment]f I often heard him discourse the chiefest matters con-
tained in that paper in the same expressions he therein uses, as some of
those few relations that were admitted to him can likewise aver. And
sure it is an argument of no great force, that there is a phrase or two
in it another uses, when nothing is more common than to take up such
words we like, or are accustomed to in our conversation. I beg leave
further to avow to your majesty, that all that is set down in the paper
read to your majesty on Sunday night, to be spoken in my presence, is
exactly true, Š as I doubt not but the rest of the paper is, which was writ-
* Burnet's History of his Own Time, vol. ii. p. 209, edit. 1815. f Ibid.
f The words included in the brackets are crossed out.
§ The paper contained an account of all that passed between Doctor Burnet and his Lord-
ship during his attendance upon him. . This account, Doctor Burnet calls a journal, which
he read before the King and council, at his majesty's command, on the day after Lord Rus-
sell's execution-Burnet's History of his Own Time, vol. ii. p. 209, edit. 1815.
176 MEMOIRS OF
'f
ten at my request: and the author of it, in all his conversations with my
husband that I was privy to, showed himself a loyal subject to your ma-
jesty, a faithful friend to him, and a most tender and conscientious minister
to his soul... I do therefore humbly beg your majesty charitably to believe
that he, who in all his life was observed to act with the greatest clearness
and sincerity, would not at the point of death do so disingenuous and false
a thing as to deliver for his own what was not properly and expressly
so : and if after the loss, in such manner, of the best husband in the
world, I were capable of any consolation, your majesty only could afford
it by having better thoughts of him, which, when I was so importunate
to speak with your majesty, I thought I had some reason to believe I
should have inclined you to, not from the credit of my word, but upon
the evidence of what had to say. I hope I have written nothing in
this that will displease your majesty. If I have, I humbly beg of
you to consider it, as coming from a woman amazed with grief, and
that you will pardon the daughter of a person who served your majesty’s
father in his greatest extremities, (and your majesty in your greatest
posts,) and one that is not conscious of having ever done any thing to
offend you (before.) I shall ever pray for your majesty's long life and
happy reign, who am, with all humility, may it please your majesty,”
C.
Upon the Duke of Monmouth’s insurrection,” her ladyship thus writes
to Doctor Fitzwilliam, in which letter, as there are the tenderest accents
of grief for her loss, her wounds still bleeding, so there is the most ho-
nourable testimony borne to her lord’s character.
Lady Russell to Doctor Fitzwilliam.
“And now, doctor, I take this wild attempt to be a new project, not
depending on or being linked in the least to any former design, if there
was then any real one, which, I am satisfied, was not any more than
(my own lord confessed) talk; and it is possible that talk going so far
as to consider if a remedy to supposed evils might be sought, how it
could be formed. But, as I was saying, if all this attempt was entirely
new, yet, the suspicion my lord must have lain under, would have been
great, and some other circumstances, I do confess, must have made his
part an hard one ; so that, from the deceitfulness of the heart, or want
of true sight in the directive faculty, what would have followed, God
only knows. From the frailty of the will I should have feared but little
evil, for he had so just a soul, so firm, so good, he could not warp from
such principles as were so, unless misguided by his understanding, and
* The Duke of Monmouth was son to King Charles the Second, by Lucy Barlow, alias
Walters. In his declaration against James the Second, among other things, he accuses him
of the barbarous murder of Arthur, Earl of Essex, in the Tower, and of several others, to
conceal it; of the most unjust condemnation of William Lord Russell, and Colonel Alger.
non Sidney, being only accused for meeting, in discharge of their duty to God and their
country, to consult of extraordinary yet lawful means to rescue our religion and liberties from
the hands of violence, when all ordinary means, according to the laws, were denied and eb-
structed; concluding: “And we do appeal unto the great God concerning the justice of our
cause, and implore his aid and assistance that he would enable us to go forth in his name, and
to do valiantly against his and our enemies, for he it is that knows that we have not chosen
to engage in arms for corrupt and private ends or designs, but out of a deep sense of our
duty; we therefore commit our cause unto him, who is the Lord of hosts and the God of
i.” The Duke of Monmouth was taken, tried, and on the 15th of July, 1685, be-
©8.000s
LADY RACHAEL RUSSELL. 177
that his own, not another's ; for I dare say, as he could discern, he never
went into anything considerable upon the mere submission to any one's
particular judgment. Now his own, I know, he could never have framed
to have thought well of the late actings, and therefore most probably must
have sat loose from them. But I am afraid his excellent heart, had he
lived, would have been often pierced from the time his life was taken
away to this. On the other hand, having, I trust, a reasonable ground
of hope he has found those mercies he died with a cheerful persuasion he
should, there is no reason to mourn my loss, when that soul I loved so
well lives in felicities, and shall do so to all eternity. This I know in
reason should be my cure ; but flesh and blood in this mixed state is
such a slave to sense, the memory how I have lived, and how, as I think,
I must ever do for the time to come, does so prevail and weaken my
most Christian resolves, that I cannot act the part that mere philosophy,
as you set down many instances, enabled many to an appearance
of easiness, for I verily believe they had no more than me, but vainly
affected it. As I began the day with your letter, and the sheets of dis-
course, both enclosed in one paper, so I conclude it with some prayers
you formerly assisted me with. Thus, doctor, you see you have a
special right to those prayers you are pleased I should present, for the
same effect on your spirit, if a portion of suffering should be your lot, as
you now wish on mine,which after my poor fashion I will not be wanting
in, that am,
“Sir your obliged and faithful l
“Friend and servant,
“Southampton-house, 21 July, 1685.” “RACHAEL RUSSELL.”
Her ladyship also, in the same affectionate regard to her lord’s me.
mory, after the Revolution, made use of her interest in favour of his
chaplain, Mr. Samuel Johnson, who calls Lord Russell “the greatest
Englishman we had,” and was very instrumental in procuring him the
pension and other bounties which he received from that government.
It may be also added, that, as she had promised her lord to take care
of her own life for the sake of his children, she was religiously mindful
to perform that promise, and continued his widow to the end of her life,
surviving him above forty years, for she lived to the 29th of September,
1723, dying in her 87th year. Indeed, the series of letters during her
long widowhood are the most tender and honourable testimonies of her
respect to her husband’s memory; and we may observe in them an al-
most unabating sorrow for the loss of him, united with an eminent piety,
and profound submission to the Divine will,—at least no murmurs
against it.
It is observable concerning Lady Russell, that, in the free effusions of
her heart to her intimate friends, with the constant moans of grief for
the loss of her dear husband, we remember not, upon a diligent perusal
of her Letters, so much is one trace of keen resentment or reflection
upon any person whatever that had any concern in her husband's death,
if rather it may not be called murder. If the Duke of York was so ma-
lignant as to instigate his brother, King Charles, to be inexorable to the
applications that were made for Lord Russell’s life,” and even to pro-
* The King, says Bishop Burmet, could not bear the discourse of showing any favour to
Lord Russell; and the Duke of York would bear the discourse, though he was resolved
23 *
178 MEMOIRS OF
w
pose that he should be executed at his own door, the good lady drops no
censures upon him ; and even after James the Second was no more
King, but a wanderer in a foreign land, there is nothing like a triumph
over him, or anintimation from her ladyship that she thought he was just-
ly punished for his bloody crimes. Even the inhuman Jefferies himself,
who distinguished himself by a flaming speech against Lord Russell at his
trial, is passed over in silence by her ; and she takes not the least notice
of his disgrace, imprisonment, and death in the Tower, owing, as it has
been thought by some, to the blows he received while in the hands of
an enraged populace.* In fact, her Ladyship's letters discover a mind
in close connexion with her God, or earnestly labouring to enjoy this
inestimable blessing, and bleeding with the incurable wound she had
felt in the loss of the best of friends and husbands; but there are not
the least traces of a sour or angry spirit against the unkind instruments
that had brought such overwhelming sorrows upon her.
It appears from some of her Ladyship’s letters, that she was afflicted,
Some years after her lord’s death, with great weakness or dimness of
sight. “My eyes grow ill so fast,” says she, in one of her letters, “I
resolve to do nothing of this sort by candle-light.”f And in another:
“For the chat of the town, I will not venture to hurt my eyes for it.”f
From this complaint we find her happily relieved ; for, on June 28,
1694, Archbishop Tillotson wrote to Doctor Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury,
“That he could not forbear telling him that Lady Russell’s eye was
couched yesterday morning with very good success.”$ From this time
to her death, from what we can gather, she seems to have enjoyed her
sight without any impediment; for her last two letters to the Earl of
Galway, written about the year 1717, or 1718, appear, says the Editor
of her Letters, by the largeness of the text, to have been written
without spectacles, as Lady Russell was sometimes accustomed to do
in extreme old age. This circumstance of her disorder upon her eyes,
we the rather take notice of, that we may communicate to our readers
the resignation she discovered even in the apprehenison that she might
against the thing. But according to Dr. Wellwood, the King was not only inclined to pardon
him, but suffered some words to escape on the very day he was executed, as sufficiently
showed his irresolution in that matter. In the Duke of Monmouth's journal it is said, that
the King told him, that he inclined to have saved the Lord Russell, but was forced to consent
to his death, otherwise he must have broke with his brother, the Duke of York. The Duke
of York descended so low in his revenge, (originating not improbably from Lord Russell's
having proposed the bill in 1680 to the Commons, to prevent a popish successor, and having
carried it, when passed, to the House of Lords, for their concurrence,) as to desire that Lor
Russell might be executed before his own door: an insult the King himself would not con-
sent to—Introduction to Lady Russell's Letters, p. 60.—But, though Lady Russell, as far
as we remember, calls not up, in a single hint, in all her Letters, the Duke of York's asper-
ity against her husband, who was so dear to her, yet, it seems that he was by another person,
the father himself of Lord Russell, reminded to his face of the hard fate his son had met
with. King James the Second, in his distresses in 1688, addressed himself to the Earl—“My
lord, you are an honest man, have great credit, and can dome signal service.”—“Ah, sir,” re-
plied the earl, “I am old and feeble; I can do you but little service, but I once had a son that
could have assisted you; but he is no more”. James was sº struck with this reply, that he
could not speak for some minutes—Introduction to Lady Russell's Letters, p. 73.
* See, Râpin's History of England, vol. xii. p. 162, 8vo. edit. This historian adds, “Never
man had better deserved a public punishment, as an atonement for all the mischiefs done to
his country, and for all the blood spilt by his means.”
f See her Letters, p. 289.
f Ibid. p. 291. Mr. Howe, in the dedication to Lady Russell, prefixed to his sermon on the
death of Queen Mary, elegantly alludes to this circumstance: speaking of her Ladyship's
eyes, he says, “which better serve for heaven, than earth.”
§ Seeher Letters, p. 304, in a marginal note. | Ibid. p. 331.
LADY RACHAEL RUSSELL. 179
be shortly deprived of the invaluable blessing, the light of the day.
“While I can see at all,” says she, writing to Doctor Fitzwilliam, 5th
Nov. 1692,” “I must do a little more than I can when Godsees it best
that outward darkness shall fall upon me, which will deprive me of all
society at a distance, which I esteem exceeding profitable and pleasant;
but still, I have full hope I shall rejoice in that he will not deny me
his great grace to strengthen me with might by his spirit in the inner
man. Then I shall walk in the right way till I reach the joys of eternal
endurance.”
And again, to the same friend:#—“Alas, my bad eyes serve me
now so little, that I could not read your papers, and tell you that I
have done so, in one day. It is mortifying, yet, I hope I do not repine,
but, on the contrary, rejoice in the goodness of my God to me, that,
when I feared the utter loss of sight, has let me thus long see the
light, and by it given me time to prepare for that day of bodily dark-
ness, which perhaps must soon overtake me.”
The following letter to her son, the Duke of Bedford, will further
illustrate the character of Lady Russell as a mother and a Christian.
It has been recently printed, together with some other letters found
among the papers belonging to the Cavendish family, by permission of
the Duke of Devonshire.
Lady Russell to her Son the Duke of Bedford.
Stratton, July, 1706.
When I take my pen to write this, I am, by the goodness and mercy
of God, in a moderate and easy state of health—a blessing I have thank-
fully felt through the course of a long life, which (with a much greater
help, the contemplation of a more durable state) has maintained and
upheld me through varieties of providences and conditions of life. ... But
all the delights and sorrows of this mixed state must end; and I feel
the decays that attend old age creep so fast on me,f that, although I
may yet get over some more years, however, I ought to make it my
frequent meditation, that the day is near, when this earthly tabernacle
shall be dissolved, and my immortal spirit be received into that place
of purity, where no unclean thing can enter; there to sing eternal
praises to the great Creator of all things. With the psalmist, I believe,
“ at His right hand there are pleasures for evermore :” and what is
good and of eternal duration, must be joyful above what we can con-
ceive; as what is evil and of like duration, must be despairingly mise-
rable. And now, my dear child, I pray, I beseech you, I conjure you,
my loved son, consider what there is of felicity in this world, that can
compensate the hazard of losing an everlasting easy being ; and then
deliberately weigh, whether or no the delights and gratifications of a
vicious or idle course of life are such, that a wise or thoughtful man
would choose or submit to. Again, fancy its enjoyments at the height
imagination can propose or suggest (which yet rarely or never happens,
or if it does, as a vapour soon vanishes; (but let us grant it could,
and last to fourscore years, is this more than the quickest thought to
eternity ? Oh, my child fix on that word, eternity | Old Hobbes, with
* See her Letters, p. 293. f Ibid. p. 295.
f Lady Russell was now past seventy years of age.
180 MEMOIRS OF º
all his fancied strength of reason, could never endure to rest or stay
upon that thought, but ran from it to some miserable amusement. I
remember to have read of some man, who reading in the Bible some-
thing that checked him, he threw it on the ground; the book fell open,
and his eye fixed on the word eternity, which so struck upon his mind,
that he, from a bad liver, became a most holy man. Certainly, no-
thing besides the belief of reward and punishment can make a man
truly happy in his life, at his death, and after death. Keep innocency,
and take heed to the thing that is right ; for that shall bring a man
peace at the last—peace in the evening of each day, peace in the day of
death, and peace after death. For my own part, I apprehend, I should
not much care (if free from pain) what my portion in this world was,
if a life to continue, perhaps one year, or twenty, or eighty; but then,
to be dust, not to know or be known any more, this is a thought has
something of horror in it to me, and always had ; and would make me
careless, if it were to be long or short ; but to live, to die, to live again,
has a joy in it; and how inexpressible is that joy, if we secure an hum-
ble hope to live ever happily; and this we may do, if we take care
to live agreeably to our rational faculties, which also best secures health,
strength, and peace of mind, the greatest blessings on earth. Believe
the word of God, the Holy Scriptures, the promises and threats contain-
ed in them; and what most obstructs our doing so, I am persuaded, is
fear of punishment. Look up to the firmament, and down to the deep,
how can any doubt a divine power 4 And if there is, what can be impos-
sible to infinite power'ſ Then, why an infidel in the world ! And if not
such, who then would hazard a future state, for the pleasure of sin a few
days " No wise man, and, indeed, no man that lives and would deserve
to see good days; for the laws of God are grateful. In his Gospel the
terrors of majesty are laid aside, and he speaks in the still and soft voice
of his Son incarnate, the fountain and spring whence flow gladness. A
gloomy and dejected countenance better becomes a galley slave than a
Christian, where joy, love, and hope should dwell. The idolatrous
heathen performed their worship with trouble and terror; but a Chris-
tian, and a good liver, with a merry heart and lightsome spirit: for, ex-
amine and consider well, where is the hardship of a virtuous life
(when we have moderated our irregular habits and passions, and sub-
dued them to the obedience of reason and religion.) We are free to all
the innocent gratifications and delights of life; and we may lawfully,
nay, further, I say we ought to rejoice in this beautiful world, and all
the conveniences and provisions, even for pleasure, we find in it; and
which, in much goodness, is afforded us to sweeten and allay the la—
bours and troubles incident to this mortal state, nay, inseparable, I be-
lieve, by disappointments, cross accidents, bad health, unkind returns
for good deeds, mistakes even among friends, and what is most touch-
ing, death of friends. But in the worst of these calamities, the thought
of a happy etermity does not alone support, but also revive the spirit of
a man ; and he goeth forth to his labour with inward comfort, till the
evening of his day, (that is, his life on earth,) and, with the psalm-
ist, Cries out, “I will consider the heavens, even the work of thy fin-
gers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained. What is man,
that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man, that thou shouldst so
regard him?” Psalm viii. “Thou madest him lower than the angels, to
LADY RACHAEL RUSSELL. 181
crown him with glory.” Here is matter of praise and gladness. “The
fool,” as the psalmist expresses it, “hath said in his heart, There is no
God.” Or, let us consider the man, who is content to own an invisi-
ble power, yet tries to believe, that when man has done living on this
earth he lives no more : but I would ask, if any of these unhappy crea-
tures are fully persuaded, or that there does not remain in those men, at
times, (as in sickness, or sober thoughtfulness,) some suspicion or doubt,
that it may be other than they try to think. And although they may,
to shun such a thought, or be rid of such a contemplation, run away
from it to some unprofitable diversion, or, perhaps, suffer themselves to
be rallied out of such a thought, so destructive to the way they walk
in ; yet, to be sure, that man does not feel the peace and tranquillity
he does, who believes a future state, and is a good man. For, although
this good man, when his mind may be clouded with some calamity,
very grievous to him, or the disorder of vapours to a melancholy tem-
per, I say, if he is tempted to some suspicion, that it is possible it may
be other than he believes, (pray observe,) such a surmise or thought,
nay, the belief cannot drive him to any horror : he fears no evil, be-
cause he is a good man, and with his life all sorrow ends too; therefore,
it is not to be denied, he is the wisest man who lives by the Scripture
rule, and endeavours to keep God’s laws. First, His mind is in peace
and tranquillity ; he walks sure who keeps innocence, and takes heed
to the thing that is right : 2dly, He is secure God is his friend, that In-
finite Being ; and he has said, “Come unto me, ye that are heavy
laden, my yoke in easy :” but guilt is, certainly, a heavy load; it sinks
and damps the spirits. “A wounded spirit who can bear !” And the
evil subtle spirit waits (I am persuaded) to drive the sinner to despair;
but godliness makes a cheerful heart. *
Now, O man let not past errors discourage : who lives and sins
not " God will judge the obstinate, profane, unrelenting sinner, but,
full of compassion to the work of his own hand, if they will cease from
doing evil and learn to do well, pray for grace to repent, and endeavour
with that measure which will be given, if sincerely asked for; for at
what time soever a sinner repents, (but observe, this is no license to sin,
because at any time we may repent,) for that day we may not live to
see; and so, like the fool in the parable, our lamps be untrimmed when we
are called upon. Remember, that to forsake vice is the begining of vir-
tue: and virtue certainly is most conducive to content of mind and
a cheerful spirit. He (the virtuous man) rejoiceth with a friend in the
good things he enjoys ; fears not the reproaches of any ; no evil spirit
can approach to hurt him here, or accuse him in the great day of the
Lord, when every soul shall be judged according as they have done
good or evil. Oh, blessed state fit for life, fit for death ! In this good
state I wish and pray for all mankind; but most particularly, and with
all the ardour I am capable of, to those I have brought into the world, and
those dear to them. Thus are my fervent and frequent prayers direct-
ed,—that you may die the death of the righteous, and to this end, that
Almighty God would endue you all with spiritual wisdom, to discern
what is pleasing in his sight.
In an unfinished paper,” the writing of which is stated to denote the
* See “Some Account of the Life of Rachael Wriothesley, Lady Russell, by the Editor
I89 MEMOIRS OF
trembling hand of extreme old age, Lady Russell, in reviewing her life
for a devotional purpose, thus adverts to her irreparable bereavement,
and to the subsequent loss of this cherished son :-
“Vanity cleaves to me, I fear, O Lord In all I say, in all I do. In
all I suffer, proud, not enduring to slights or neglects, subject to envy
the good parts of others, even as to worldly gifts. Failing in my duty
to my superiors; apt to be soon angry with, and without cause too of—
ten; and by it may have grieved those that desired to please me, or pro-
voked others to sin by my rash anger. Not ready to own any advantage I
may have received by good advice or example. Not well satisfied
if I have not all the respect I expected, even from my superiors. Such
has been the pride of my naughty heart, I fear, and also neglect in my
performances due to my superiors, children, friends or servants—I heartily
lament my sin. But, alas ! in my most dear husband’s troubles, seek-
ing help from man, but finding none. His life was taken away, and so
Sorely was my spirit wounded, even without prospect of future comfort
or consolation—the more faulty in me, having three dear children to per-
form my duty to, with thankfulness for such a blessing left me, under so
heavy a dispensation as I felt the loss of him to be. But, alas ! how
feeble did I find myself both then, and also poorly prepared to bear the
loss of my dear child and only son, in 1711.
“If I carry my sorrow to the grave, O Lord, in much mercy let it not
be imputed as sin in me ! His death was a piercing sorrow to me, yet
thou hast supported me, Lord 1 even in a very old age, and freer from
ºly pains and sickness than most feel—I desire thankfully to recol-
eCt.
“Alas ! from my childhood ſ can recollect a backwardness to pray,
and coldness when I did, and ready to take or seek cause to be absent
at the public ones. Even after a sharp sickness and danger at Chelsea,
spending my time childishly, if not idly ; and if I had read a few lines
in a pious book, contented I had done well. Yet, at the same time,
ready to give ear to reports, and possibly malicious ones, and telling my
mother-in-law to please her. At seventeen years of age was married ;
continued too often being absent at the public prayers, taking very
slight causes to be so, liking too well the esteemed diversions of the
town, as the park, visiting, plays, &c. trifling away my precious time.
At our return to London, I can recollect that I would choose upon a
Sunday to go to church at Lord B.'s, where the sermon would be short,
a great dinner, and after, worldly talk; when at my father’s, the ser-
mon longer, and discourse more edifying. And too much after the
same way, I much fear, at my several returns to Wales and England.
In the year 1665 was brought to bed of my first child; with him too
indulging I fear to get strength soon, and spend my time as before, much
with my loved sisters; I doubt not heedful, or not enough so, my ser-
vents went to church, if I did or did not go myself.
“Some time after in London, and then with my father's wife at Tun-
bridge, and after with her at Bath, gave too much of my time to care-
lessly indulging in idleness. At Bath too well contented to follow the
of Madame du Deffand's Letters,” &c. 8vo. London, 1820, f 147. The manuscript, found
among the Devonshire MSS., is a fragment, a mere rough draft, with many erasures, and in
some places very obscure.
LADY RACHAEL RUSSELL. 183
common way of passing the time in diversion, and thinking but little
what was serious; considering more health of body than that of my soul.
Forgive my heaviness and sloth in spirituals, for Christ Jesus' sake.
“After this, I must still accuse myself that sometimes in Wales, and
other times in England, my care ip good has not suited to my duty, not
with the active and devout heart and mind I should in the evening have
praised thee, my God, for the mercies of the past day, and recollected
my evil doings, or omissions of doing good in my power. . Not in the
morning carefully fixing my will and purpose to pass the day pleasing
in thy sight, and giving good example to man, particularly such as un-
der my care; more especially after my second marriage, forgetting by
whose blessing I was so happy, consuming too much time with him.”
# % % * * % #
The end wanting.
This interesting fragment proves that Lady Russell’s piety was that
of the inner man, consisting “in the spirit, not in the letter; whose
praise is not of men” only, “but of God.” “Christianity,” (it is her
own expression,)“she thought not distinguished by outward fashions, or
by the professing a body of notions differing from others in the world,
but by the renewing of our minds by peaceableness charity, and hea-
venly love.”
M. R. S. E LIZ A B E T H B U R N E T.*
THIS lady was born November 8, in the year 1661. She was the
eldest daughter of Sir Richard Blake, Knight, the fifth son of Thomas
Blake of Earontoun, in the county of Southampton, Esquire, of an emi-
ment family, and of Elizabeth, daughter of Doctor Bathurst, a physician
in London, a person of distinguished piety, and among the most con-
siderable men of his profession in his time.
At eleven years old, she began to have a true sense of religion, and
read with great application the books that were put into her hands;
but was not entirely satisfied with them, aspiring after more solid and
sublime sentiments than what she met within them. On this account
it was, that more than ordinary care was taken to make her think
meanly of herself, she being bred up in the greatest privacy possible.
When she was but little more than seventeen years of age, she was
married to Robert Berkely, of Spetchly in the county of Worcester, Es-
quire, grandson of Sir Robert Berkely who was a judge in the reign of
Charles the Second. The match between this young gentleman and
her was procured principally by the means of Doctor Fell, then Bishop
of Oxford, who was Mr. Berkely’s guardian, and had taken the care
of his education. The Bishop thought that the assisting his friend
in that match, was the greatest service he ever performed for him.
When the young lady came into the family, she found her husband’s
mother a zealous Papist, and a woman of a good life. This put her
upon taking particular care to study her own religion in a larger com-
pass, in order to understand the controversies between the Protestants
and the Papists, that she might be able to preserve her husband and
herself from the artifices and insinuations of the popish priests, and the
influence of his mother, who had great interest in him. But yet, con-
sidering the particular turn of her husband’s mind, and the great defer-
ence she owed to his mother, she found herself obliged to be very tender
and careful, that she might not be disturbed with unnecessary disputes
about religion; in which, and in her whole management in this respect,
there appeared a discretion admired by all who knew her. At the same
time, this young lady obliged herself to a more than ordinary strictness
in all the offices of piety, and in her whole conduct, that she might
adorn her own profession by a suitable practice, constantly governing
herself by the rules of true religion, and the severest virtue. Accord-
ingly, living in the country, where she enjoyed much leisure, she spent
great part of her time in devotion and reading. When she was inclin-
ed to divert herself with work, she generally had some persons to read
to, her; and when her poor neighbours came to visit her, which, upon
her encouragement, they often did, she would frequently read good books
* This account is taken from a memoir drawn up by the Rev. Dr. T. Goodwyn, Archdea-
con of Oxford.
MRS. ELIZABETH BURNET. 185
to them herself, that she might instruct them without seeming to take
too much upon her. In this manner she lived for six years, being es-
teemed and loved by all who knew her, even by those who, on account
of different opinions in religion, were likely to be most prejudiced
against her.
In King James's time, when the fears of popery began greatly to in-
crease, and Bishop Fell died, who had great influence over Mr. Berkely,
to prevent his being wrought upon by his relations at the time they con-
ceived mighty hopes of the popish religion being settled in these king-
doms, Mrs. Berkely prevailed upon her husband to go to Holland; and
accordingly, they travelled together over the Seventeen Provinces. In
the Popish provinces, on the account of his relations, they met with an
unusually kind reception, letters being sent, without their knowledge,
to Brussels, Ghent, Liege, and other considerable places, recommending
Mrs. Berkely in a very particular manner, as one whose piety and virtue
had she been of the Catholic Church, as they called it, were great
enough to entitle her to the character of a saint. After these journeys,
Mr. and Mrs. Berkely fixed at the Hague, where she was soon known,
and grew into the esteem and friendship of persons of the highest rank.
Here they continued till about the time of the Revolution, when they
returned into England, and went to Spetchly, their country seat. Here
Mrs. Berkely went on in the happy course of life she had at first en-
gaged in, making continual increases in knowledge and good works.
She had generally some young persons in her family, whom she well im-
proved both by her instructions and example, so that there was quickly
a visible alteration made in them.
Her knowledge and virtue made her every day more and more taken
notice of in that country. She contracted an intimate friendship with
the eminent Doctor Stillingfleet, Bishop of Worcester, who to his death
maintained a high esteem of her; and upon several occasions has been
often heard to say, “that he knew not a more considerable woman in
England than she was.” Thus she continued to live with Mr. Berkely till
the year kö93, when it pleased God to remove him from her by death.
In her widowhood, as she had more leisure than in her married state,
so, she applied it wholly to devotion, to reading, to acts of charity,
and the offices of friendship. Particularly, she took upon her the care
of her late husband’s Protestant relations, as if they had been her own;
and indeed, she was a mother to them all as long as she lived, and show-
ed a great concern and kindness for them at her death. She was also
very good and obliging to all the rest of his family.
She had then a very plentiful income, which she managed with great
prudence, as well as in a large exercise of charity; and indeed she was
uneasy at all other kind of expenses but what went in that way.
While she continued at Spetchly, she kept a hospitable table, to which
the neighbouring clergy were always welcome. She paid true respect
to such of them as were in low circumstances, cordially esteeming them
for their functions and labours. She frequently made them presents of
the most useful books, and to some she generously lent money, without
requiring any security, expecting only to be paid when, by the provi-
dence of God, they might be put into more easy circumstances.
Mr. Berkely ordering in his will a great sum of money to be raised
out of his estate, to erect a hospital at Worcester for poor people, she
24
186 MEMOIRS OF
had it much at heart to see the design brought to perfection as soon as
possible; and it pleased God to continue her life till she saw it accom-
plished. , Besides, the care of this business, she took upon her several
charges in relation to his affairs, more than the law required, in the
payment of debts and legacies. She also still continued one eminent
instance of charity, to which she had engaged Mr. Berkely in his life-
time ; a kind of charity which is now, by the Divine blessing, spread
almost all over England; the setting up schools for the instruction and
education of poor children, which she afterwards increased to a far
greater number.
Mrs. Berkely had early an inclination to employ her pen in several
sorts of composition, which she was thought by her friends to do to such
very good purpose, that it encouraged her to spend much of her time in
that way. While she was a widow, she made the first draught of that
excellent book of hers, entitled, “A New Method of Devotion, or Rules
for Holy and Devout Living, with Prayers on several occasions, and
Advices and Devotions for the Holy Sacrament.” It was designed for
her own use only, consisting of such rules and directions as she resolved
to conduct herself by, and which indeed had been all along the mea-
sure of her practice. º
She continued a widow near seven years, and then was married to
Doctor Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury. She found in the Bishop's
house a family of children, whom she treated, not with a false indul-
gence on the one hand, or unnatural severity on the other, but with all
that care and true concern for their education, as if they had been her
own ; and indeed, she was loved and respected by them as if she had
brought them into the world : of which the Bishop was so sensible,
that he had by his will, then made, left them under her direction and au-
thority in so absolute a manner, that it has been seldom known that so
much power was ever intrusted even to the real mothers of any chil-
dren. The Bishop, rightly judging that he brought blessing and hap-
piness enough into his family by bringing such a mother into it, desired
her to secure all her own estate and income to herself, with a power to
make such a will as she pleased, to which he bound himself to consent.
Thus she continued the mistress of all that was her own, allowing for
her own entertainment what did not exceed the rate of a boarding-house,
that so she might the more abound in good works; which the Bishop
accepted of, though he was willing, as he often told her, “that nothing
at all should be allowed on that account.” After this, she extended her
charity further than she had done before ; and, instead of giving a fifth
part of her income, which would have been no small proportion, she
was very uneasy at taking only a fifth part to her own use. She sel-
dom went beyond it, and was much oftener restrained within it, by
which means she was able to employ considerable sums in charitable
uses ; and particularly the number of children taught at her expense, in
and about Worcester and Salisbury, amounted to above a hundred.
She now grew into a more general acquaintance, and was continually
rising higher in the esteem of the world in proportion as she became more
known. She entered into friendships with some persons of the greatest
quality, which made no other alteration in her than that of increasing
her zeal of doing more good as her interest was enlarged. To be rich
in good works, was visibly the reigning design of her whole life, and
MRS. ELIZABETH BURNET. 187
that in which she most of all delighted herself. Notwithstanding the
interruptions which a more diffusive acquaintance gave her, she spent as
much time as she could secure to herself, in writing upon Divine and
moral subjects, and was prevailed with to consent to the printing of the
first edition of the above-mentioned book, which, as well as the second,
was entirely her own composition, without any assistance from any per-
son whatever. The book being very much approved of by many of her
friends, she apprehended she could make it more useful by a large addi-
tion out of many other papers she had by her. Upon this, she printed .
a second edition at her own expense, that she might dispose of it among
those whom she thought most likely to be improved by it.
This excellent woman kept a constant journal of her life, and every
evening employed no inconsiderable time in recollecting her actions
and discourse in the day; and she would call herself to an account in
every particular, that the errors of every day past, might be avoided in
those that might follow.
She continually laboured under a weak habit of body, which at length
grew upon her to such a degree, that it was thought she could not easily
overcome it. On this account, she was advised to go to the Spa, for the
recovery of her health. She undertook a journey thither in the year
1707; and wheresoever she went, she was received with great marks
of esteem and respect by persons of the most eminent rank.
After her return, she seemed to be in a much better state of health,
and bore the severity of the beginning of the winter of 1708 so well, that
her friends hoped her constitution was grown stronger than it had been.
But it pleased God, upon the breaking up of the frost, Jauary 27, 1708-9,
that she was seized with a pleuritic fever, the symptoms of which were
not violent at first, nor were her friends at first apprehensive of her dan-
ger; but, her lungs being weak, she sank under the disorder in a few
days, and died February 3, 1708-9. She was buried at Spetchly, by
her former husband, according to a promise she had made him : as ap-
pears by the following clause in her will.
I will that my body be buried in the parish church of Spetchly, in the
county of Worcester, in a vault made for me by my former husband,
Robert Berkely, Esquire, and myself. I order this, to fulfil a promise I
made to him, and not out of any want of respect or kindness to my present
husband, who has by his great kindness and confidence deserved from
me all the gratitude and acknowledgments of love and respect I can
testify.”
“After this brief account,” says the writer of her memoirs, “ of some of
the most remarkable circumstances of her life, in which she must appear
a bright example of the most eminent virtue in a private station, I should
not do justice either to her or to the world, if I did not enlarge a little
more upon her character; in which, if I should be thought to have said
too much by them were not acquainted with her, I am confident what
I say will be judged by them who knew her, to fall below her charac-
ter.”
She knew exactly how to distinguish between the means and the
end of religion ; and was well aware of the necessity of joining them
both together in her practice; so that, as she came up to the strictest
rules of piety in her devotions both in private and public, especially in
her frequent receiving the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, she was also
188 MEMOIRs of MRS. BURNET.
fully persuaded, that she was to maintain a strict government over her
passions, to observe a constant care and watchfulness over her whole con-
duct, and to abound in every good work.
Though she had no skill in the learned languages, yet, by making
the understanding of the Scriptures her chief study, with the help of
English commentators, and the assistance of those clergy with whom
she most frequently conversed, and with whom she often discoursed
about texts of Scripture that were obscure to her, she attained to a great
knowledge in the Divine writings. Though her mind was naturally
inquisitive, her apprehension quick, and her judgment solid, yet she
confined her inquiries to a few things. Accordingly, when she had
made some progress both in geometry and philosophy, she laid those
studies aside, though she had a genius and relish for them. She con-
sidered the “one thing needful,” and applied herself wholly to what
related to it; and even in that, she valued knowledge only as it puri-
fied the mind. Her chief care was, to govern her passions; to mode-
rate her affections to created objects; and to elevate her soul to an entire
resignation and conformity to the holy will of God.
MR. S. ELIZABETH B URY.
MRs. ELIZABETH BURY was born, March 2, 1644, at Clare, in the
county of Suffolk. , Her father was Captain Adams Lawrence, of Lyn-
ton, in Cambridgeshire, a person of good character and great integrity.
He died June 13, 1648. Her mother was Mrs. Elizabeth Cutts, daugh-
ter of Henry Cutts, Esquire, of Clare ; a gentleman learned in the law,
a great peace-maker among his neighbours, and a zealous promoter of
the interests of the gospel. He died August 23, 1657, and his most
eminently religious consort after him, August 5, 1667. His daughter,
the mother of the subject of our memoirs, was a remarkably serious,
heavenly-minded, and experienced Christian, an ornament to her fami-
ly, a blessing to her children, and the delight of all her friends. She
died, full of grace and years, October 6, 1697, aged 78. Such were the
truly respectable and heavenly roots whence Mrs. Bury sprang !
The freedom, ingenuousness, and pleasantness of Mrs. Bury's temper
were ordinarily known to all who conversed with her. She has often
been taken notice of as a person of uncommon parts, ready thought,
quick apprehension, and proper expression. In writing letters she had
a great aptness and felicity of language, so that her correspondence was
greatly valued by some of the brightest minds, even in very distant
countries. Her genius led her to the study of almost every thing; and,
having a fine understanding, accompanied with a very faithful and re-
tentive memory, she soon became a proficient in whatever part of
knowledge she was desirous to attain. She often entertained herself
with philology, philosophy, and ancient and modern history. Some-
times she diverted herself with music, vocal and instrumental; some-
times with heraldry, the globes, and mathematics. She learned the
French tongue, principally for the sake of conversing with French re-
fugees, to whom she was an uncommon benefactress. But she espe-
cially employed herself in perfecting her acquaintance with the Hebrew
language, which, by long application and practice, she had rendered
so familiar and easy to her, as frequently to quote the original in com-
mon conversation, when the true meaning of some particular texts
depended upon it. Very critical remarks upon the idioms and peculiari-
ties of that language were found among her papers after her decease.
Another study in which she took much pleasure, was that of anatomy
and medicine; being led to it, partly by her own ill health, and partly
by a desire of being useful among her neighbours. In this branch of
knowledge she improved so much, that many of the great masters of
the faculty have been often startled, by her stating the most nice and
difficult cases in such proper terms as could have been expected only
from men of their own profession. e
But however she divºrted herself with these parts of literature, yet
her constant, favourite, and darling study was divinity, especially the
Holy Scriptures, having from her very childhood taken God’s testimo-
190 - MEMOIRS OF
nies for her counsellors. In the latter part of her life she devoted most
of her secret and leisure hours to the reading of Mr. Henry's Exposition
of the Bible, whose volumes, she would often say, were the most plain,
profitable, and pleasant books she ever read. Next to the Bible, her
chief delight lay in reading practical divinity ; and the plainer, and
closer, and more penetrating any author was, he was always the more
acceptable to her. But, notwithstanding all her knowledge and unusual
improvements in such a variety of learning, and her deep acquaintance
with the spiritual and most interesting truths of religion, she would
always confess and bewail her own ignorance, and that she knew little to
what others did or what she ought to have known, in any of those matters.
The certain time and particular means of her conversion, she could
not positively determine, but she thought that blessed event took place
about the tenth year of her age. She had been under many convic-
tions some years before ; but she apprehended the effectual work was
not accomplished till that time. But then, she judged, it was indeed
performed; for, though she had many suspicions and jealousies of
her state towards God after that period, yet, upon the most serious
searches, she concluded with herself that she had more ground for hope
than fear.
Her entrance upon a life of religion so young, gave her many oppor-
tunities of glórifying God, of doing much good to others, and of enjoying
large experiences of the Divine grace and faithfulness towards her; and
from the benefit and comfort she found in early religion herself, she al-
ways recommended it with much seriousness, affection, and importunity,
to others. There was something very peculiar in the disposition of her
mind and turn of thought, that adapted itself to the capacity, temper,
genius, and relish of most children. Her first and principal attempt upon
their tender minds, was to bring them in love with their Bibles, to teach
them some short sentences and prayers, and the pleasant histories of
the Scriptures, especially such as concerned children, and then to insi-
nuate herself into their affections, and so instruct, persuade, and oblige
them, by discoursing with them in their own phrase and dialect, as to
render her company very acceptable and delightful to them ; and, by
the grace of God, she by these methods was made very useful to many.
Having set out thus early in the way to Sion herself, and allured and
persuaded all she could into the same path, she held on her own hea-
venly course with great steadiness, resolution, and pleasure; proceeded
from strength to strength; and for the joy that was set before her, went
beyond many of her fellow Christians. She thought it not enough to
begin her work in the morning of life, but she diligently attended to it all
the day. She was always aware of the vigilance of her spiritual enemies,
and this kept her upon her watch. She would always say, “she had
much to do, and that which must be done ; and she knew not how short
her day would be, and therefore she had no time to lose.” She often ob-
served what was said of Jacob, that, after he had met with God, “he
gathered up his feet,”* and went his way; and she thought that she
herself ought to imitate his example. s
It cannot be ascertained when she began her Diary, but it is conjec-
*What is rendered in our translation, Gen. xxix. 1, “Jacob went on his journey, in the
originalis, “He lifted up his feet;” to which this good lady, who was acquainted with the
Hebrew language, evidently refers.
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 191
tured it was about the eighteenth or twentieth year of her age.” In it,
both morning and evening, she strictly observes, with a very happy
variety of expression, the most remarkable providences of God with re-
spect to herself and others, and sometimes in the minutest circumstan-
ces of them—the solemn transactions between God and her own soul
in her closet, in her family, in the sanctuary, and in her daily walk
and converse with others—the substance of what she had read or heard,
that was most affecting in her present case, or might direct her future
practice—her preparations for holy duties—the influences, impressions,
assistance, withdrawings, and consolations of the Spirit of God in them
—her daily infirmities, afflictions, supports, self-examinations, evidences,
and foretastes of eternal life—her advances in religion, and her suspect-
ed decays—the matter of her prayers for herself and others, and the man-
ner, time, and seasonableness of God’s answers—the temper of her soul,
especially on Sabbaths and at sacraments, and on days of solemn fasting
and humiliation, and thanksgiving, public, private, or secret, and on
days she set apart for the trial of herself, and searches into her own soul
—the various scenes of her life, and her comforts and exercises in each
of them—the state of her servants, and of others committed to her care
—her merciful protections in journeys—the directions of Providence as to
all the places of her abode, and the gracious visitations of God to her
soul in all such places—the uncommon events that either befell herself,
or family, or friends, or the church of God—the burdens that pressed
hardest upon her—the joys that most relieved her—the manner and form
of her covenanting with God—the advantage of Christian conversation
—her constant intercession for ministers and their people—her faithful
reproofs—her success with young persons—her concern for the health
and maintenance of the poor—her reflections upon the unwary escapes
of her conversation—her esteem of the Holy Scriptures, learned exposi-
tors and practical writers—her annual recapitulation of mercies, and
sins, and afflictions, and resolutions, and self-dedications—special re-
marks upon days of mercy either to herself or family—the manner of her
entrance upon a new year, &c. But it would be almost impossible to
enumerate the several heads and articles which make up her Diary.
The particulars that have been mentioned, may show its pious nature
and excellent design. In this method she found singular advantage.
She would often say, “that were it not for her Diary, she should neither
know what she was, nor what she did, nor what she had ;” and by re-
course to it in all her afflictions, temptations, and surprises, she gener-
rally found great relief. Let her mind be never so much embarrassed,
and the exercise of reason and grace never so much interrupted, yet, the
review of her former experience was an extraordinary help to future confi-
dence; and thus was she brought again to her great Rock, Refuge, and
Rest, and recovered her usual cheerfulness. Hence also it was, that she
often recommended the keeping a Diary to others, that so God might not
lose the glory, nor they themselves the comfort of their lives.
It was easy to observe a very lively impression of the image of God
* “After that,” says her Biographer and Husband, the Rev. Mr. Samuel Bury, “for be-
twixt twenty and thirty years she concealed her accounts in short-hand, which cannot be re-
covered, because of many peculiar characters and abbreviations of her own. The first I have
athered, begin in the year 1690, with some short references to former years; and from that
fine, she continued her accounts in long-hand, for the most part, to the end of her life.”
&
192 MEMOIRS OF
upon her soul, and the whole train of graces were exhibited in beautiful
exercise through the whole course of her life and actions.
Her humility showed itself in her courteous carriage towards the
poorest persons, and her conversation with them, especially where she
thought she could have any advantage for doing good. Whenever she
appeared before God, her Diary discovers how exceeding vile she was
in her own eyes, and how much she abhorred herself by reason of the
Lerna malorum,” as she often calls it, which she found in her sinful
nature, and which made her a burden to herself. She was also greatly
humbled by observing the condescensions of Divine grace under all her
infirmities. “What grace, and such grace, to me, to unworthy me, to
vile, ungrateful me !” There was nothing that so much affected her
heart as the grace of God to such a sinner.
Her patience was admirable under all the chastisements of her hea-
venly Father. She would often profess her unfeigned submission to all
his discipline. “This,” says she, “ or any other method, Lord, to take
away sin. This flesh shall bear it, and this spirit shall not repine at it. This
is a part of thy covenant, and I am thankful for it. Thou hast done me
good by afflictions, and wilt do me more, and therefore I will glory in
them.” Under the unkind treatment of some whom she had studied to
oblige to the utmost, and whose interests she had often espoused to the
prejudice of her own, she manifested a very exemplary carriage, by keep-
ing the possession of her mind, and rendering them good for all their evil.
Indeed, these trials stuck close to her ; but, by the grace of God, she
was superior to them all ; she eyed God in all, and ever referred her
cause to him.
As to this world, she was very thankful to her Divine Benefactor for
the good provision he had made for her in it; but she often protested,
“ that she would never take it for her portion, since God had tendered
heaven and Himself to her.” The cares, and encumbrances, and vexa-
tions, and especially the sinfulness of the world, had weaned her affec-
tions from it, and raised many restless and almost incessant cries for her
deliverance out of it. She was never elevated with its smiles, unless in
thankfulness to God; and never depressed by its frowns, unless she ap-
prehended that sin was the cause. Her mind, for the most part, was
equal in every state, because she was ever aspiring and longing after her
heavenly country and inheritance. How often would she wish, “O for
those realms of light, and love, and purity l’’
Her love to the souls of others was manifested by her instructions,
examinations, reproofs and counsels, upon all occasions. There were very
few could escape her after some acquaintance with them, but she would
know in what state they were as to religion; and, after she had con-
versed with them, she would earnestly pray for them in her closet, and
be greatly thankful when she found any serious impressions had been
made upon their minds. She constantly bewailed the ignorance, impiety,
profaneness, and immorality she saw, or heard of, in any ; but above all,
, the insensibility, carelessness, and evil practices of the seed of the right-
eous, the children of prayers and vows.
& *The infinity of sins, as this Latin proverb may be rendered. Lerna was a lake near Argos,
in Peloponnesus, where Hercules slew the Hydra, whose heads grew again as fast as they
were cut off Hence Aśown raków, Lerna maiorum. See Ainsworth's Tatin Dictionary of
Proper JNames.
MRS, ELIZABETH BURY. 193
Her love to the truly godly could not but be observed by all. She de-
lighted greatly in their company, regarding them as the excellent of the
earth, how mean and contemptible soever they appeared in the sight
of others. She loved them as the children of God, and fellow-heirs of
the kingdom, would diligently frequent their assemblies for prayer, and
always promote some spiritual conversation, which, if not forwarded by
others, was a disappointment and grief to her. In her Diary, we may
often find her praying that her visits may be made profitable to herself
and others, and that precious time may not be wasted by empty dis-
course, but that she and her companions may be helpers of each other’s
faith and joy, and may have some comfortable conference on the king-
dom of God. She often lamented that the Communion of Saints, which
is an article of the Christian creed, should be so much forgotten by most
Christians; and sometimes, when she returned fron unprofitable con-
versation, she would complain, “that, though she had struck fire so of—
ten, yet, that it always fell upon wet tinder.” She had the interest
of God and religion much more at heart than any private or personal
interest whatsoever.
Her charity to the poor was known to many, especially to the house-
hold of faith, whether natives of her own country, or foreigners. She
spared no pains, and grudged no expenses, in her state of widowhood,
for carrying on her designs for the relief of destitute families exiled for
the sake of religion, for erecting charity-schools for the education of the
poor, for the maintenance of ministers and candidates for the sacred .
office, and for a provision of Bibles and practical books, to be distribut-
ed as she should see occasion. So many long and expensive journeys
had she taken for promoting these charitable designs among her ac-
quaintance, that she sometimes pleasantly remarked upon herself, “that
she had acted the part of a beggar so long, that she was now almost re-
ally one herself.” She very much approved of every person's devoting
a certain part of their estates to pious and charitable uses; “for then,”
says she, they will not grudge to give out of a bag that is no longer
their own.” And as to such as had no children, she thought it was
reasonable they should appropriate a fourth part of their net profits or in-
come, if they could allow it, as she herself did, to such valuable and
necessary purposes.
Faith in Christ, and dependence on the covenant of her God, were
the daily exercise of her soul. Her first and principal care was, to
clear up her interest in Christ and the promises; in doing which she
was cautious and exact. She then prepared and methodized a very
choice collection of promises suited to every state, duty, relation, frame,
temptation, and difficulty. These promises were the food of her faith,
always ready, and from these she derived constant strength and corm-
fort. On these promises she grounded her prayers. She took her
arrows out of God’s own quiver, pleaded with him from his own word,
and wrestled with him in his own strength, for herself and others, in
every ordinance, in every business, in every circumstance ànd turn in
life. Her Diary shows what fast hold she took of God by the promises
of his covenant, and how she kept her hold, sometimes hoping against
hope, till she had baffled temptation, subdued corruption, and surmount-
ed all her difficulties. The aspirings of her faith after Christ, her solemn
dedications of herself to him, and steady recumbency of her soul upon
25
194 MEMOIRS OF
him, as her only rock and refuge, were such as did not appear in com-
mon Christians. It might well be said of her, “O woman, great is thy
faith !” And it was often said to her, in effect, “Be it unto thee even
as thou wilt.”
She always began her day with God, by consecrating her first and
freshest thoughts to him, that she might guard against vanity, tempta-
tion, and worldly discomposures, and keep her heart in tune for the fol-
lowing duties of the day. She always accounted the morning not only
a friend to the Muses, but also to the Graces, and found it the fittest
time for the best services. She never, or very rarely, entered upon any
worldly business till she had begun with God, and given the first-fruits
of the day to him in her closet, by reading, meditation, and prayer, be-
fore the worship of the family; often urging on herself the words of
the psalmist, “My voice shalt thou hear in the morning. O Lord, in
the morning will I direct my prayer to thee, and will look up.”
Psal. v. 3.
When reading, singing, and prayer in the family were over, she con-
stantly returned to her closet, and generally spent most of her morning
there. She first lighted her lamp, as she expressed it, by reading
the Holy Scriptures, for the most part with Mr. Henry’s Annotations.
She diligently compared parallel texts, and took a great pleasure in re-
ducing what she met with in the History of the Bible to its proper time.
She then poured out her soul to God in prayer, with a constant regard
to the intercession of Christ. Through the rest of the day she walked
with God, and was frequently lifting up her heart in ejaculatory prayers
or praises upon any occurrence. In the evening, as early as she could, she
called herself to an account for all that had passed in the day, and insert-
ed the records of herself in her Diary. Having poured out her heart to
God, and committed herself and her all to him, she then cheerfully
joined in the devotions of the family.
Though the people of God were always the people of her choice, she
was often obliged to keep company with others. When she expected to
make a visit to any such, or to receive a visit from them, she frequently
begged of God grace that she might order her conversation aright, and
that she might not be a partaker with others in their sins, but know
how to reprove them, and that she might not suffer others to trifle away
their time, but know how to employ them. She quickly observed the
gifts and graces of others, and endeavoured to draw them out to her
own advantage. She always valued the conversation of ministers,
physicians, and persons of reading and ingenuity, especially such as
had the greatest savour of religion.
She often visited the sick, and relieved the poor, blessing God that she
was in circumstances to give, rather than to receive. When, in her
state of widowhood, she had sometimes given to the last penny, through
the delays of tenants in their payments, she often observes, that speedy
supplies were sent in a very unexpected manner, as if giving to the
poor were the readiest way to bring in the payment of her debts.
Of all company, there was none more offensive or painful to her than
tattlers and talebearers. She could not forbear reproving them, and
often frowned them out of her house. “She had business enough,”
she would say, “ of her own, and therefore did not desire to intermed-
dle with her neighbours.” She durst not defame others, or take up an
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 195
evil report against them, or countenance such who did. She was never
more palled in conversation than in hearing what others did, and what
they had, and what they said, what dresses were worn, what entertain-
ments were given, what company were present, and what discourse pass-
ed among them, and therefore would often say, “How happy would it
be if we might talk of things rather than of persons !” Both her own good
sense and the power of religion carried her soul above such trifles and
impertinences; and they rather gave her disgust than any degree of
pleasure.
Her worldly losses, especially in the latter part of her life, were
many and very great ; but she would say, “The world is not my por-
tion, and therefore these losses cannot be my ruin. I have all in God
now, and shall have all this restored by one mean or another, if not to
myself, yet to those who shall survive me, if God sees it good for us.”
She was frequently exercised with afflictions, even from her youth.
The inclemency of the air, where her own estate lay, and many of her
pious friends and relatives lived, often laid her under a necessity of re-
moving to distant places. She was also no stranger to very sharp
bodily disorders; but, under extremity of pains in her head or breast,
her usual complaints, she ever submitted with exemplary patience and
silence to the sovereign will of God, justifying him in his severest dis-
cipline, and often saying, “she would not for all the world but she had
been afflicted.”
She set a high value upon her time, and especially on those seasons
and opportunities in which the interest of her soul was so nearly concern-
ed; and she thought she never could abound enough in that work which
afforded her the greatest satisfaction. She would often say, “that
she would not lose her morning hours with God, though she was sure
to gain the whole world by it.” She grudged that the poorest labourer
should ever be found at his work before she was at hers. Even from
her youth, she agreed with her servant, under great penalties upon her-
self, that she would rise every morning at four o’clock for her closet ;
“ which was her practice,” says her biographer and husband, “as I
have been told, from the eleventh year of her age ; and at five, to my
own knowledge, if sickness or pain did not prevent her, for betwixt
twenty and thirty of the last years of her life.”
She carefully endeavoured to improve the day in company and conver-
sation with her friends. She was always well furnished with matter for
useful conversation, and could make very happy transitions from world-
ly to serious discourse. But yet, she would often complain of the loss
of much precious time in giving and receiving visits, and would say,
“She could not be satisfied with such a life, in which she could
neither do good, nor receive good, but that she must keep to her closet
and her book.” She often remarked in her Diary, “that she was
entertained very kindly at such and such houses, but no good done to
herself or others.”
Her first marriage was to Griffith Lloyd, Esquire, of Hemingford-Grey,
in Huntingdonshire, on the 1st of February,1667,in the twenty-third year
of her age. He was a gentleman of good reputation and estate, of great
usefulness in his county, while he was in commission of the peace, and
afterwards, as a reconciler of differences, and common patron of the
oppressed. He was a person of a very active and generous spirit, of
196 MEMOIRS OF
great piety, of a singularly good temper, and steady faithfulness to his
friends. They lived together about fifteen years, to April 13, 1682,
when death dissolved the near relation by removing him from our world.
This worthy pair were such patterns of love and harmony, as to be
taken notice of by all their neighbours. Her second marriage was to
the Rev. Samuel Bury, on May 29, 1697, a very worthy and excellent
minister, who survived her.
As a mistress of a family, she was very careful in the choice of her
servants, where she could have a choice. She was always afraid of
strife and contention in her family, lest she should be discomposed in
her own spirit, and the common interest of religion should be obstructed
by intestine jars and disaffection. She never took any person into her
service till she had solemnly prayed to, and pleaded with God, and sub-
mitted herself to his direction. Whenever she treated with any, she
not only acquainted them with the business of their place, but also
with the religious orders of the family, to which she had their explicit
consent. When they were once admitted into her house, it was her
first and constant care to inquire into the state of their souls, to instruct
and catechise, to reprove and encourage them ; to warn them of the
snares and dangers of their age and place; and to enjoin them to take
time for secret prayer, reading the Scriptures, meditation, and self-ex-
amination. She always charged it as a duty upon herself, to discourse
over with her servants every sermon they heard together, especially on
Sabbaths, and to inculcate that upon them in a particular manner, in
which she thought they were much concerned. She sometimes took an
account of them together ; but at other times, when her strength and
health would allow, she examined them singly and apart, that such
who could remember but little, might not be discouraged by those that
could do better, and that she might have a fairer opportunity of closer
application to their particular state, as she saw occasion. By these
means she became a servant to her servants, and she took pleasure
in all her pains with them, though oftentimes to her own extreme
faintness. Her Diary abundantly proves how incessantly she prayed
for them, where we often find her mourning over the unteachableness
of some, lodging her appeals with God as to the sincerity of her en-
deavours to have done them good; and rejoicing over others, that God
had answered her prayers, blessed her instructions, planted them
in families, and made them blessings there. “I cannot remem-
ber,” says her husband, writing concerning her, “any servants that
were ever brought under her care, who had not learned something
of the method of a sermon before they left her; and very many had
their memories improved so far, as to bring home all the particular
heads, though numerous, of the two sermons on the Lord’s-Day.
Whenever she inclined to part with a servant, she always consulted
God in it ; and then she would take the person into her closet, and
very pathetically advise and teach a proper conduct of life, in order that
the servant might be acceptable in other families. And such was the
success of these her religious methods, that I know not of any one
servant she ever had, but was, at first or at last, under some awakenings
of conscience, and spiritual convictions, and seeming resolutions for
God and religion, however they wore off afterwards. It is common with
some of them still, upon every occasion, to speak of their mistress's care
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 197
of them, and prayers for them, when the family was left with her, as,
in the necessary absence of others, was frequently the case.”
If we view her in regard to her relations, we shall find her a constant
sharer with them in all their joys and sorrows. A more sympathetic
spirit is very rarely to be met with. She never ceased to pray for them,
as parts of herself. She often mourned for their sins and afflictions.
She rejoiced in the piety of some, and longed after the conversion and
return of others. When at a distance from her relatives, she had a
happy talent in writing to them; and such were the pertinency, pathos,
and pungency of all her letters, that every one valued them, and was
greatly pleased with them. When she was present with her relatives,
she was ever feeling how the pulse of their souls beat ; she ingratiated
herself into their regard, and instilled something proper into their minds,
observing, persuading, warning, and directing, as she thought neces-
sary. “She has an honourable testimony,” says Mr. Bury, “I believe,
in the consciences of all her relations, who respect her memory, and
own her to be a pattern of great integrity, piety, ingenuousness, and
faithfulness. Her animadversion upon her friends, in the manner
she used to do it, was so far from offending them, that it was oftentimes
very pleasing to them, and begat in them some awful regard to her per-
son, and a true decorum in their own lives.”
Of all orders of men, she had the greatest love for the ministers of
Christ. She coveted their company, that she might improve by it, and
was never better pleased than when her house and her table were filled
with them. She would diligently inquire of them in all her difficul-
ties, and as carefully observe all their directions. She honoured the
aged, the learned, and grave, with a double honour, was often grieved
for the infirmities of others, but despised none for their weakness, if she
apprehended them faithful to God and his interest, and that they had
been useful in their places. She thought it her duty to pray for minis-
ters above all men, as they are concerned in the welfare of so many
souls. That this was her practice, appears from her Diary, from one
end. to the other, and particularly from a remark.she makes of a single
omission. “I have heard a sermon,” says she, “to day, but I forgot
to pray for the minister, and I sped accordingly.” This shows that it
was her custom to pray for every minister before she heard him.
She looked upon the tabernacles of God as truly amiable, which she
had often seen filled with his glory, and where his blessing had been
commanded out of Sion. She constantly attended upon the public or-
dinances, if not debarred by insuperable difficulties, and made it a point
always to be present at the beginning of them. She would often blame
the remissness of many in this respect, and say, “That surely they did
not feel the wants that she did, or else they could not live in such com-
mon neglects.” . There was no preaching so acceptable to her as that
which alarmed her conscience, searched her heart, and came closest
to her in matters in which she most suspected herself.
She greatly disliked a selfish and narrow spirit, and had always a
very generous Christian concern for the public. She had many me-
lancholy thoughts on account of the impiety and profaneness, the im-
morality and licentiousness, of the greatest part of the nation, and the
indifference, formality, and visible declension and apostacies that were
found among the rest. Many private days, either in her closet, or in
198 MEMOIRS OF
some unobserved apartment abroad, she devoted to fasting and prayer,
either on account of the distresses of foreign churches, or the dangers
of our own. She would always bless God when the State appointed
any public fasts, and looked upon them as presages of good to the
church and nation. She bore her part in them with great fervency
and zeal, after she had very solemnly prepared for them on the preced-
ing day. The searches she made into her heart and life upon those
days, were deep, strict, and impartial ; her confessions were particular,
and full ; and her resolutions for future conduct were very solemn, but
always with a special dependence upon the grace of God to make them
effectual. The success of those fasts is frequently observed in her Diary
upon proper occasions.
Besides her common concern for the good of all men, and her special
regard to her family and relations, she would show upon all occasions,
when her own health would allow it, a very compassionate concern for
the sick and afflicted. Though in some cases it was very noisome and
dangerous, yet, she took a pleasure in visiting the sick, as it gave her
an opportunity of inquiring into the state of their souls, and impressing
upon their minds the concerns of religion, and improving the alarms of
God upon their consciences for future watchfulness and reformation.
However matters appeared to her upon such private inquiries and con-
versation with any, she would always afterwards bring their cases into
her closet, spread them before the Lord, pray them over, and observe
what answers were given to her supplications. How much knowledge
and skill soever she attained in the practice of physic by long observa-
tion, conversation, and experience, yet, she was always very distrustful
of herself in any chronical cases, and could hardly be persuaded to
direct without better advice, till the poverty of her patients, and their
great importunity, compelled her to it. When God gave her success,
she always acknowledged it with great thankfulness to him, that he
should own so weak an instrument for the preservation of human lives.
The instances of such success, in most places where she had lived, were
not easily numbered. ºr "
She always abhorred flattering others, or being flattered herself. She
thought that as evil speaking moved men to sin, so, that evil silence
left them in sin. It was not to create uneasiness to others, or from an
officiousness in matters that did not concern her, or because she thought
herself more capable of doing it, that she reproved any, but because she
apprehended that others for the most part very sinfully neglected it,
and that the honour of God, and the credit of religion, in the mean
time, suffered by the omission. She judged that she, as well as others,
was bound in conscience not to “ hate” her brother by letting sin lie
upon him, but “in any wise to reprove him” for it. She considered
this salutary liberty as an evidence of true Christian love to others;
and therefore, having begged of God to guide her tongue, to move their
hearts, and restrain their passions, she would, in great tenderness, at a
proper season, with much plainness and freedom, tell them of their faults,
and plead with them concerning them. Younger persons, and her infe-
riors, if the case required it, were reproved with some severity and smart-
ness, but others with much meekness, moderation, and modesty. If it
at any time so happened, that she took this liberty with ministers, she
would always preface her addresses to them in the Apostle's words;
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. I99
“Rebuke not an elder, but entreat him as a father, and young men
as brethren,” 1 Tim. v. 1. There were not wanting instances of great
success in this her freedom tempered with modesty; and some have
thanked and honoured her on the account as long as she lived. Nor
was she more ready to give than to take reproof. She ever reckoned
them her truest friends who used the greatest liberty with her in this
respect; and, when in any thing she appeared to be blameworthy, she
would acknowledge it with an ingenuous concern, and often profess
that she had not taken notice of it in herself, but that she would en-
deavour after a greater circumspection for time to come.
She always called the Sabbath “a delight, holy of the Lord, and
honourable.” She was very uneasy if worldly business was not de-
spatched in time, that the Sabbath might be remembered before it came.
She endeavoured to awake with God, and possess her mind at first with
proper thoughts, that might prepare her for the work that was to follow.
She presently engaged in secret prayer, to bespeak the Divine presence
and assistance through the day. She then read and sang, as she had
time, before family-worship began. When that was over, she retired
again to read, sing, and pray; and, as has been before observed, had a
constant remembrance of the minister, that God would grant him as-
sistance, and success to his labours. As she was up early on the Sab-
bath, so she was not only always out early, but her whole family with
her; not so much regarding the dressing of her own dinner as the ad-
vantage of her servants’ souls. When public ordinances were over,
she always withdrew for meditation; she next examined her servants,
and inculcated upon them what they had heard; then she prayed in
her closet before family worship ; and after that, filled up the spaces
of the evening with spiritual and edifying discourses.
She was never more pleased in any ordinance than that of singing,
as she had a natural love to music, and a good understanding and skill
in it. But yet, a concord of voices could not satisfy her without an
agreement and harmony of heart with what was sung. Hence a
smart remark upon herself in her Diary: “In such a place I was so
charmed with the novelty and sweetness of the tune, that I had sung
several lines before my heart was concerned in what I was doing.”
As to sacraments, she always showed a most religious regard to them,
in obedience to the precept, and in a sense of interest; “and for twenty-
three years together,” says Mr. Bury, “I never knew her absent from
one, if bodily illness did not prevent her.” She durst not rush upon
that sacred ordinance of the Lord's Supper without a serious and solemn
preparation for it. She carefully examined and proved her graces, her
faith, love, repentance, and the like, and could not be satisfied only
with former trials. She made diligent search into her heart and life, to
make a discovery of her sins, in order to confess and bewail . before
God in secret. For this purpose she read over the Commandments,
and some expositor upon them, that she might better know the duties
required, and the sins forbidden in each of them, with their several
aggravations. She then read over her Diary, and more especially re-
flected upon the sins she had been guilty of since the last sacrament,
that she might pray, and guard against them for the future. When
she had thus prepared herself, and endeavoured to excite her graces for
their proper exercises, she never dared to trust to her own preparations,
200 MEMOIRS OF
but relied wholly on the power, merits, and mediation of the Lord Jesus
Christ, for acceptance and success. In his strength she was strong,
and went forth with longing expectations of much grace and consola-
tion in that banquet of love; and she seldom failed of the enjoyment
of what she had prayed and hoped for. She then attended the ordinance
in an humble sense of her own vileness, with an awful regard to the
majesty of God, and with great fear and caution, lest any worldly trifle
should carry off her heart from its proper work. Her faith fixed upon
Christ to receive, and apply, and appropriate him, and to live upon his
fulness. Her love was engaged with great intenseness and ardour
upon God the Father, and the Son, for the discovery of such infinite
kindness and grace in the redemption of man, and the blessings of
an everlasting covenant; so that she often in her Diary appeals to God
concerning the sincerity of her love to him. “Lord, if I love not thee,
I love nothing—I love not my friends; I love not myself; I love not
any thing in heaven, or on earth, if I love not thee.” Her heart, also,
in this holy ordinance, was melted for sin, while she looked upon that
Saviour whom she had crucified, and upon all the scenes of his sorrows
from his Father, from men, and from devils. Nor did any thing more
invigorate her prayers, and resolutions, and covenants against sin, than
the love of God to her, and her reciprocal love to him. When the
blessed sacrament was over, she would not suffer herself to be diverted,
but constantly withdrew to her closet, to bless God on her knees for what
she had done, and for what she had received, and to entreat forgiveness
for her failings, the continuance of present pious impressions, and grace
to be faithful for the time to come.
She was truly a praying person, and one who gave herself to prayer;
and, in the Scripture sense, she prayed always. She would often say,
“she would not be hired out of her closet for a thousand worlds.” She
never enjoyed such hours of pleasure, and such free and intimate com-
munion with God, as she experienceed there. She wondered how any
persons could live without prayer, and deprive themselves of one of the
greatest privileges that was ever vouchsafed to the children of man.
Her gift in prayer was very extraordinary, as many have observed
when the care of the family devolved upon her; and, as her excellent hus-
band and biographer observed, when upon some peculiar occasions they
have prayed together in secret. He has been “struck,” as he declares,
with wonder, “at the freedom and aptness of her language; at the warmth
and vigour of her affections; at her humble confidence in God; and her
strong expectations of blessings from him, when she poured out her soul
to him in that duty.” With satisfaction and cheerfulness she would
leave all her own complaints, and all the difficulties, grievances, and
distresses of others, with her God; thus casting her burdens upon the
Lord, and finding rest for her soul in him. She never determined any
doubtful cases with respect to herself, her friends, or her family, till she
had first asked counsel of God; and then, whatever she resolved in her
closet, upon that direction she was always unalterably fixed.
Many merciful returns of prayers she observes in her Diary. Some-
times God answered her upon her knees, while she was praying; either
in the recovery of the sick, whose lives were despaired of by others ; or
in ease to the pained, when in their paroxysms and acutest agonies; or
in comfort to the dejected, when under the gloomiest apprehensions
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 201
and most afflicting confusions; or in relief to the poor, when in the
deepest distresses; or in extinguishing the violence of flames, when the
towns where she lived have been in the greatest danger of being laid in
ashes. In the last case, that of fire, she always retired upon the first
alarm, “being incapable,” as she used to say, “ of giving any other as-
sistance in that calamity than by prayer.” At other times, she ob-
serves in her Diary, how long she waited for God’s answers. “At such
a time,” she notes, “I prayed, and such a time God graciously heard my
prayer ;” and she concludes, “Surely this was mercy worth praying
and waiting for.” She would often remark the seasonableness of the
Divine mercies, and how much better they were in God's time of giving
them, than they would have been at the first time of her asking them.
And sometimes she would very thankfully own the wisdom and good-
mess of God, when, in the result of things, she found she had prayed for
what it had not been honourable for God to give, and would have been
hurtful to herself or others to receive.
It is not to be told, upon how many occasions she thus addressed her-
self to God, or how often she opened the treasures of grace by this key
of prayer. It is most certain, that an application to the throne of mer-
cy was her daily refuge, and her daily relief in every distress. If she
did not always obtain what she asked in temporals, she owns she had an
equivalent or better; and God fully satisfied her of the reasonableness
of his denials. As to her trials and temptations, she acknowledges with
great gratitude to God, “that she had either present deliverances, or grace
sufficient for the most part, to resist, and power at last to overcome.”
The motto in her closet for many years, in Hebrew characters, was
“Thou, Lord, seest me;” hereby plainly intimating her awful adora-
tion of the omniscience of God, that her eye of faith should be always
upon him, and that she would ever act under the influence of the per-
suasion that God was present, whether in reading, prayer, meditation, self-
inquiry, or in recording the solemn transactions that passed between him
and her soul in her closet. She had this motto always before her, that
as often as she entered into her closet, and as long as she continued
there, and in every duty she performed, it might be a memorial to her,
that every sin, and folly, and instance of her departure from God, was
perfectly known to him ; that every penitent confession, tear, and groan,
were in his sight, and under his hearing; and that every prayer, and pur-
pose, and vow, and solemn obligation made, and renewed, and ratified
in her closet, were sacred and awful, as under the eye and notice of an
all-seeing and heart-searching God. This motto, she often found, had
greatly restrained her from sin, had excited her to duty, had disposed
her for comfortable communion with God, and kept her from trifling in
the place of her sacred retirement.
The great work of this pious gentlewoman’s life, was a readiness for
death. She began this work early, and she pursued it daily, and with
great and growing success. She often took a review of the several
ages of her life, and very penitentially bewailed the sins of her child-
hood and youth, as well as of her riper years, to the end of her days.
“It was in her youth, I think,” says her husband, about the twentieth
year of her age, that God gave her the sure pledges of his love, and the
clear evidence of her title to etermal life ; and for fifty-six years after she
lived in comfortable communion with God, and the joyful expectation
~,
26 *
202 MEMOIRS OF
of the promised inheritance. She carefully laid her foundation at first
in God’s covenant with Christ and with sinners in him, and her own cor-
dial consent to that covenant, and then built upon the promises of God,
and the righteousness, merits, and mediation of the Lord Jesus Christ.
She would often say, ‘ that, though it should sometimes rain in at the
roof, she must not therefore pluck up the foundation, or suspect her safety
from every shock, or flaw, or failure, in the course of her life and actions.’”
For some of the last years of this exemplary Christian’s life, she found
herself in a declining state, and was always waiting for her dismission.
The clearness of her thought, the vigour of her mind, and the strength
of her memory, continued to the last ; but, as she was often oppressed
with bodily infirmities, and had many wearisome days and nights ap-
pointed her, she was the more desirous of entering into her eternal rest.
And now, after a course of such eminent piety, vigilant and daily pre-
paration for death, and fervent desires for her dismission from the body,
let us attend her to her closing scene.
On the 3d of May, 1720, as she and Mr. Bury, her husband, had
just entered into a friend’s house, where they were to have dined, she
was immediately struck with an exquisite pain in one of her ears, which
presently caused such a deaſiness, as to render her unconversable ; upon
this, she desired to withdraw, and went home. Her deafness continu-
ing, a pleuritic ſever soon followed, and, after that, a lethargy, which in
part deprived her friends of that heavenly discourse they promised them-
selves they should have heard from her upon her death-bed.
In former illnesses, when she herself, and every one else, thought her
under the sentence of death, she was always so far above it, though
she was naturally of a very timorous spirit, that she triumphed over it,
and sang, “O death ! where is thy sting'ſ O gravel where is thy victory !
Thanks be to God, who gives me the victory, through our Lord Jesus
Christ ſ”—“I am fighting,” she would say, under the great Captain of
my salvation, and can bid defiance to all the powers of hell, and boldly
encounter Satan in his own kingdom l—I am now in the dark valley,
but I see light at the end of it, and the gate of heaven stands open. O
let me go into endless love, and live that sinless life —When, Lord,
shall I come to thee 'l Almost gone, and yet I cannot go —O my dear
friends, why so cruel '! What should I live any longer for 'ſ My work is
done, and why would you not have me go to rest ! Give me up, I entreat
you, to God, and do it cheerfully. My constant prayer has been, to be al-
ways waiting and hoping; and this is my present frame.—It is an abun-
dant answer to all your prayers for me, that I have peace, and hope,
and comfort, without any doubt, or fear, or any suspicious thought of
my salvation.—I am sure I have not flattered myself in the trial of my
state, nor been superficial in it, and I am fully persuaded that God will
not deceive me.—I am my Beloved's, and my Beloved is mine. It is
but one struggle; and better now, if God sees fit, or else I have all this
to do again. —Father! into thine handslet me commend my spirit.”—She
would with pleasure feel her faltering pulse, and say, “When wilt thou
beat thy last 4 It is not death yet, but, blessed be God, it is pretty near
it.—I hope I shall not return to labour, and sorrow, and sin again.-O
that I had the wings of a dove . Then would I fly away and be at
rest ſ”—She would often add, “We have need of patience, that, after
we have done the will of God, we might inherit the promises.
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 203
In her last illness, she had the same steadfast faith and strong con-
solation she had before experienced, but amore difficult passage out of life
than what was expected. It was concluded, by her lamentable groans
for some days together, that her pains had been quite exquisite ; but
when she was asked concerning herself, she generally answered, “I feel
but little pain, only am restless.” Her cold and excessive sweats
continued for many hours together, and were not more profuse in them-
selves, than affecting to others. Though the nature of her distemper
prevented her from speaking much, yet, what she did speak, was af.
ways rational and spiritual. Her mind was not only calm and sedate,
but very placid and cheerful, as oft as she awoke. “O my God,” said she,
“I wait for thy salvation —This day I hope to be with Christ in para-
dise.—The promises of God are all yea and amen in Christ Jesus; and
here my faith lays hold, and here it keeps its hold.”
On the 11th of May, she prayed her friends with much entreaty to
detain her no longer by their prayers, but to resign up her soul to God;
“ which,” says Mr. Bury, “we did, with as much earnestness as ever
we had asked her life before. Such are God’s ways to wean us from our
dearest enjoyments in this world.” About ten o’clock that night, the
prisoner was released from all her bonds, and obtained a glorious free-
dom. Her heaven-born soul took wing for the realms of light, and was
bid welcome into the joy of her Lord.
She had often made it her prayer to God, that she might come off
honourably in her last encounter, so that neither religion might be dis-
credited, nor her friends discouraged, by any thing that should then be
observed in her; and, as God had abundantly answered so many of her
prayers before, so he very graciously answered her in this request, for
such were the free and lively exercises of her faith and love, that they
entirely triumphed over all fears, and carried her with a full sail into the
port of glory. To the great comfort of her surviving friends, she left this
world at last, “without either sigh, or groan, and with the pleasantest
smile that was ever observed in her countenance before.”
Mr. Bury, her husband, who drew up an account of her life, has
made a very large collection of excellent passages from her Diary. We
must content ourselves with only some few extracts from what he has
more diffusively communicated.
“1690, Sept. 27. When I was nine or ten years old, I first began
the work of self-examination, and begged the all-searching God to try,
and discover me to myself; and I think I may date my conversion about
that time.
“I have kept an account of my trials of myself since 1670; and
though my undutiful, ungrateful returns have filled each examination
with just and bitter complaints, yet, upon twenty years’ review, to the
glory of free grace, I take it the case has stood thus with me :
“My judgment has esteemed God, even in his holiness, the most desira-
ble good; and I would be a partaker of his holiness, whatever it cost
me; and I have generally been willing and thankful for the smartest
discipline in hope of that desired effect; and I would still be more holy,
though by sickness, pain, or any other affliction; having always ac-
counted sin the greatest evil, and now for many years my bitterest af-
fliction, though in some hurries I have not felt the most sensible mourn-
ings for it.
204 MEMOIRS OF
y-
“As I have chosen God for my portion, so, I stand by my choice, and
rejoice in it above all the world; and, through his grace assisting me,
I resolve never to forsake him, though I die for it, which I shall never
do without extraordinary aids, having no natural courage. I have
chosen the path of God’s precepts as the means to this end, and have de-
liberately, entirely, and joyfully given myself to Jesus Christ, the way,
the truth, and the life; and his love I prefer to all the world ; and by
many sweet, though too short experiences, I have found his love lifting
tap my heart above all earthly enjoyments, and sometimes making it
joyful under pain and trouble, which has hinted the power of his pre-
vailing love, and made me hope it will cast out fear, if he calls me to
martyrdom.
“My hope is in God through Christ; and all I have I would part
with, rather than with his love, and the interest I hope I have in it.
“My desires are after him above gold, health, friends, honour, &c.
I long to have fuller communion with Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
here, and the uninterrupted communion of heaven.
“My sorrow and anger are usually most intense against sin, though
too violent torrents of them have been often spent on my sufferings.
“My hands, feet, head, and heart, follow not as I would. My life
is stained and blotted with daily sins; yet, God knows I loathe them.
I find daily defects in my duties, yet, I have a respect to all God’s com-
mandments. O wretched creature I Sin still dwells in me. I cannot
do the things I would, but I would upon any terms be rid of sin. I sin
daily, but I daily sorrow for, and hate sin, and fly to the fountain open-
ed, which alone can cleanse me.
“I forsake and renounce the devil’s dominion; and as I have receiv-
ed the Lord Jesus Christ, so I watch, and pray, and strive to walk,
after his will, and holy example.
“The world gets near me, and about me, and I am too ready to fol-
low and serve its pleasures and conveniences; but it is more solid joy
to my soul to say, “that Christ is mine,” than to be able to say, “this
kingdom, this world, yea, all that I ever loved, are mine.”
“My own righteousness I abhor. The best, the most perfect, the
most sincere service I ever did, or hope to do, gives me no hope of accep-
tance but in and through Christ.
“O Lord, Jehovah, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, thou art my por-
tion. Whatever this flesh would have, Lord, let me be thine at any rate.
Truly I am, and would, and will be thy servant by choice and consent,
whatever thou givest me, or whatever thou deniest me. O how bounti-
fully has God dealt with me, while he has loved me from death to life.
“Lord Jesus ! thou art my way to the Father, my only Mediator.
I have accepted thee to teach and rule, as well as save my guilty soul.
I cry as loud for purifyingas for pacifying grace. I am willing to be
kept from mine iniquity. I except no darling sin from thine iron rod.
I ask no mercy for it, nor would I show it any.
“I approve and subscribe to all thy precepts, as holy, just, and good;
as best for me at all times, and in all conditions. Let my heart be
searched, and I will love the word that searches it. I account thy law
my liberty. Thou hast drawn, and I have run. Thou hast made thy
word my love, delight, and study, and it is the sincere bent of my life
to keep it. O that I might keep it to the end
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 205
“1692, February 19. Ashamed and sad in the consideration of the
wonderful structure of my house of clay, inhabited by an immortal spirit,
capable of reflection, &c. yet, both so long utterly useless to my Crea-
tor's glory, still so little answering the noble intentions to which body
and soul were most wisely and righteously directed; yet, adoring the
Divine bounty, pity, and patience, that pardon, adopt, and sanctify such
an unworthy creature, I resigned body and soul entirely to him who
made them, begging a willing, happy dissolution.
“1692, March 20. Faint, yet pursuing ; dull, yet adoring ; impure,
yet loathing ; wandering, yet returning; going to the fountain opened
to be purified from all sin. O that this day may begin my eternal
hallelujah !
“1692, July 19. All the world never gave me such satisfying de-
light as this morning’s communion with God. And whence is this to
me, that my Lord will thus visit, revive, and cherish his poor, dull, lan-
guishing, unworthy child ! O what shall the full, assimilating, eternal
immediate vision of my God be
“1692, September 1. My delight soon abated. It is April weather
with me. I am still on a floating island. Lord! when shall I dwell on
the continent (of rest and joy 1)
“1693, February 16. Continual violent pains render me incapable of
reading, prayer, or meditation ; yet, I am willing to undergo any disci-
pline for the removal of the spiritual maladies under which I labour.
Strike, Lord, so thou still healest; wound for my cure, and spare not.
“1693, May 6. Reflecting on my sinful soul from my childhood to
this day, I find my heart humbled with amazing sorrow for what I still
remember, and of which I still feel the remainders. I am astonished
at the patience of God, in whose sight all my past sins, both what are
remembered, and what are forgotten as to me, are still present; and yet,
he waits to be gracious to an ungrateful and rebellious creature. I ac-
knowledge I deserve nothing, but hell, but yet fly to the mercy of God
offered in Christ, and beg that he would deal with my sins after his own
hatred of them, and show mercy to me, a miserable sinner, according to
the tenor of his gracious covenant in Christ Jesus.
“ 1693, May 7. Thy vows, O God, are upon me, and my resolutions
are renewed to be more thine than ever; but the grace and strength to
perform them, are thine. Lord, give what thou commandest, possess
what thou hast purchased, and perfect what thou hast begun
“ 1696, August 4. O how much better than life, or any thing in
life, is the loving-kindness of God, so sweetly, so evidently, so abun-
dantly manifested to my soul this morning ! Lord, how free how full,
how humble and ingenuous my confessions, when thine Holy Spirit
indites them, and grants me his assistance What a view of sin what
melting shame and sorrow ! what tears of love what delight ! what
panting after more grace what calm and joyful acquiescence in what
was once dreaded discipline ! what cheerful, unreserved resignation 1
Lord, how long have I struggled in vain for what of thy free bounty
thou hast given in one hour ! Lord, keep it ever on my heart!
“1697, January 3. God taught me to pray, and heard my prayer.
He assisted his messenger to draw the bow with full strength, and to
cry to him to direct the arrows. Lord, I look, and will wait for some
of the arrows from thy quiver this day to stick fast in my own soul, and
206 MEMOIRS OF
the soul of others. I bless thy name for sweet directions to live on an-
other’s life, to satisfy by another’s righteousness, and to act in another’s
strength. Lord, strengthen thy weak creature
“1697, March 20. I made a search into my heart, before the Sacra-
ment, with respect to the nature and effects of true faith; and I find I
am glad of the discovery even of such truths as most directly strike at
my strongest heart-sins and most violent inclinations. I am as glad of
the threatesings, that powerfully work on me for my reformation, as of
the promises that refresh me. I embrace the promises with delight; and
find, through free grace, a spiritual taste and relish in the food of life,
such as sometimes quite weans me from the love of the world, and gives
me great peace of conscience, joy in the Holy Ghost, and love to Christ's
second appearing. I find good hope, through grace, that I live by the
faith of the Son of God, who gave himself for unworthy me; for I de-
light in his word above my appointed food. It has been in some mea-
sure of an assimilating nature. I hope I have attained to some, and I
pray and labour for more growth in universal, uniform obedience to all
God’s commands. I depend on the perfect righteousness of Christ; and
must own, that from the beams of that Sun of Righteousness I have re-
ceived a gracious illumination and powerful inclination upon my soul
to all good—a tender sympathy for the most part with the church of
God, even when my particular state inclines me to a contrary temper—
and a free use of spiritual senses, seeing the light of God more perfectly
and frequently than usual, hearing his word with delight, tasting his
mercies with comfort, and feeling and mourning under the wounds and
pressures of sin. I love Divine truths, not so much because they are pro-
portionable to my desires, but because they are conformable to God. I
resolve in all estates to rely on God’s mercy and providence. I wholly
renounce all trust in myself, or in any concurrence of my own, naturally,
in any good. I build not my hopes or fears on men, nor make them or
myself the end or rule of my desires. I indulge no known sin. I have
no known guile. I allow not the least sin or appearance of evil. I hate
the first risings of sin, and bitterly regret the least, the first, the most
unavoidable thought, that rebels against the Divine law.
“1698, June 22. A cheerful morning this; my heart appealing to
God, that Christ is my choice, religion my business, the Holy Scripture
my rule, heaven my design, the saints my beloved companions, and
the ordinances my delight, when I meet with God in them.
“ 1706, October 25, 26. I set closely to examine my state, and
begged of God to discover whatever mistake I might have been under
in my former trials, which I reviewed. Mr. Wines distinguishes the true
Christian from an hypocrite by the following marks:
“1. ‘A true Christian's hatred against sin, and his liking to God,
arise from an inward nature, or principle.” Lord, my conscience does
not reproach me when I say, I hate the whole species of sin, and what-
ever appears sinful to me. I love the whole law of God, and my
soul pants daily for more conformity.
“2. ‘The inward man of a Christian is made up of Christ.” Lord,
thou knowest that the little knowledge of faith in Christ, and tastes of
Christ I have experienced, have made me hate and mourn for sin, and
love Christ, and that I fight against sin in his strength. I have known
the teachings of God, and love my adorable Lord Jesus Christ for him-
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 207
self. My repentance and sorrow for sin are most pungent, when I am
under the power of love. I desire grace for service, as well as salvation.
“3. “True grace casts out self-love.” Grace comes from, and
draws the soul into, union with Christ. Lord! I love my soul and body,
when they love and serve thee. I hate that either should dishonour
thee. I am willing to deny myself any thing for thee. Yet, I fear
too much indulgence of myself by sloth and love of ease.
“4. ‘To love and seek God for himself, is above the power of all
common gifts.” O Lord, thou hast enabled my soul to love thee for
thy glorious excellencies and perfections, as well as for thy redeeming
love, though not always so distinctly as I would. From these and such
like evidences, upon the most diligent search I can make, I dare not
but conclude I am a sincere Christian, and no hypocrite.
“ 1707, April 20. Sweet was this morning’s retirement in reading
Num. xxi. Lord, what encouragement is there in looking to Jesus,
for healing (the wounds occasioned by) the flaming stings of sin in my
soul | What my tears cannot quench, my exalted Saviour can. O send
thy Spirit, (alluding to Numbers xxi. 17,) to be a well of life in my
soul | Spring up, O well, this day, and cause me to sing to it, and let
poor diseased souls be healed in the waters of the sanctuary 1
“ 1707, August 17. I go to this holy feast (the Lord’s Supper) for
increase of faith, that I may more clearly apprehend Divine truths, and
be more distinct and firm in the assurances of them ; that my consent
to the covenant may be more free, resolved, and delightful ; that my
love may be more inflamed ; and that I may be more patient in suffer-
ing, and more diligent in doing the will of God. I depend on the suf-
ficient grace of God, for strength in all duties, for wisdom to direct me,
and for victory over sin and temptation | Help, Lord, under all afflic-
tion, and in my last change | Strengthen my faith, patience, and dili-
gence, by this ordinance
“ 1710, July 16. I was grieved to read that assertion of Popinus
and Quintinus, in Calvin’s time, ‘that the only mortification required of
sinners, was to extinguish the sense of sin in their heart.” But
surely, this is to mortify repentance, not sin; to kill the new man, not the
old; to outface conscience, and not to quiet it! Surely, where there is
sin, there must and will be trouble !
“1712, June 17, to July 9. In the evening, (June 17,) about seven
or eight o’clock, I was seized with a violent rigour upon my nerves,
which lasted all night; and next morning a fever succeeded, which
so much affected my head, that I was incapable of directing those about
me what to do with me. Yet, so graciously did God hear my daily
and last supplication in secret, that I was willing rather to depart, and
be with Christ, and had not one cloud, doubt, or fear of death, through
the whole sickness. The disease appeared desperate, and no hope of
my life from human help remained. But my dear relations ceased not
to pray, and call on others to join; and many, from whom I expected
not so great a share of affection, were much enlarged in prayer for
me; and the Lord was entreated to spare a poor, sinful, unworthy,
unprofitable creature, and say, Return; while strong men bowed under
the same disease, and fell down slain, though they had the same phy-
sicians, and had the same means used for them as myself. So, Father,
it has seemed good in thy sight ! Thy will be done But what shall
208 MEMOIRS OF
. I render, what shall I do | I am thankful for life. It is the gift of
God. It is given in answer to prayer. But, Lord, if I improve it not
for thy glory, how sad shall I be 1 Thou knowest, I had no desire to
live but for better service. And shall I be called from a seeming abun-
dant entrance into glory, again to struggle with flesh and blood, the
world, and the devil, and not be made more than conqueror through
the Captain of my salvation ? O Lord, on thee, through thy assistance,
did I cast my sinful soul and diseased body, when I thought them part-
ing asunder, without any reluctant thought ; and shall I distrust thy
power or love in what thou hast yet for me to do or suffer. Strengthen
my faith by this experience of thy power and goodness, for Jesus his
sake, whom thou hearest always.
“ 1713, March 22. I cannot deny, O Lord, the marks of a true love
to thee. I value thee above all, and verily hope I can part with all for
thee. I am sure I have a love for ordinances, and a thirst after thyself;
that there is no pleasure so great to me as communion with thyself, and
no grief so lasting and so pungent as distance and estrangement from
thee. I have not ordinarily any hard thoughts of thee. I am sure
I allow of none. I have a filial fear of offending thee, especially when I
enjoy thy smiles. I can mourn heartily for grieving thee, when thou
art evidencing to me thy pardoning love. My studied, allowed, and
most pleasant meditations, are on thee. I choose thine interest, and
would ever prefer it to my own. I love thy memory, and to commemo-
rate thy dying love at thy table. I commend thy love to all others ; but
O that I did it more feelingly and fervently I am grieved when thy
name is profaned, though I am not valiant enough in resenting the
affront. I would obey all thy commandments more sincerely, freely,
and constantly, in the most difficult articles, and the most dangerous
seasons. Lord, help me ! Eternal God-man, I love thy person, as well
as thy benefits. I love thy sweet dispositions and aim at a likeness,
but attain too little. I adore thee as the Son and Servant of God, as my
Redeemer, Husband, and Advocate. I would submit, and be faithful,
loyal, and loving. I adore thy suitableness. I feel my need of thee, and
accept thee in all thy offices. I adore and love thee for all thy graces,
and strive to imitate them. I adore and love thee for all thine ordi-
nances, in which thou hast often shown me thine unparalleled love. .
“ 1714, September 30. O Lord, who seest into the secret recesses of
my heart, thou knowest my most ardent desires are after more holiness,
and resemblance to thyself. Thou gavest this thirst not to torment
thy creature. Thou hast pronounced a blessing to it, and promised
that it should be satisfied. But yet, how little do I find my soul as yet
conformed to thine image and will ! Lord, shall I have the name of
thy child so many years, and yet no more of thy nature | O that I
were more meek, merciful, humble, thankful, patient, ready to giveſ,
and to forgive O Lord, I have chosen thee for my portion, and verily
hope thou art and wilt be my everlasting felicity; and yet what little
selfish designs and thoughts possess my mind I know and daily feel,
there is nothing in this world can satisfy my soul ; and yet, every little
disappointment in the creature discomposes my spirit. I feel this earthly
tabernacle falling; and yet, what little joy do I find in the prospect of
my house in heaven! Lord, what unaccountable contradictions are there
in my deceitful heart | O search, and heal me !
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 209
“ 1715, July 31. I went out in hope of some revival, and heard some
of the sermon,” and my heart answered the marks of a deliberate, free,
humble, thankful, cordial, unlimited consent to be the Lord’s. I renounce
all others, and love to love and obey him. I love his precepts, and had
rather conform to them all, than be pardoned for my breaking any of
them. I submit to his discipline, but cannot be so cheerful under, or
thankful for it, as I ought. Lord, help me, that I may neither despise
thy chastening, nor faint when I am rebuked of thee I adore and love
all thy perfections, even thy justice, power, and sovereignty. I know
thy goodness is commensurate to all, and is thy glory. I adore and take
thee for my portion here, and for ever. I desire no other portion, but
more of thyself, and then I have a goodly heritage. I like and love thy
people, though weak, and infirm, and with spots, as I have. I love thy
institutions, and long to enjoy thee in all ordinances, and to imitate thee
in holiness, justice, goodness, and patience. Lord, thou knowest this
to be my love, and choice. Thou madest me consent, and therefore I
hope thou hast chosen me, poor, vile, impotent creature; for thou ‘be-
trothest in righteousness’ to thy covenant (Hosea ii. 19) with thy Son,
my Redeemer. He has paid my debts to thy justice, and thou wilt not
require a second payment. Thou ‘betrothest” also ‘in judgment,’
(Hosea ii. 19,) on mature counsel. Thy gifts and callings are without
repentance. Thou foresawest all events, and how often I should abuse
thy mercy, and grieve thy Spirit, and yet, ‘betrothedst in judgment.”
O adorable pure love and kindness, to betroth a creature so vile by birth,
so deformed, so lame, so blind, so weak, so poor, and yet proud! O the
multitude of mercies original and actual, first and continued mercies, in
this espousal ‘Betrothed' also ‘in faithfulness,” (Hosea, ii. 20;) though
subject on my part to so many infirmities, and worse transgressions, yet,
in “faithfulness.” Though I sin, and thou correctest, yet, thy faithful
covenant fails not. Theu wilt never cast me off, and I shall never de-
part from thee. Amen. º
“ 1715, October 2. Lord, melt my dull heart with the distinguish-
ing, unparalleled kindness always shown to unworthy me, in watering
my fleece while the ground has been dry around me. O the riches of
immortal grace | If I outlive my senses, I cannot outlive my graces ! O
how beautiful, how honourable, how durable !
“1716, October 6. Not so much watchful over my tongue as I
ought to have been, having told a fault of a member of the congrega-
tion to another before I had told the guilty. I begged pardon for this,
and resolve on more watchfulness over my words for the future.
“ 1716, December 31. Very sweet the Sabbaths and all the sacra-
ments of the year have been. I have received many gracious answers
of prayers for myself and sick friends. And now, Lord, I acknowledge
the sweetness of following thy conduct, relying on thy strength, and
depending on thy word. I also acknowledge the pleasantness of thy
ways; only my slips in, and stepping out of thy paths, have made all
the bitterness of the year. Lord, enable me to keep the resolution of
the year, to leave every circumstance of my future life and death in
thine hands, to be watchful over my words, and to do to others as I
would they should do to me !
* A partial deafness was now upon her.
27
210 MEMOIRS OF
“ 1718, July 14. Very dull and drowsy all this day. I have often
covenanted to be the Lord’s with soul and spirit, with will and affec-
tions; but yet, how treacherous and unprofitable have I been I have
renounced sin, self, this world; yet, how often have I been overcome by
them! I have taken Christ Jesus the Lord on his own terms, to love, obey,
and serve him; but how short have I been found in all ! I have given up
myself to God through Christ, to the sanctifying operations of the Holy
Spirit, to the commanding powers of his law, and the disposals of his
providence, and would be to him a praise; yet, how oft have I been a
dishonour to him | Lord, I still resolve in thy strength to be what I
ought. Be surety for thy weak but willing servant.
* 1720, January 1 and 2. I ended the last, and began the present
year, in extremity of pain. After a long waking night, I could not fix
my mind on any thing with comfort till past four in the morning, when
I surrendered myself afresh to God, and begged healing for my diseas-
ed soul. I rose at six in much pain, entreated of God to reconcile me
to his discipline, and show me wherefore he thus contends with me.
Not long after, I had some ease, and was carried in a chair to the house
of God, where I gave thanks, and experienced a joyful day. Lord, pity
and heal my soul, and prepare me for glory ! O make haste, my below-
ed, and end these days of sin and sorrow, to a poor distressed worm,
that longs to be with thee
“1720, February 21. Sweet entertainments! How excellent is thy
loving-kindness, O Lord ' How gracious was thine assistance to thine
ambassador in public, and to a poor worm in family-worship !
“1720, March 6. I went out, and heard the sermon in great pain, and
renewed my solemn dedication of myself to God, with firm resolution in
his strength to acquiesce in his all-wise discipline as best for me, how-
ever grievous to my flesh. I returned in great torture, but with submis-
sion to the rod, though its strokes are very sharp.
“ 1720, April 18. The Lord has hitherto helped me under bodily
infirmities. I pray, and hope, and wait for his gracious aids under all
my spiritual complaints and maladies. Thou, Lord, knowest my hun-
ger and thirst for more righteousness, and thou hast said I shall be filled,
Matt. v. 6. I rely on thee, O thou eternal Amen, and on thy power,
compassion, and faithfulness, for what I want, and am longing for.
“ 1720, May 1. (Two days before she was struck with her last sick-
ness.) While I looked inward, I was overwhelmed with sorrow for the
sad remainders of vain and evil thoughts, pride, selfishness, &c. which
damped my joy and praise. O Lord, accept my broken heart, which thou
hast said thou wouldest not despise. Teach me better how to rejoice
and mourn together, and give me victory over my heart-sins.”
The husband and biographer of this excellent gentlewoman acquaints
us, “that she wrote often to her intimate friends, and especially to such
as were young, to persuade them of the reasonableness and benefit of
, the great duties of religion—to warn them against the temptations of
their age and stations—to improve their education—to excite them to an
early and exemplary piety—to confute their cavils—to impress upon
them the obligation of their baptismal covenant—to satisfy their spiritual
doubts, and encourage their hopes in God, and perseverance in their
Christian course. The most of these,” says Mr. Bury, “ and the most
\
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 2II
considerable, are supposed to be in the hands of such whom they imme-
diately concerned. Some part of the very few that are come to my
knowledge since her death, are these that follow.” Out of this number
we shall communicate only a part, though it will be the major part, and
so conclude our memoirs of this most pious and ornamental Christian.
LETTER. I.
To a Person impatient under Crosses.
—My pensive temper feeds not so much on future, as present troubles.
I never live till I get an hour's converse with myself, and with that God
in whose hands my times are ; but, when I can turn in and seriously
consider the cause and effects of my impatient struggles under the most
just and perfectly wise disposals of Providence, I am cured for that day,
by finding worse troubles within, than ever I found without. So true
is great Mr. Dod’s saying, “Where sin sits heavy, the cross sits light.” I
cannot but think it unparalleled ingratitude, that creatures fallen from
God, the chief good and final happiness of immortal spirits, and yet, re-
stored by God incarnate, should so basely dispute the tasting of the cup,
the dregs of which he himself drank up for us. What can we suffer
from friends or enemies, in body, soul, name, or estate, that he has not
waded through, and triumphed over for our good, and in our stead Î
And is not our quickening head, the second Adam, as powerful to con-
quer sin and sorrow, as the first Adam was to convey them 4 O for a
more lively faith in the great Redeemer, to heal our souls of this plague
(impatience)! Could heathens say it was glorious to live, when it was
easier to die; and cannot we be willing to live, when all in life pleases
us not ? O ! how unworthy of Christians is such impatience I long
for heaven, more for freedom from such reluctances at the Divine will,
than from any troubles this world creates me.
LETTER. II.
To a Parent on the Death of a Child.
—I know your tender love to your children must make a wound in
your heart, when you lose any ; but I hope, grace and long experience
of God’s all-sufficiency, eternity, and the unchangeableness of his love
and covenant, are better to you than your own or children’s lives. The
good assurance your daughter left behind her of her entering into im-
mortal glory, has set her above our pity; and as to ourselves, our short
remaining moments here, and good hope through grace of being very
soon with all our departed perfected friends, should greatly moderate
our sorrows. For why, for so short a time, should we be so much con-
cerned whether we meet them next on earth, or in the heavenly man-
sions, since the last only can afford us that joy and pleasure which are
without alloy or mixture ? If to hear that your children are well on
earth rejoices you, why not to know any of them are well, and can ne-
ver be otherwise, in heaven'ſ
LETTER. III.
To one in Doubt whether the certain Knowledge of a Christian's State
is attainable on Earth.
—I cannot but offer at some assistance under your seeming doubt,
“Whether a person might certainly know in what state he stands !”
|
212 MEMOIRS OF
If once we can persuade ourselves that the greatest good is not attaina-
ble, it ceases to be the object of our hope and endeavour. That wicked
men may, without doubt, conclude themselves such, and consequently in
a damnable state, possibly you might more easily believe, than that a
person truly accepting Christ upon Gospel terms, may discern that he
doth so, and consequently is in a state of salvation. . But that both are
to be known, I think is sufficiently evident from Scripture, since it puts,
us upon judging and trying ourselves, and making sure our own salva-
tion. And besides, how many saints have affirmed their knowledge and
joyful evidences of God’s grace in them | Add further, that our bless-
ed Redeemer himself has laid down this as an evident title (as the
evidence of our title) to the heavenly mansions; that if our hearts are
there, our treasures are there also, Matt, vi. 21. Can we imagine that
the good Spirit of God would excite our desires after such an inheritance
only to torment or deceive us 1 No, surely. He who is gone before to
prepare a place for his disciples, hath left them his Holy Spirit, not only
to fit them for that glorious inheritance, but also to seal them up to the
day of redemption, and given them undoubted pledges and earnests of
their future possession. The major proposition is unquestionably true,
that “he who believes shall be saved;” the doubt will lie in the minor,
“but I believe.” But, upon serious trial, you may come to the know-
ledge that you are the true believer. That some persons, upon their first
conversion, have been able to draw the conclusion, I have no reason to
doubt; but it is not God’s ordinary method, to convince, convert, and
assure at once. Do not, therefore, impatiently conclude that assurance
is not attainable, because it is not as yet attained ; but, with strenuous
endeavours, be still pursuing the making your calling and election sure;
always remembering, that it is the same Spirit who works grace, who
alone can shine on it, and discover and give you the clear knowledge of
his work. Pray hard, and be very thankful for his least assistance, than
which I know not a more effectual way to gain more. Beware of
grieving him by continuing in any known sin, or neglecting any known
duty. If you dally or trifle in your return to God, it will not only make
your case seem doubtful, but, like a broken bone, make you halt for
many years to come. The smallest sin, if not resisted and mourned
over, will breed doubts and troubles as surely as putrid flesh engenders
worms. Therefore, fall to your work in earnest; and I can assure you,
the sooner you begin, the greater will be your honour and peace.
Though you may not presently be able to affirm an infallible certainty
of your state, yet, if by such means you attain a comfortable hope to en-
courage future endeavours, who knows how soon you may triumph over
your conquered enemies!
LETTER IV.
On the Death of an intimate Friend.
—I came hither to close the eyes of my dear friend ; and since she
might shine no longer among sinful worms here, I bless God, who
brought me to her instructive death-bed, where faith, submission,
patience, and almost uninterrupted joy in breathing after her dear Re-
deemer, more than equalled all I ever saw in one who lay so long in .
sight of their last ghastly enemy. And, though I cannot yet pray
against sudden death, yet, her steadfast hope and glorious conquest have
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 213
given me more tolerable thoughts of languishing sickness, since in her
I saw, that neither the strength of pain, nor the weakness of the patient,
can hinder a triumphant exit, when God will make his joy our strength.
LETTER. W.
Directions how to instruct a Child.
—I am glad your brother can so prettily divert you. I wish you
wisdom and love to instruct him. Be very watchful of his conversa-
tion ; and whatever you find faulty in him, show him the evil of it, ra-
ther than charge him with it, lest you put him upon lying to hide his
guilt. Let him see you love him, before you chide him, and that you are
ready to conceal or excuse his tolerable faults. Be very frequent, but
not tedious, in your instructions. Often open the nature, and inculcate
the necessity, of prayer for all we want, and the encouraging promises
of God that he will hear us. Lisp to your brother, in his own language,
what he prays for by his form ; and labour to excite in him a sense of
his sad state by sin, greater desires after grace, and fuller resolutions
and endeavours after the life and power of godliness. Let some part of
his catechism be daily recited, and what he most imperfectly repeats, be
said at his going to sleep, and at his first waking. Talk over the ser-
mons you hear together in language adapted to his capacity; and fail
not to beg of God a blessing upon all your labours, or else you will do
little to purpose. If God makes you instrumental in the conversion of
you brothers and sisters, it will be a great honour and comfort, and
produce the strongest union among you. Take special care of them
who are in the greatest danger. Imitate your godly, impartial mother,
who, though she loved all her children alike, yet would often say,
“If she knew to which child she had conveyed most of her sinful nature,
she would pity and endeavour the help of that child most.”—

LETTER WI.
To a Friend under great Dejection and Desertion.
—In these dark hours of your life, the silence of your friends may
seem unnatural. I cannot, therefore, but heartily condole you, and beg
you would not imagine your case to be unusual, or out of the road of
God’s fatherly discipline ; for what good Christian’s Diary did you ever
read or hear of, that has no such lines of complaint as yours! And no
wonder, when our Head and Lord Redeemer almost dies with them in
his mouth ! Why should we grudge to pledge him in that bitter cup,
whose soul was sorrowful and sore amazed Can our jealousy argue a
dereliction more than his 'l Are not the gifts and callings of God with-
out repentance " If your soul has not been touched with the true load-
stone, what makes it stand trembling towards its beloved point 1 Is not
love in desire, and lamenting after its beloved object, as truly love, as
when resting in the enjoyment 1 If you find much dross in your best
gold, will you throw away both together ? Or would you change with
one that hopes without trial I find it a mighty craft of the old Serpent,
when upon serious search I have found sin in my heart, that did not dis-
cover itself upon transient inquiries, to be very ready to persuade me there
was nothing else to be found there. I bless God, I can at present believe
he lies; but how long I shall believe so, I know not ; for, alas! I have
some gloomy days as well as others, especially under bodily languors. I
214 MEMOIRS OF
doubt not but you address yourself to spiritual physicians under your
present maladies. Blessed be God, you have many skilful and faithful
ones. Search not without their help; and God send you a messenger,
one of a thousand, who may show to you your uprightness. I know,
only He who creates the fruit of the lips peace, can make your help
consolatory; yet, wait in the way of instituted means; and remember,
it was but a little further (Cant. iii. 4) the drowsy spouse went in her
search, ere she found her slighted and grieved beloved. I trust, your pre-
sent temptations to throw away your hope, will not prevail : however,
think not of throwing off duty, especially your attendance on that com-
fortable sealing ordinance, the Lord's Supper, which I have reason to re-
commend to all my afflicted, tempted friends, since I find it no small mer-
cy to go and renew my former covenant; or, if I cannot find my fidelity
therein, to make it anew. For surely God does there renew his covenant
with every fallen child of Adam who heartily consents, though he cannot
perfectly reach the terms according to his desire. If former stated times
of communicating afford you a sufficient support, be more frequent, since
every Lord’s-day gives you an opportunity in the city. Remember, my
dear disconsolate grandmother waited long at these waters, though
with sorrow complaining they were to her a sealed fountain, and that
her dutiful attendance ended in a triumphant death. Before that pe-
riod, I hope to hear you are emerging from under the waves that now
overwhelm you; and by that time, you may be ready to strengthen the
weak hands (of others) from more glorious appearances of God to your
soul. I beg that the God of all consolation would shine on the graces
he has wrought in you, and will by his own methods perfect in your
soul, that, when he has tried you, you might come forth as gold, and
meet for the inheritance of the saints in light, where no doubt of God’s
love to you, or of your love to him, will break your peace or interrupt
your oy more. --
LETTER VII.
Cautions against Spiritual Declensions.
—A declining state is incident to the best, and therefore to be feared
by all. How shamefully have some of our acquaintance stained their
families ' And whither have their gradual declensions at last brought
them 4 I know there are many who assert a total apostacy from true
grace; but you and I have been taught better, and can comfortably
conclude from God’s unchangeable love, decree, and almighty power
engaged for perseverance, and from our union with Christ, and his con-
stant intercession for us, that the habits of true grace cannot be lost.
But, alas ! what abatements may there be in the degrees and exercise,
in the life and strength of it! And how sad and deplorable is such
a case ! Who can but pity a robust body reduced to a skeleton by a
pining consumption ? And is less pity due to souls declining in their
graces, when ardent love, strong desires, humblest mournings, liveliest
joys, are all withering, or choked with a confluence of worldly cares
or pleasures 4 Ah the sadness of this state 1 May I never weep over
any of my dear relations in such a case ! The best are apt to decline
in duty, in their love and affection to it, and sometimes find a sad dis-
tance from God, an estrangement from him, and a shyness of him in
prayer, which yet before has been the delight and relief of their souls.
MRS, ELIZABETH BURY. 215
Surely, the restraining of prayer is a very sad mark, and when our
hearts do not joyfully answer the call of God to seek his face. And it
is little better, when our wandering spirits are not watched, called in,
and made to ply their work, but flies light upon the sacrifice that used
to flame. Nay, if but our cheerfulness in duty should abate,how heavily
shall we drive, if what was once our delight becomes our task and bur-
den | If after duty there are no advantages, no greater nearness to God,
no fuller resolutions, no humbler resignations, how weary shall we
quickly be of our choicest happiness for the enjoyment of some inferior
good, or what is worse, some foul corruption, which our treacherous
hearts have secretly fallen in love with, while yet we profess to be en-
tirely the Lord’s 1 There are in the best, such remainders of sin as ever`
incline to apostacy ; for none are so completely sanctified, but the flesh
is still lusting against the spirit; and indwelling sin is an active princi-
ple, very importunate, and not easily to be denied. The temptations too
of Satan are always assaulting, and our own corruptions are ever ready
to side with them ; yea, and God’s just desertions often concur; for,
though he does not withdraw his love and care, yet, for our neglects, he
often may and does suspend his influence and assistance, and then what
are we ?—Let me entreat you not to lose these hasty lines till you have
tried your present case, whether you are growing or declining. If
grace withers, I am sure so must comfort. , If this be your condition,
remember whence you are fallen, and repent, and do your first works,
and lay fresh hold on the great Redeemer. If your case be better.
bless God, and rejoice my soul in letting me know it.
LETTER VIII.
Cautions to a Friend about marrying.
—It is very odd, when you ask my opinion in the matter proposed,
that you only give me an account of the gentleman's circumstances, and
not of his character. So far as I know, I must freely own that I fear the
estate is too great, and likely to prove a snare to you. Bishop Hall af-
firms, “that riches have made many worse, but never any better.”
I hope you would rather choose to be better than richer, and that you
will never be biassed by an estate to an indifferent choice. You know I
have ever cautioned you, and I must caution you still, against too great
a fondness for wealth. Alas! should you have it, how many things
may embitter it to you ! Should you have a churlish Nabal, and you
could only behold your riches with your eyes, and not be suffered to do
any good with them, how uneasy would that be to your charitable,
generous mind Or should your partner's temper be good, yet if debts,
or provision for younger children, should cripple a man’s estate, it is but
the name, and not the thing which you enjoy. But if neither of these
disagreeables should happen, yet may not worse? Supposing there is no
piety, no warm devotion in your husband, but an aversion against your
attendance on private altars, where you have found more than all this
world can afford you, what perplexity are you then tied to for life . I
know what troubles you have met with ; but might you not, by avoid-
ing present, plunge yourself into future difficulties It is better to be in
distress by necessity than by choice. What evil God inflicts, is easier
borne than that which we bring upon ourselves. Let me entreat you to
216 MEMOIRS OF
moderate your desires after worldly grandeur. Pardon my freedom. If
I am apt to be too jealous of you, it is because I love you.
LETTER IX.
On the Death of a good Lady and Friend.
— I am heartily concerned for my own and for the country’s loss of
that excellent lady, and condole with you especially, who had the ho-
nour of her friendship, I believe as much as could consist with the in-
equality of your stations in this world, and that the goodness of the
deceased levelled more than is usual even in pious ladies. A friend,
wise, godly, compassionate, secret, &c. is a rarity while it is enjoyed,
and a loss seldom repaired in this world. But O what a friend is our
dear Redeemer He is not limited to one, or a few, like our contracted
minds, but condescends to the title and offices of a friend to all his faith-
ful followers. I am thankful for the tastes of his goodness in creature-
friendship; but, in its utmost perfection, it is but a faint shadow of
that which is Divine, and what I find in my eternal lover and friend, the
Lord Jesus Christ, whose friendship has not the disparagement which
all creature-enjoyments have, of being but a short and uncertain plea-
SUll'62.—
LETTER. X.
On a Tradesman’s casting up his Shop.
— Since you seem to be pleased with any of my scrawls, I will give
you a short history of what has passed with us this Christmas. You re-
member I now live with a tradesman called a milliner;” I suppose from
the multitude of things that such ordinarily trade in, especially in the
country. It is a prudent and laudable custom with him, to cast up
his shop for the most part once in the year. I love not to be ignorant
of any thing that falls in my way without trouble ; and therefore, to
divert my mind, I have sometimes engaged with him in some little part
of this pleasant fatigue, the whole of which is a thorough scrutiny into
all that has been bought and sold, what has been got by it, and what
remains. In order to this, abundance of files, of bills, of letters, and
of receipts, besides books, were to be examined; but my province was
only to assist in measuring, and to write on every piece, after it was
measured, what it contained. The trial of gains was left to them-
selves, and held them to it day and night, and every one was cheerful
and pleasant at the conclusion. I expostulated with my landlord on the
unnecessary trouble of this, for one who had no reason to suspect his cir-
cumstances; but was answered by him, “ that, besides the pleasure of
proving it, (the good state of his circumstances,) his future trade could
not be so successful, easy, and beautiful, without this examination. The
sale of what had been bought, directs to what is best to be bought again,
by finding out what had been sold to the best advantage. What had
been misplaced, and thought to have been lost, is now put in order again,
and readily found. Besides, the gain made a recompense for the trouble,
and was a help to thankfulness, &c.” Now, my dear friend, if we are
so wise as to this world, why should we be so weak for the other ? And
yet, how few are there, who, with a like unwearied diligence, dexte-
* Mille, in Latin, signifies a thousand.
ar
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 217
rity, and cheerfulness, cast up in their spiritual traffic I blush at my
own sloth and folly, and endeavour to commend heart-eaſamination to
my thoughts for my Christmas employment. The result of all my land-
lord’s trouble assures him he has gained by his last year’s trade, but
can give him only some probable conjectures how he may thrive thé
next, together with many fears of losing by some unfashionable goods,
which he looks upon with heavy sighs. But if, upon serious search, I
can find I have gained any true grace, I am sure of its increase, and
that it can never be lost, or become useless. Can I but find grace as
a grain of mustard-seed, I can safely conclude it will grow up to a tree.
The path of the just, as a shining light, will shine more and more to a
perfect day. If I sigh over the weakness of my grace, I am yet en-
couraged when I read the encomiums of my compassionate Redeemer
on the weak faith of many who addressed him in the days of his flesh.
Therefore, my good friend, let us call in the assistance of others, and
diligently search our hearts and ways, and follow it to a comfortable
conclusion ; and then my diversion may be useful to myself and you.
LETTER, XI.
Upon the Death of a Sister.
—I thought I could with less discomposure have parted with a sister,
than I find I can. I hoped that death would not have begun at the
wrong end of the register-book. But they are seniors in the best sense,
who have soonest done their work, and are first fit for glory. Though
I could not have parted with a sister without tears to any distant country
upon earth, though it had been to her advantage, yet, reason would have
blamed, and soon overcome such a fond and foolish passion. And
surely religion, then, should not only do no less, but even more, when
my sister is in a far higher and happier preferment than all this world
can pretend to offer. Our all-wise Creator first formed our bodies, and
then inspired them ; and when he is pleased to dissolve the compositum,
it is not that either of the constituent parts should be destroyed; but
the dissolution, as to the righteous, with regard to their souls, is im-
mediate glory; and with regard to their bodies, but a refining in order
to a reunion. The forsaken mansion is indeed a melancholy object;
and it is very affecting to close the dear eyes that were wont to delight
us with their silent rhetoric ; but we more than water the body sown in
dust, while we dim our prospect of the glory of our friends who have died
in the Lord. Why should I wish the soul in this body still, merely to
say, I have a sister in such a place | What if heaven, where she is, is
further off! I am sure, as that is more suitable, so, it ought to be nearer
to my immortal part. And may I not still have communion with her,
and the glorious company she keeps, by loving, praising, admiring, and
adoring the same God, though I am yet on earth! May I not rejoice
in the thoughts of meeting her among the spirits of the just made per-
fect? Surely, they have more courage, better success, or less difficulty,
than I, who can wish the spiritual war protracted.—But she has passed
the pikes. O happy soul | Her body, indeed, is sown in corruption, it
cannot defend itself from worms, and is at present putrifying and loath-
some ; but it will not always be so. If the innate desires of reunion
could not persuade me of a resurrection, yet, the infallible word of God
has assured me of it, and that it shall arise, not as it was sown, a natu-
28
218 MEMOIRS OF
ral and sluggish body, but agile and sprightly, and fit to serve its supe-
rior and vigorous soul. It is a pleasure to me sometimes to think of the
lustre and activity of glorified bodies, which rest not either day or night,
nor suffer any decays, imperfections, pauses, or interruptions in their
high and happy employments. But the greatest pleasure of all is, to
think of being for ever with the Lord.—
LETTER XII.
To a Friend under great Afflictions and spiritual Fears.
—I cannot forget my promises of praying for you, and writing to you.
I daily attempt the one, and wish I could perform it better. And as to
the other, I should be glad if my pen could assist your faith and patience
under the smarting rod of, I hope I may say, your heavenly Father; for
so it may be, though accompanied with angry frowns. It is true, afflic-
tions in themselves cannot be proofs of sonship; but we are fully assured
by the sacred Scriptures, that the sorest trials are very consistent with
that privilege. The experience of many of God’s favourites confirms it.
All the promises of support under, benefit by, and deliverance from such
troubles, suppose it. Yet, our souls are too apt to misconstrue fatherly
chastisements for the revenges of an enemy, or to think there is more
anger than love in them, and to murmur that they are so long and
heavy. But the all-wise Father of spirits cannot mistake in measur-
ing, timing, and appointing his methods of healing souls. If guilt makes
you fear his wrath, rather than taste his love in your afflictions, you should
cast your guilty soul upon him for promised rest, and may well be as-
sured that God will not exact the debt from the offender and the surety
too. Fly daily to that refuge, that sure hope, that justifying righteous-
ness; and then you will find no fury in God, how grievous soever your
afflictions are. You have liberty to pray for pity and help, as well as
David, who, when he had aching bones, had a sense of guilt also, even
of scandalous sins. If your own, or the cries of others for you, seem to
be yet unheard, it might be our mistake to urge for present ease with-
out a due respect to future cure. Sin is the worst disease; its cure is to
be sought, though by the roughest methods. The children of God are
agreed in this, and yet, can scarce submit the means to the infallible
Physician. Though we can trust a surgeon to apply a caustic, though
of lapis infernalis, and let it lie his time, if there be any hope of a cure;
yet, how hardly can we submit, on higher reason, surer hope, or happier
experience, to him, whose word of truth assures us that every thing He
does, shall do us good, and both purge away our sins, and make us par-
takers of his holiness I must confess, these lines upbraid my own fool-
ish choice oftentimes for myself and friends; but I pray and wait for
better submission to the heaviest strokes, either on myself or them.—
LETTER, XIII.
Various Dispensations of Providence argued and justified.
—I have been long your debtor for a very kind and comfortable letter,
which came seasonably to hand, as I was groaning under great pain,
and sympathizing with others in bitter affliction. Since then, I bless
God, I have seen brighter days; but clouds have returned after rain
upon others. And may not all this, put together, commend the varie-
MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 219
gated dispensations of Providence Had all our days been halcyon,
would they have been so safe or useful ? Had all been sable, how dis-
consolate I Were all the children in equal smart under the rod toge-
ther, we should be too ready to make some unworthy reflections on
the all-wise discipline. Were not all alternately so, we should be rea-
dy to suspect their sonship. O the depth of wisdom, that poor shallow
mortals can never fathom ' Yet, how proud and peevish are we, when
any thing is denied, at our own time, which we fancy to be good for us!
Had I been always well and at ease, how chill a sympathy should I
have had with the dear afflicted members of Christ ! Had you never
been so, I had wanted your experimental consolations. Now, if the
brief hints of this beautiful variety in the dispensations of Providence,
can afford us such pleasure here, how bright and glorious, how sweet
and ravishing will they appear when unfolded in eternal glory ! And
why should I be impatient of, or fear the darkest scene that shall end
in the brightest glory ! Yet, with shame and sorrow I confess, the fear
of what I may feel, has been as afflictive to me as most I have felt;
yea, when I have found a good hope of an interest in God, and after
a thousand experiences of his never-failing compassions confuting my
guilty fears. This childish, or rather unchildlike distemper, I think,
increases with years, and is partly occasioned by frequent and close con-
verse with many of my superiors in grace under bitter afflictions living
and dying ; and when I see what is done to the green trees, I am apt
to run into an excess of fear what shall be done to the dry. Fain would I
cherish an awful, while I subdue a slavish fear. But this I cannot do
of myself, and therefore beg it of the God of all grace, in which I crave
your assistance.
Such are the threads (the above extract of her Diary and Letters) of
the mantle Mrs. Bury left behind her, when her spirit ascended to the
celestial glory: how rich and heavenly their texture, our readers will
judge.
We have now only to add a Poem which Dr. Watts wrote on the
occasion.
“She must ascend: her treasure lies on high,
And there her heart is. Bear her through the sky
On wings of harmony, ye sons of light,
And with surrounding shields protect her flight;
Teach her the wondrous songs yourselves compose
For your bright world; she'll learn them as she goes;
The sense was known before; those sacred themes,
The God, the Saviour, and the flowing streams,
That ting'd the cursed tree with blood divine,
Purchas'd a heaven, and wash’d a world from sin;
The beams, the bliss, the visions of that place,
Where the whole Godhead shines in mildest grace:
These are the notes for which your harps are strung
These were the joy and labour of her tongue
In our dark regions; these exalted strains
Brought Paradise to earth, and sooth'd her pains.
Souls made of pious harmony and love
Can be no strangers to their work above.
“But must we lose her hence? the muse in pain
Regrets her flight, and calls the saint again.
Stay, gentle spirit, stay ! Can nature find
No charms to hold the once unfetter'd mind 7
220
MEMOIRS OF
Must all these virtues, all these graces soar
Far from our sight, and bless the earth no more?
Must the fair saint to worlds immortal climb,
For ever lost to all the sons of time?”
O, no; she is not lost, behold her here.
How just the form how soft the lines appear
The features of her soul without disguise .
Drawn by her own blest pen a sweet surprise
To mourning friends. The partner of her cares,
Seiz'd the fair piece, and wash’d it o'er with tears,
Dress'd it in flow’rs, then hung it on her urn,
A pattern for her sex in ages yet unborn.
“Daughters of Eve, come, trace these heavenly lines;
Feel with what pow'r the bright example shines:
She was what you should be. Young virgins, come,
Drop a kind tear, and dress you at her tomb:
Gay silks and diamonds are a vulgar road;
Her radiant virtues should create the mode.
Matrons, attend her hearse with thoughts refin'd,
Gaze and transcribe the beauties of her mind,
And let her live in you. The meek, the great,
The chaste, yet free, the cheerful, yet sedate,
Swift to forgiveness, but to anger slow,
Andrichº learning, yet averse to show,
With charity and zeal that rarely join,
And all the human graces and divine,
Reign'd in her breast, and held a pleasing strife
Through ev'ry shifting scene of various life,
The maid, the bride, the widow, and the wife.
“Nor need a manly spirit blush to gain
Exalted thoughts from her superior vein.
Attend her hints, ye sages of the schools,
And by her nobler practice frame your rules.
Let her inform you to address the ear
With conquering suasion, or reproof severe,
And still without offence. Thrice happy soul,
That could our passions and her own control,
Could wield and govern that unruly train,
Sense, fancy, pleasure, fear, grief, hope, and pain,
And live sublimely good l Behold her move
Thro' earth's rude scenes, yet point her thoughts above.
Seraphs on earth pant for their native skies,
.And nature feels it painful not to rise.
Ye venerable tribes of holy men,
Read the devotions of her heart and pen,
And learn to pray and die. BURIssa knew
To make life happy, and resign it too.
The soul that oft had walk’d th’ ethereal road,
Pleas'd with her summons, took her flight to God.
“But ne'er shall words, or lines, or colours paint
Th’ immortal passions ºf the expiring saint.
What beams of joy, angelic airs, arise
O'er her pale cheeks, and sparkle in her eyes,
In that dark hour ! how all serene she lay
Beneath the openings of celestial day !
Her soul retires from sense, refines #ºn sin,
While the descending glory wrought within,
Then in a sacred calm resign'd her breath,
And, as her eye-lids clos'd, she smil’din death.
“O may some pious friend, who weeping stands
Near my last pillow with uplifted hands,
Or wipes the mortal dew from off my face
Witness such triumphs in my soul, and trace
The dawn of glory in my dying mien,
While on my lifeless lips such heavenly smiles are seen!’
M R. S. ELIZABET H R O W E.
MRs. ELIZABETH Rowe, a gentlewoman not more admired for her
fine writings, than esteemed and loved by all her acquaintance for the
many amiable qualities of her heart, was born at Ilchester, in Somerset-
shire, Sept. 11, 1674, being the eldest of three daughters* of Mr. Walter
Singer, a gentleman of a good family, and Mrs. Elizabeth Portnell, both
of them persons of distinguished merit and piety. Mr. Singer was not a
native of Ilchester, not so much as an inhabitant, before his imprisonment
there for his nonconformity, in the reign of King Charles the Second ; but,
being confined there, Mrs. Portnell, thinking herself obliged to visit those
who suffered for the sake of a good conscience, as a testimony of her re-
gard, not only to them, but to our common Lord, in this way commenced
an acquaintance with Mr. Singer, which afterwards proceeded to an union
that death alone could dissolve; and this it did too soon for the mourn-
ful survivor. Till her death, Mr. Singer resided at Ilchester; but not
long after, removed into the neighbourhood of Frome, in the same coun-
ty, where he became so well known and distinguished for his good sense,
primitive integrity, simplicity of manners, uncommon prudence, activity,
and faithfulness in discharging the duties of his station, inflexible ad-
herence to his principles, and at the same time truly catholic spirit, as
to be held in high esteem even by persons of superior rank. The Lord
Weymouth, who was reckoned a very good judge of men, not only wrote
to him, but honoured him with his visits, as did also the devout Bishop
Ken, and that very frequently, sometimes once a week.
Mr. Singer was religiously inclined, as he said himself, when about
ten years old, and declared, that he never from that time neglected
prayer; and, as far as he knew his own heart, had sincerely endeavour-
ed to keep a good conscience. He died as he had lived, April 19, 1719,
in a blessed calm and peace of mind, and humble confidence in the
mercy of God through a Redeemer. A worthy and intimate friend of
his, a witness to the heroic and Christian manner in which he finished
life, observes, “ that he settled his affairs, and took leave of the world,
with the same freedom and composure as if he had been setting out on
a journey ; was peculiarly careful that the widows and orphans, with
whose concerns he was intrusted, might not be injured after his decease;
conversed, though under great bodily disorders, with those who came to
see him, who were not a few, in the easiest, freest manner ; spent his
time in praising and blessing God, praying to him, and giving good
counsel to those about him ; showed an uncommon sweetness and pa-
tience in his behaviour, and was exceeding thankful to those who did
the least kind office for him, though they owed him a great deal more.”
* One of the other two daughters died in her childhood, and the other survived to her
twentieth year, a lovely concurrent with her sister in the race of virtue and glory. . She had
the same extreme passion for books, chiefly those of medicine, in which she arrived at a con-
siderable skill. Both the sisters frequently studied till midnight.—Biograph. Britannica.
222 MEMOIRS OF
In a memorandum relating to her father's last sickness and death, Mrs.
Rowe herself hath these words. “My father often felt his pulse, and
complained that it was still regular, and smiled at every symptom of
approaching death. He would be often crying out, Come, #. Jesus,
come quickly ; come, ye holy angels, that rejoice at the conversion of a
sinner, come and conduct my soul to the skies, ye propitious spirits;”
and then would add, “But thy time, Lord, not mine, is best.”
Such as were acquainted with Mrs. Rowe from her earliest years,
could not but observe a great many things, not common at that time of
life, which promised that bright day that afterwards ensued; and it
must have been with peculiar satisfaction that Mr. Singer, in whom
parental affection concurred with a penetrating discernment to heighten
the pleasure, beheld the dawnings of a great and good mind in his young
daughter. When she received the first serious impressions of religion,
does not appear. Undoubtedly they were made while she was very
young, for, in one of her pious addresses, she herself thus speaks to God:
“My infant-hands were early lifted up to thee, and I soon learned to
know and acknowledge the God of my fathers.”
She loved, such was her taste for painting, the pencil, when she had
hardly strength and steadiness of hand to guide it; and one might
almost venture to say, that, even in her infancy, she would squeeze out
the juices of herbs to serve her instead of colours. Mr. Singer, perceiv-
ing her fondness for this art, was at the expense of a master to instruct
her in it, and it never ceased to be her amusement till her death. She
was also very much delighted with music, chiefly of the grave and so-
lemn kind, as best suited to the grandeur of her sentiments, and the
sublimity of her devotion.
But her strongest bent was to poetry. So prevalent was her genius
this way, that her very prose hath all the charms of verse without the
fetters; the same fire and elevation, the same bright images, bold figures,
and rich and flowing diction. She could hardly write a single letter
but it bore the stamp of the poet. One of her acquaintance remembered
to have heard her say, “that she began to write verses at twelve years
old,” which was almost as soon as she could write at all. In the year
1696, the twenty-second of her age, a collection of her poems on various
occasions was published at the desire of two of her friends, which we
may suppose did not contain all that she had had by her, since the ingeni-
ous prefacer gives the reader to hope, “that the author might in a little
time be prevailed with to oblige the world with a second part, no way
inferior to the former.” Though many of these poems are of the reli-
gious kind, and all of them consistent with the strictest regard to the
rules of virtue, yet, some things in them gave her no small uneasiness
in advanced life. What she could not absolutely approve, so quick was
her moral feeling, appeared unpardonable; and, not satisfied to have
done nothing that injured the cause of virtue, she was displeased with
herself for having written any thing that did not directly promote it.
What first introduced her to the notice of Lord Weymouth’s family,
was a little copy of verses of hers, with which they were so highly de-
lighted as to express a curiosity to see her; and the friendship that
commenced from that time, subsisted ever after; not more to her honour,
* Devotional Exercises, p. 53.
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 223
who was the favourite of persons so much superior to herself in the out-
ward distinctions of life, than to the praise of their judgment and taste,
who knew how to prize, and took a pleasure to encourage, such bloom-
ing worth. She was not then twenty years of age. Her paraphrase of
the 38th chapter of Job was written at the request of Bishop Ken, who
was at that time in the family, and gained her a great deal of reputation.
She had no other tutor for the French and Italian languages, than
the Hon. Mr. Thynne, son to Lord Wiscount Weymouth, who willingly
took that task-upon himself, and had the pleasure to see his fair pupil
improve so fast under his lessons, that in a few months she was able to
read Tasso's Jerusalem with great ease.
In the year 1710, she was married to Mr. Thomas Rowe, son of the
Rev Benoni Rowe, a non-conformist minister of a reputable family.
This young gentleman (for he was but about three-and-twenty when he
married) was possessed of a very fine understanding, had largely en-
riched his mind with learning, and was remarkably devoted to know-
ledge and improvement.* Mr. Rowe well knew how to value the
treasure which Providence had given him, in a woman of such exalted
merit and amiable qualities, and accordingly made it his study to re-
pay the felicity with which she crowned his life. The esteem and ten-
derness he had for her are inexpressible. It was some considerable
time after his marriage, that he wrote to her a very tender ode under the
name of Delia, full of the warmest sentiments of connubial friendship
and affection; in which the following lines may appear remarkable,
as it pleased Heaven to dispose events in a manner so agreeable to the
wishes Mr. Rowe expresses in them.
Long may thy ...; page,
And great example bless the rising age?
Long in thy charming prison may’st thou stay,
Late, very late, ascend the well-known way,
And add new glories to the realms of day !
At least Heav'n will not sure this pray’r deny:
Short be my life's uncertain date,
And earlier far than thine the destin’d hour of fate 1
Whene'er it comes, may’st thou be by,
Support my sinking frame, and teach me how to die,
Banish desponding nature's gloom,
Make me to hope a gentle doom,
And fix me all on joys to come!
With swimming eyes I’ll gaze upon thy charms;
And clasp thee, dying, in my fainting arms:
Then gently leaning on thy breast,
Sink in soft slumbers to eternal rest;
Without a groan resign my breath,
Nor shrink at the cold arms of death,
The ghastly form shall have a pleasing air
And all things smile, while Heav'n and Thou art there.
Mr. Rowe had not a constitution naturally robust, so that his intense
application to study might perhaps contribute to that ill state of health
which allayed the happiness of his marriage state, during the greater
part of it. In the latter end of the year 1714, his weakness increased,
* A very particular account of him is interwoven in the Life of Mrs. Rowe, prefixed to her
Miscellanies. It appears that Mr. Rowe had formed a design to compile the lives of all the
illustrious persons of antiquity, omitted by Plutarch, and for this purpose read the ancient his:
torians with great care. § design he in part exécuted. Eight of the lives were published
after Mr. Rowe's decease, and do honour to his memory.
eº
234 MEMOIRS OF

and he appeared to labour under all the symptoms of a consumption.
This fatal distemper, after it had confined him some months, cut off the
fair hopes of his doing great honour and service to his country, and put
a period to his life, May 13, 1715, when he was but just past the twenty-
eighth year of his age. He died at Hampstead, near London, where he
had for some time resided for the benefit of the air, and was buried in
the vault belonging to his family in the cemetery in Bunhill Fields,
where on his tomb are only written his name and the dates of his birth
and death. But an inscription of greater pomp is rendered unnecessary,
by the honour which Mrs. Rowe paid to his memory in the elegy she wrote
on his death, which we find among her poetical composures, and shall
communicate to our readers, not only as a lively proof of her affection
for her husband, but as a specimen of her fine talents as a poetess.
In what soft language shall my thoughts get free,
My dear Alexis, when I talk of thee?
Ye Muses, Graces, all ye gentle train
Of weeping loves, assist the pensive strain.
But why should I implore your moving art?
'Tis but to speak the dictates of my heart;
And all that knew the charming youth will join
Their friendly sighs and pious tears to mine;
For all who knew his merit must confess
In grief for him there can be no excess.
His soul was form'd to act each glorious part
Of life, unstain'd with vanity or art.
No thought within his gen’rous mind had birth,
But what he might have own'd to heav'n and earth.
Practis'd by him, each virtue grew more bright
And shone with more than its own native light.
Whatever noble warmth could recommend .
The just, the active, and the constant friend,
Was all his own. But O, a dearer name,
And softer ties, my endless sorrow claim :
Lost in despair, distracted, and forlorn,
The lover I, and tender husband, mourn.
Whate'er to such superior worth was due,
Whate'er excess the fondest passion knew,
I felt for thee, dear youth: my joy, my care,
My pray'rs themselves were thine; and only where
Thou wast concern'd my virtue was sincere.
Whene'er I begg'd for blessings on thine head,
Nothing was cold or formal that I said;
My warmest vows to Heav'n were made for thee,
And love still mingled with my piety.
O thou wast all my glory, all my pride,
Through life's uncertain paths my constant guide
Regardless of the world, to gain thy praise *
Was all that could my just ambition raise.
Why has my heart this fond engagement known?
Or why has Heav'n dissolv'd the tie so soon 7
Why was the charming youth so formed to move?
Or why was all my soul so turn'd for love?
But virtue here a vain defence had made,
Where so much worth and eloquence could plead;
For he could talk—'twas ecstasy to hear !
'Twas joy, 'twas harmony to ev'ry ear!
Eternal music dwelt upon his tongue,
Soft and transporting as the muse's .#
List’ning to him, my cares were charm'd to rest,
And love and silent rapture fill'd my breast:
Unheeded the gay moments took their flight,
And time was only measur’d by delight.
I hear the lov'd, the melting accents still,
And still the kind, the tender transport feel:
MRS: ELIZABETH Rowe. 225
Again I see the sprightly passions rise,
And life and pleasure sparkle in his eyes.
My fancy paints him now with ev'ry grace;
But ah!, the dear delusion mocks my fond embrace,
The smiling vision takes its hasty flight,
And scenes of horror swim before my sight;
Grief and despair in all their terrors rise;
A dying lover, pale and gasping, lies:
£º. circumstance appears in view
The fatal object is for ever new :
His anguish with the quickest sense I feel,
And hear this sad, this moving language still ;
“My dearest wiſe my last, my fondest care!
Sure, Heav'n for thee will hear a dying pray’r.
Be thou the charge of sacred Providence:
When I am gone, be that thy kind defence;
Ten *ś smiling blessings crown thy head,
When I am cold, and number'd with the dead:
Think on my vows, be to my mem'ry just;
My future fame and honour are thy trust.
From all engagements here I now am free,
But that which keeps my ling’ring soul with thee.
How much I love, thy bleeding heart can tell,
Which does, like mine, the pangs of parting feel :
But haste to meet me on those happy plains,
Where mighty love in endless triumph reigns.”
He ceas'd ; then gently yielded up his breath,
And fell a blooming sacrifice to death.
But oh! what words, what numbers can express,
What thought conceive the height of my distress?
Why did they tear me from my breathless clay?
I should have stay’d, and wept my life away.
Yet, gentle shade, whether thou now dost rove
Through some blest vale, or ever verdant grove,
One moment listen to my grief, and take
The softest vows that constant love can make.
Fór thee all .."; of pleasure I forego;
For thee my tears shall never cease to flow;
For thee at once I from the world retire,
To feed in silent shades an hopeless fire:
My bosom all thine image shall retain ;
The full impression there shall still remain:
As thou hast taught my constant heart to prove
The noblest height and elegance of love,
That sacred passion I to thee confine;
My spotless faith shall be for ever thine.
Mrs. Rowe continued to the last moments of her life, to express the
highest veneration and affection to the memory of her husband, and
showed a particular regard and esteem for his relations,” several of
whom she honoured with a long and most intimate friendship. But a
short time before her death, she discovered how incapable she was of
forgetting him, by shedding fresh tears on occasion of the mention of
his name; so that the lines she wrote on the anniversary return of the
day on which Mr. Rowe died, might in some degree express the habi-
tual, uninterrupted sorrow she felt every day of her life, for the loss of
.* º: letter she left behind her, to be delivered after her decease to Mrs. Sarah Rowe, be-
S thus:
gin My dear Mother,
I am now taking my final adieu of this world, in certain hopes of meeting you in
the next. I carry to my grave my affection and gratitude to your family, and leave you with
the sincerest concern for your own happiness, and the welfare of your family., May my pray-
ers be answered, when I am sleeping in the dust! O may the angels of God conduct you in
the paths of immortal glory and pleasure! I would collect the powers of my soul, and ask
blessings for you with all the holy violence of prayer. God Almighty, the God of your an-
cestors, who has been your dwelling-place for many generations, bſess you!
*
£36 MEMOIRS OF
a companion who had been so dear and delightful to her. The lines
are as follow :
Unhappy day! with what a dismal light
Dost thou appear to my afflicted sight!
In vain the cheerful spring returns with thee;”
There is no future cheerful spring for me.
While my Alexis withers in the tomb,
Untimely cropt, nor sees a second bloom,
The fairest season of the changing year
A wild and wintry aspect seems to wear.
The flow’rs no more their former beauty boast;
Their painted hue and fragrant scents are lost;
The joyous birds their harmony prolong;
But oh! I find no music in their song.
Ye mossy caves, ye groves, and silver streams,
The muse's lov’d retreats, and gentle themes,
Ye verdant fields, no more your landscapes please,
Nor give my soul one interval of ease;
Tranquillity and pleasure fly your shades,
And restless care your solitude invades.
Nor the still evening, nor the rosy dawn,
Nor moonlight glimm'ring o'er the dewy lawn,
Nor stars, nor sun, my gloomy fancy cheer,
But heaven and earth a dismal prospect wear.
That hour that snatch'd Alexis from my arms,
Rent from the face of nature all its charms!
Unhappy day, be sacred still to grief;
A grief too obstinate for all relief!
On thee my face shall never wear a smile ;
No joy on thee shall e'er my heart beguile.
Why dost thy light again my eyes molest ?
Why am I not with thee, dear youth, at rest?
When shall I, stretch’d upon my dusty bed,
Forget the toils of life, and mingle with the dead?
It was only out of regard to Mr. Rowe, that with his society Mrs.
Rowe was willing to reside in London during the winter season. Ac-
cordingly, as soon after his decease as her affairs would permit, she in-
dulged her invincible inclination to solitude, by removing to Frome, in
Somersetshire, in the neighbourhood of which place the greater part of
her estate lay. When she left town, she determined to return to it no
more, but to spend the remainder of her life in an absolute retirement;
yet, on some few occasions, she thought it her duty to violate her reso-
lution. In compliance with the importunate requests of the Honourable
Mrs. Thynne, she passed some months with her at London, after the
death of her daughter, the Lady Brooke ; and on the melancholy occa-
sion of the decease of Mrs. Thynne herself, she could not dispute the
solicitations of the Countess of Hertford, afterwards the Dutchess, of
Somerset, who earnestly desired her to reside some time with her at
Marlborough, to soften, by her conversation and friendship, her severe
affliction in the loss of her excellent mother ; and once or twice more,
it is apprehended, the power this last lady had over Mrs. Rowe, drew
her, by an obliging kirid of violence, to spend a few months at this or
some other of her ladyship's country seats. Yet, even on these occa-
sions, Mrs. Rowe never quitted her silent retreat without very sincere
regret, and always returned to it as soon as ever she could with decen-
cy disengage heiself from the importunity of her noble friends.
* Mr. Rowe died in the spring of the year.
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 227
In this recess, she composed her pieces entitled “Friendship in Death,”
and the several parts of the “Letters Moral and Entertaining.”* The
drift of the “Letters from the Dead” is, as the ingenious Authort of the
preface expresses it, “to impress the notion of the soul's immortality;
without which, all virtue and religion, with their temporal and eternal
good consequences, must fall to the ground : and to make the mind
contract, as it were, unawares, an habitual persuasion of Qur future ex-
istence by writings built on that foundation.” It may be added also,
that the design both of these, and the “Letters Moral and Entertain-
ing,” is, by fictitious examples of heroic virtue and the most generous
benevolence, to allure the reader to the practice of every thing that en-
nobles human nature, and benefits the world; and by the just and lively
images of the remorse and misery attendant on vice, to warn the young
and unthinking from being seduced to ruin by the enchanting name of
pleasure : the piety of which intention is the more worthy of the high-
est panegyric, as it is so uncommon in witty and polite writers.
In the year 1736, the importunity of some of Mrs. Rowe's acquain-
tance, who had seen the “History of Joseph” in manuscript, prevailed
on her, though not without real reluctance, to suffer the poem to be made
public. She wrote this piece in her younger years, and, when first
printed, had carried it no further than the marriage of the hero of the
poem ; but, at the request of her friends, particularly an illustrious
lady, f to whom she could scarce refuse any thing, she added two books,
to include the relation of Joseph’s discovery of himself to his brethren ;
the composing of which, as it is said, was no more than the employ-
ment of three or four days. This additional part, which was her last
work, was published but a few weeks before her death.
This grand event, the preparation for which she had made so much
the business of her life, befell her, according to her wish, in her beloved
recess. She enjoyed an uncommon strength of constitution, and had
passed a long series of years with scarce any indisposition severe enough
to confine her to her bed. But about half a year before her decease,
she was attacked with a distemper which seemed to herself, as well as
to others, attended with danger. Though this disorder, as she express-
ed herself to one of her most intimate friends, found her mind not quite
so serene and prepared to meet death as usual ; yet when, by devout
contemplations on the atonement and mediation of our blessed Re-
deemer, she had fortified herself against that fear and diffidence, from
which the most eminent piety may not always be secure in that most
solemn hour, she experienced such divine satisfaction and transport,
that she said with tears of joy, “ that she knew not that she had ever
felt the like in all her life;” and she repeated on this occasion Mr.
Pope's verses, entitled, “The Dying Christian to his Soul,” with an air
of such intense pleasure, as evidenced that she really felt all the elevat-
ed sentiments of pious ecstacy and triumph which breathe in that beau-
tiful piece of sacred poetry. After this threatening illness, Mrs. Rowe
* The dates of these several pieces are as follow :
“Friendship in Death, in twenty Letters from the Dead to the Living.” 1728.
I i. *:::" oral and Entertaining, in Prose and Verse,” Part I. 1729. Part II. 1731. Part
11. 3.
These works of Mrs. Rowe were translated into French, and published at Amsterdam in
the #. 1740, in two volumes, 12mo.
f Dr. Young. f The Dutchess of Somerset.
Ç
228 MEMOIRS OF
º
recovered her usual good state of health ; and though at the time she
was somewhat advanced in age, yet, her exact temperance, and the
calmness of her mind, undisturbed with uneasy cares and passions, en-
couraged her friends to flatter themselves with a much longer enjoy-
ment of so valuable a life than it pleased Heaven to allow them. On
the day on which she was seized with that distemper which in a few
hours proved mortal, she seemed to those about her to be in perfect
health and vigour; and in the evening, about eight of the clock, she
conversed with a friend with all her wonted vivacity ; after which she
retired to her chamber. About ten, her servant, hearing some noise
in her mistress’s room, ran instantly into it, and found her fallen off her
chair on the floor speechless, and in the agonies of death. She had
the immediate assistance of a physician and surgeon, but all the means
used were without success; and after having given one groan, she ex-
pired a few minutes before two of the clock on the Lord’s-day morning,
Feb. 20, 1736-7, in the sixty-third year of her age, her disease being
judged to be an apoplexy. A pious book was found lying open by her,
as also some loose papers on which she had written the following un-
connected sentences: t
O guide, and counsel, and protect my soul from sin!
O speak, and let me know thy heav'nly will!
Speak evidently to my listening soul!
O fill my soul with love, with light, and peace
And whisper heay'nly comforts to my soul!
O speak, celestiaſ Spirit, in the strain
Of love and heav'nly pleasure to my soul |
Thus it appeared, that in reading pious meditations, or forming
devout ejaculations for the Divine favour and assistance, Mrs. Rowe
made the last use of the powers of her reason below the skies; though
little, it may be, did she think in these her last moments, how near she
was to that blissful hour, when all her prayers would be completely
answered, and be exchanged for eternal enjoyment and praise.
As she was greatly apprehensive that the violence of pain, or the lan-
guors of a sick bed, might occasion some depression of spirits and
melancholy fears unsuitable to the character and expectations of a
Christian, it was her earnest and daily prayer to Heaven, as appeared
from her manuscript-book of devotion, that she might not in this man-
ner dishonour her profession ; and she often expressed to her friends her
desires of a sudden removal to the skies, as it must necessarily prevent
any such improper behaviour in her last moments: so that, as the sud-
denness of Mrs. Rowe's death must be numbered among the felicities
with which she was favoured by Providence, it may be interpreted also
as a reward of her singular piety, and a token of the Divine favour in
answer to her prayers.
Mrs. Rowe seemed, by the gaiety and cheerfulness of her temper, to
be particularly adapted to enjoy life, and all its innocent satisfactions;
yet, instead of any, excessive fondness for things present and visible,
her contempt for what she used to term a low state of existence, and a
dull round of insipid pleasures, and the desires with which she breathed
after the enjoyments of the heavenly world, were great beyond concep-
tion. When her acquaintance expressed to her the joy they felt at
seeing her look so well, and possessed of so much health as promised
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 229
many years to come, she was wont to reply, “that it was the same as
telling a slave his fetters were like to be lasting, or compliment him on
the strength of the walls of his dungeon ;” and, indeed, the fervour of
her wishes to commence the life of angels, irresistibly broke from her lips
in numberless other instances.
She was buried, according to her request, under the same stone with
her father, in the meeting-place at Frome ; on which occasion, her
funeral sermon was preached to a very crowded auditory by the Rev.
Mr. Bowden, her minister. Her death was lamented with very uncom-
mon sorrow by all who had heard of her virtue and merit, but particu-
larly by those of the town where she had so long resided, and her most
intimate acquaintance. Above all, the news of her death struck the
poor and distressed with inexpressible affliction ; and at her doors, and
over her grave, they bewailed the loss of their benefactress, poured
blessings on her memory, and recounted to each other the gentle and
condescending manner with which she heard their requests, and the nu-
merous instances in which they had experienced her goodness and
bounty.
In her cabinet were found letters to several of her friends, for whom
she had an high esteem and affection ; namely, the Countess of Hert-
ford, the Earl of Orrery, Mr. James Theobald, and Mrs. Sarah Rowe.
These letters, Mrs. Rowe had ordered to be delivered to the persons to
whom they were directed, immediately after her decease. They are
published in her life, drawn up by Mr. Theophilus Rowe, and prefixed
to her miscellaneous works in prose and verse ; they discover a most
pious spirit, and a most tender and affectionate friendship. Besides these
letters, she wrote also another to Dr. Watts, accompanying her papers,
containing the Devout Exercises of her Heart in Meditation, Soliloquy,
Prayer, and Praise, which the doctor, according to her desire, soon after
her decease communicated to the world. The letter to the doctor, and
two or three of her Devotional Exercises, we shall take leave to ingraft
into our memoirs, as they will afford lively proofs of Mrs. Rowe's emi-
nent piety, and show where her hope rested in the views of a blessed
immortality with the Lord.
To the Rev. Dr. Watts, at JNewington.
SIR, -
THE opinion I have of your piety and judgment, is the
reason of my giving you the trouble of looking over these papers in
order to publish them, which I desire you to do as soon as you can con-
veniently; only you have full liberty to suppress what you think pro-
€r.
I think there can be no vanity in this design, for I am sensible that
such thoughts as these will not be for the taste of the modish part of
the world, and before they appear, I shall be entirely disinterested in the
censure or applause of mortals.
The reflections were occasionally written, and only for my own im-
provement; but I am not without hopes that they may have the same
effect on some pious minds, as the reading the experiences of others
have had on my soul. The experimental part of religion has generally
a greater influence than its theory; and if, when I am sleeping in the
dust, these soliloquies should kindle a flame of Divine love in the
230 MEMOIRS OF
heart of the lowest and most despised Christian, be the glory given to
the great Spring of all grace, and benignity
I have now done with mortal things, and all to come is vast eternity.
Eternity—how transporting is the sound ! As long as God exists, my
being and happiness are secure. These unbounded desires, which the
wide creation cannot limit, shall be satisfied for ever. I shall drink at
the fountain-head of pleasure, and be refreshed with the emanations of
original life and joy. I shall hear the voica of uncreated harmony
speaking peace and ineffable consolation to my soul.
I expect eternal life not as a reward, (of merit,) but a pure act of
bounty. Detesting myself in every view I can take, I fly to the right-
eouness and atonement of my great Redeemer for pardon and salvation.
his is my only consolation and hope. “Enter not into judgment, O
Lord, with thy servant, for in thy sight shall no flesh be justified l’’
Through the blood of the Lamb, I hope for an entire victory over the
last enemy, and that before this comes to you, I shall have reached the
celestial heights; and, while you are reading these lines, I shall be
adoring before the throne of God, where faith shall be turned into vi-
sion, and these languishing desires satisfied with the full fruition of im-
mortal love. Adieu. ELIZABETH Rowe.
The devout exercises of her soul, which we have thought proper to
select from a very considerable number, no fewer than thirty-six, are
the three that follow :
Glory to God for Salvation by Jesus and his Blood.
Let me give glory to God before I die, and take shame and confusion
to myself. I ascribe my salvation to the free and absolute goodness of
God. Not by the strength of reason, or any natural inclination to virtue,
but by the grace of God I am what I am. O my Redeemer, be the
victory, be the glory thine ! I expect eternal life and happiness from
thee, not as a debt, but a free gift, a promised act of bounty. How
poor would my expectation be, if I only looked to be rewarded accord-
ing to those works which my own vanity, or the partiality of others,
have called good, but which, if examined by the Divine purity, would
prove but specious sins ! As such I renounce them. Pardon them, gra-
cious Lord, and I ask no more, nor can hope for that but through the
satisfaction which hath been made to Divine justice for the sins of the
world.
O Jesus, my Saviour ! what harmony dwells in thy name ! Celestial
joy, and immortal life, are in the sound ! Let the angels set this name
to their golden harps | Let the redeemed of the Lord for ever magnify it!
O my propitious Saviour, where were my hopes, but for thee ? How
desperate, how undone were my circumstances ! I look on myself, in
every view I can take, with horror and contempt. I was born in a state
of sin and misery, and in my best estate am altogether vanity. With
the utmost advantages I can boast, I shrink back, I tremble to approach
before unblemished Majesty. Othou in whose name the Gentiles trust,
be my refuge in that awful hour ! To thee I come, my only confidence
and hope. Let the blood of sprinkling, let the blood of the covenant be
on me ! Cleanse me from my original stain, and my contracted impurity,
and adorn me with the robes of thy righteousness, by which alone I ex-
pect to stand justified before infinite justice and purity
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 231
O enter not into judgment with me, for the best actions of my life
cannot bear thy scrutiny | Some secret blemish has stained all my glory.
My devotion to God has been mingled with levity and irreverence ; my
charity to man with vanity and ostentation. Some latent defect has
attended my best actions; and those very things which perhaps have
been highly esteemed by men, have deserved contempt in the sight of
God.
Jī Prayer for speedy Sanctification.
O Lord God, great and holy, all-sufficient, and full of grace, if thou
shouldest bid me form a wish, and take whatsoever I had in heaven or
earth to ask, it should not be the kingdoms of this world, nor the crowns
of princes; no, nor should it be the wreaths of martyrs, nor the thrones
of archangels. My first request is to be made holy. This is my high-
est concern. Rectify the disorders sin has made in my soul, and renew
thine image there. Let me be satisfied with thy likeness. Thou hast
compassed my paths with mercy in all other respects, and I am dis-
contented with nothing but my own heart, because it is so unlike the
image of thy holiness, and so unfit for thy immediate presence.
Permit me to be importunate here, O blessed God l and grant the
importunity of my wishes. Let me be favoured with a gracious and
speedy answer, for I am dying while I am speaking. The very breath
with which I am calling upon thee, is carrying away a part of my life. This
tongue that is now invoking thee, must shortly be silent in the grave.
These knees that are bent to pay thee homage, and these hands that
are now lifted up to the most high God for mercy, must shortly be
mouldering in their original dust. These eyes will soon be closed in
death, which are now looking up to thy throne for a blessing. O pre-
vent the flying hours with thy mercy, and let thy favour outstrip the
hasty moments
Thou art unchanged while rolling ages pass along ; but I am decay-
ing with every breath I draw. My whole allotted time to prepare for
heaven, is but a point, compared with thy infinite duration. The shortness
and vanity of my present being, and the importance of my eternal con-
cerns, join together to demand my utmost solicitude, and give wings to
my warmest wishes. Before I can utter all my present desires, the
hasty opportunity perhaps is gone, the golden minute vanished, and the
season of mercy has taken its everlasting flight.
O God of ages, hear me speedily, and grant my request while I am
yet speaking. My frail existence will admit of no delay: answer me
according to the shortness of my duration, and the exigence of my cir-
cumstances. My business, of high importance as it is, yet, is limited to
the present Now, the passing moment; for all the powers of earth cannot
promise me the next.
Let not my pressing importunity, therefore, offend thee. My happi-
ness, my everlasting happiness, my whole being, is concerned in my
success. As much as the enjoyment of God himself is worth, is at stake.
Thou knowest, Lord, what qualifications will fit me to behold thee.
Thou knowest in what I am defective. Thou canst prepare my soul in an
instant to enter into thy holy habitation. I breathe now, but the next
moment may be death. Let not that fatal moment come before I am
prepared. The same creating voice that said, “Let there be light, and
232 MEMOIRS OF
there was light,” can in the same manner purify and adorn my soul,
and make me fit for thy presence; and my soul longs to be thus purified
and adorned. O Lord, delay not, for every moment’s interval is a loss
to me, and may be a loss unspeakable and irreparable. Thy delay
cannot be the least advantage to thee. Thy power and clemency
are as full this present instant as they will be the next, and my time as
fleeting, and my wants as pressing.
Remember, O eternal God, my lost time is for ever lost, and my wast-
ed hours will never return. My neglected opportunities can never be re-
called. To me they are gone for ever, and cannot be improved. But
thou canst change my sinful soul into holiness by a word, and set me
now in the way to everlasting improvement.
O let not the Spirit of God restrain itself, but bless me according to
the fulness of thine own being, according to the riches of thy grace in
Christ Jesus, according to thy infinite, inconceivable love manifested in
that glorious gift of thy beloved Son, in whom the fulness of the God-
head was contained. It is through his merit and mediation I wait for
all the unbounded blessings I want, and ask for.
Longing for the Coming of Christ.
Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly. O come, lest my expectation
faint, lest I grow weary, and murmur at thy long delay ! I am tired
with these vanities, and the world grows every day more unentertain-
ing and insipid. It has now lost its charms, and finds my heart insensi-
ble to all its allurements. With coldness and contempt I view these
transitory glories, inspired with nobler prospects and waster expectations
by faith. I see the promised land, and every day brings me nearer the
possession of my heavenly inheritance. Then shall I see God, and live,
and face to face behold my triumphant Redeemer,
And in his favour find immortal light.
Ye hours, and days, cut short your tedious flight:
Ye months, and years, if such allotted be
In this detested barren world for me,
With hasty revolution roll along:
I languish with impatience to be gone.
I have nothing here to linger for. My hopes, my rest, my treasure,
and my joys, are all above. My soul faints for the courts of the Lord
in a dry and thirsty land, where there is no refreshment. “How long
shall I dwell in Mesech, and sojourn in the tents of Kedar!” When will
the wearisome journey of life be finished'! When shall I reach my ever-
lasting home, and arrive at my celestial country'ſ My heart, my wishes,
are already there. I have no engagements to delay my farewell ; no-
thing to detain me here; but I wander an unacquainted pilgrim, a stran-
ger and desolate, far from my native regions.
My friends are gone before, and are now triumphing in the skies,
secure of the conquest, possessed of the rewards of victory. They sur-
vey the field of battle, and look back with pleasure on the distant
danger. Death and hell for ever vanquished, leave them in the posses-
sion of endless tranquillity and joy; while I, beset with a thousand snares,
and tired with continual toil, unsteadily maintain the field, till active faith
steps in, assures me of the conquest, and shows me the immortal crown.
It is faith tells me, that “ light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 233
the upright in heart.” It assures me “that my Redeemer lives, and
that he shall stand at the last day upon the earth; and that, though
after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh I shall see God;
whom I shall see for myself, and not another, and these eyes shall be-
hold, though my reins be consumed within me.” Amen, even so come,
Lord Jesus ! This must be my language till thou dost appear, and
these my impatient breathings after thee. Till I see thy salvation,
my heart and my flesh will pine for the living God.
Grant me, O God, “to fulfil as an hireling my days.” Shorten the
space, and let it be full of action. It is of small importance how few
there are of these little circles of days and hours, so that they are but
well filled up with devotion and all proper duty.
Besides the compositions of Mrs. Rowe which have been already men-
tioned, namely, Friendship in Death, Letters Moral and Entertaining,
The History of Joseph, and The Devout Exercises of the Heart, there
are also two more volumes that go under the name of her Miscellane-
ous Works; the first of which is a collection of her poems written at
various times, and on various occasions; and the other a long series, to
the number of 167, of her familiar lettels to her friends. To the last
volume are added, according to Mrs. Rowe's order, that these poems of
her husband’s should be joined with her own, several essays in poetry
of Mr. Rowe's, which “though,” as the writer of her life observes, “they
were deprived, by the immature death of the author, of his corrections,
yet show so much strength of genius as will easily atone for any slight
inaccuracies.”—“She had no other view,” says the Editor of her Mis-
cellaneous Poems, (Mr. Theophilus Rowe, her brother-in-law,) “in their
publication, to use the words of the letter in which she intrusted them
to my care, but the profit or innocent entertainment of the reader. I
hope, continues she, all my present design is abstractedly the interest
of virtue; for a reputation among mortals is a very insignificant thing
to me, who hope, before these papers are published, to be above their
censure or applause, and to receive the approbation of the Supreme
Judge : but, if they may be of any advantage to the cause of virtue, it
will be a great satisfaction to me.” These volumes, with the compo-
sitions just recited, may be reckoned to complete her works, in which,
we may venture to say, a pious and polite reader will not seek in vain
for instruction and entertainment. “The softness of her sex, and the
fineness of her genius,” says the ingenious Mr. Matthew Prior,” “con-
spire to give her a very distinguishing character.” And this character
is still more distinguishing, as it is mingled with such uncommon piety
and virtue, as we have seen in part, but as will be more conspicuously
shown, while we communicate the picture of the amiable excellencies
of her mind, as drawn by the just-mentioned editor of her Miscel-
lanies. .” *
She had the happiest command over her passions, and maintained a
constant serenity of temper, and sweetness of disposition, that could not
be ruffled with adverse occurrences, nor soured by the approaches of
old age itself. It has been questioned whether she was ever angry in
her whole life; at least with those little infelicities and displeasing
incidents that fell out in common life, which, though really of a trivial
* See his Preface to his Poems. &
30
234 MEMOIRS OF
nature, frequently prove too powerful temptations to indecencies of pas-
sion; but, with her, they were rather the subjects of mirth and agree-
able raillery. It ought also to be observed, as persons are apt to be least
on their guard against excesses of this kind towards inferiors and domes-
tics, that her servant, who lived with her near twenty years, scarce ever
discovered in her mistress any tendency to anger towards herself, or any
warmth of resentment against others, except in the cause of Heaven
against impiety and flagrant crimes; on which occasions some degree
of indignation is not only irreproachable, but truly deserving the name
of commendable and virtuous zeal.
Together with the most manly elevation of genius, Mrs. Rowe possess-
ed all that gentleness and softness of disposition which are so peculiarly
the ornaments of her sex, and was entirely free from that severity of
temper which has made the character of a wit unamiable, if not quite
infamous. Next to impure and profane writings,she expressed the strong-
est aversion against satire, as it is usually so replete with personal malice
and invective. No strokes of this kind can be found in her works; and
her conversation was no less innocent of every appearance of ill-nature
than her writings. She fortified her resolutions against evil-speaking
by particular and solemn vows, as appears by the following sacred en-
gagement, transcribed from her manuscript.
October 6, 1726.
O let me once again bind myself to the Lord, never, by thy grace, to
speak evil of any person. O help me to govern my tongue by the
strictest rules of charity and truth, and newer to utter any evil surmises,
or make the least reflection to the dishonour of my neighbour. Let me
in the minutest circumstances do to others as I would they should act to
me. Let me hope, let me believe all things to the advantage of others.
Give me thy divine assistance to perform this great duty, and set thou a
watch on my words, and keep, O strictly keep the door of my lips, that I
offend not with my tongue. Now let thy grace be sufficient for me, and
thy strength be manifest in my weakness. In thy strength, in the name
of the Lofd, my Redeemer, let me engage with all my future tempta-
tions. Look graciously on this petition, and remember me when I am
in any suspense, any exigence, and am ready to forget my engagements.
In the moment that I shall waver, strengthen me; restrain me when
the malignant thought arises; and, while the yet unuttered words are
ready to issue from my lips, set thou a bridle there, and govern my
rebellious faculty.
Mrs. Rowe strictly regulated her conduct by this solemn vow, and
could hardly think any occasion would justify the report of what was
prejudicial to the reputation of another. “I can appeal,” says she, in
a letter to a lady with whom she had lived in a long and most intimate
friendship, “if you ever knew me make an envious or an ill-natured
reflection on any person upon earth. Indeed, the follies of mankind
would afford a wide and various scene; but charity would draw a veil
of darkness here, and choose to be for ever silent, rather than expatiate
on the melancholy theme.” Scandal and detraction appeared to her
such extreme inhumanity, as no charms of wit and politeness could
make tolerable. If she was forced to be present at such kind of conver-
sation, she had sometimes, when the freedom might be decently used,
°.
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 235
the courage openly to condemn it; “and,” says her biographer, “I
believe always the generosity to undertake the defence of the absent,
when unjustly accused, and to extenuate even their real faults and
errors.”
She was as much a stranger to envy as if it had been impossible for
so base a passion to enter into the human heart, and was always forward
to do justice to every fine writer and illustrious character of the age.
She exceedingly loved to praise, and never failed to observe and applaud
every appearance of merit in those with whom she was acquainted, at
the same time overlooking all their frailties with more than even the
usual partiality of friendship. Yet, though she could have wished to
have made no other use of speech than to commend worth and good-
ness, a sense of duty on some occasions compelled her to reprove; but
the seeming severity of this virtue was tempered by the softest arts of
gentleness and love. . In proof of which, it may not be improper to add,
as an instance of the honest artifice she used to disguise her admonitions,
that she has been frequently observed to commend persons of distin-
guished eminence for one kind of moral worth, before some of her
friends who where deficient in that particular virtue, in hopes that they
might be struck with the beauty of the example, which she proposed to
their imitation in a manner so little liable to give offence.
She had few equals in her excellent turn for conversation. Her wit
was inexhaustible,and she expressed her thoughts in the most beautiful
and flowing language ; and as these uncommon advantages were ac-
companied with an easy goodness and unaffected openness of behaviour,
she powerfully charmed all who conversed with her. A peculiar eleva-
tion of understanding made her despise those trifles which so frequently
dwell on the lips of the fair sex, and she would always have chosen to
talk on important and instructive themes; yet, lest constant discourse
of a serious kind should prove distasteful and wearisome, she some-
times entertained her friends on more gay and indifferent subjects. But,
as soon as a transition could be made without the appearance of affec-
tation, she returned to her favourite topics, on which she exerted all her
exquisite talents to recommend the most exact morality and sublime
piety, so that it seemed impossible to be in her company without growing
wiser and better, or to leave it without regret.
Mrs. Rowe's wit, beauty,” and merit, had even from her youth con-
ciliated to her much compliment and praise, and these from such judges
of worth as might have given some tincture of vanity to her mind. Yet,
amidst all these temptations to pride, she retained all the humility of the
meanest and most obscure person of the human race. She rarely men-
tioned any of her writings, even to her most intimate friends, nor ever
discovered the least elation of mind at their great success, and the ap-
probation they received from some of the finest writers of the age. The
* Her person is thus described by the writer of her life. “Though she was not a regular
beauty, yet she possessed a large measure of the charms of her sex. She was of a moderate
stature, her hair of a fine auburn colour, and her eyes of a darkish grey, inclinable to blue,
and full of fire. Her complexion was exquisitely fair, and a natural rosy blush glowed in her
cheeks. She spoke gracefully, and her voice was exceeding sweet and harmonious, and per-
fectly suited to that gentle language which always flowed from her lips. But the softness
and benevolence of her aspect were beyond all description. They inspired irresistible love,
yet not without some mixture of that awe and veneration which distinguished sense and vir.
tue apparent in the countenance are wont to create.”
236 MEMOIRS OF .
praises with which her works were honoured, only led her to ascribe the
glory to the Original of all perfection, on whose power she maintained
a constant sense of her dependence, and with the most grateful piety
owned her obligations to the Divine goodness. “It is but for Heaven,”
said she, “to give a turn to one of my nerves, and I should be an idiot.”
She assumed no indecent share in conversation,and has been frequently
known to be silent on subjects she well understood, and on which she
could have displayed her capacity to great advantage. Her friends
could not fail to observe the modest care she took in avoiding the mention
of any thing that could tend to her own honour; “Nor can I remem-
ber,” says the above-mentioned Mr. Theophilus Rowe, her husband’s
brother, “during the long intimacy with which she favoured me, one
expression of vanity, or sense of her own worth, that might in the least
stain her humility. She never dictated to others, nor arrogated any re-
spect and deference to her own sentiments, but, in conversing with per-
son of parts and abilities far beneath her own, seemed to study to make
the superiority of hel genius easy to them by the most obliging goodness,
and condescension of behaviour. Nor were her aſſability and readiness
of access to those of the lowest rank less remarkable and exemplary.
It was impossible for her to treat any one with insolence or contempt.
On the contrary, as she infinitely loved and reverenced true goodness,
I have been witness of the real and peculiar respect she paid to sincere
piety, when great degrees of ignorance and extremely mean circumstan-
ces might have quite obscured it to less humble and generous minds.”
She was perfectly untainted with the love of pleasure, which is so
inimical to religion and virtue. She was ignorant of every polite and
fashionable game. Play, she believed to be at best but an art of losing
time, and forgetting to think; but when she reflected on the fatal con-
sequences that attend a fond attachment to cards and dice, she had even
an horror of them. Her taste was too just to relish those insipid trifles
called Novels and Romances, and which not unfrequently are worse
than insipid, being filled with indecent images, which pollute the ima-
gination, and shock every chaste mind. She would indeed have es-
teemed the diversions of the English theatre, especially those of the
tragic kind, capable of affording the most noble and rational pleasure,
if she could have believed them innocent; but so few of them appear-
ed to her inoffensive to virtue, that she thought it fit to abstain from
those entertainments, which, in her opinion, generally tended to promote
impurity of manners, and expose piety to scorn and ridicule. The gran-
deur of her soul preserved her from any fondness for luxury in food, judg-
ing it much beneath the dignity of a being possessed of reason, and born
for immortality. She was always pleased with whatever she found on
her table ; and neither the kind of her food, nor the manner of dress-
ing it, gave her any uneasiness; for, if, in either of these respects, it was
not perfectly agreeable, it only afforded her a subject of wit and pleasant-
ry, instead of occasioning any disgust or serious resentment. She mixed
in no parties of pleasure, and extremely despised the trivial and un-
instructive conversation of formal visits, which she avoided, at least as
much as decency would allow ; and indeed (except drawing) she had
almost an equal contempt for every thing that bears the name of diver-
sion and amusement, even of the most innocent kind. “But I con-
fess,” says her Biographer, “this part of the character of this excellent
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 237
lady may not be so fit for general imitation; for, though the constant
vivacity and cheerfulness of Mrs. Rowe's natural temper might possibly
seem to set her above the necessity of allowing herself some intervals
of amusement to relax the mind, yet, such great abstinence from every
kind of recreation might, in some persons, tend to sour the mind with
austere and unamiable dispositions, or at least to depress the spirits
to such a degree of melancholy as would unfit them for the necessary
duties and offices of life.”
She had a contempt of riches that has been rarely equalled. As she
expressed herself much pleased with the moderate fortune allotted her
by the Divine Providence, which afforded her ease and plenty to the
extent of her wishes, so, she never pursued any designs to advance her
circumstances in life. She could not be persuaded to publish her works
by subscription, or even to accept the advantageous terms of the book-
seller, if she would permit her scattered pieces to be collected and pub-
lished together. She never saw a court; and if she has occasionally
mentioned with honour some of the princes under whose reigns she
lived, it was only from a sincere veneration for them as the supporters
of liberty, which inestimable blessing she justly valued, and without
the least expectation of any reward beyond the pleasure of showing
her gratitude to those who appeared to her public blessings to their
country. The high esteem she expressed for some of her friends of
distinguished rank, was equally free from the suspicion of interested
views; for, as she gained nothing by their friendship but the plea-
sures of their conversation, and an acquaintance with their virtues, the
praises she gave them ought only to be considered as the incense due to
merit. The love of money, she thought the most sordid and ignoble
of passions, and frequently lamented its too general prevalence over the
human mind. She did not know her own estates from others, till some
motives of prudence obliged her to inform herself, when she apprehend-
ed she was soon to leave them ; and she was so far from that rigour
in exacting her due which approaches to inhumanity, that her neglect
of her interest may rather be censured as carried to an extreme. She
let her estates below their intrinsic value, as appeared by the consider-
able advance of their rents after her decease; and she was so gentle
to her tenants, that she not only had no lawsuit with any of them, but
would not so much as suffer them to be threatened with the seizure of
their goods on the neglect of the payment of their rents. Several in-
stances might be adduced, in which she voluntarily departed from her
right, when she had the strongest claim of equity. She could scarce
bear the mention of injustice without trembling ; and the tenderness
and delicacy of her conscience with regard to this sin, were so great,
that she hardly could keep far enough from it. “I can appeal to thee,”
says she, in an address to God, “how scrupulously I have acted in matters
of equity, and how willingly I have injured myself to right others.”
She spoke with much emotion of the extreme danger of any dishonest
and fraudulent practice, and expressed her wonder how persons could
die with any tranquillity of mind under the least degree of such kind
of guilt.
Mrs. Rowe's indifference to glory was very remarkable. As she seemed
to shun fame by concealing herself, during almost the whole of her life,
238 MEMOIRS OF
in an obscure solitude, so she practised no arts to promote her reputation.
She would not so much as allow her name to be prefixed to any of her
works, excepting perhaps some few poems in the earlier part of life; and
though this occasioned several of her works to be ascribed to other hands,
she did not alter the modesty of her conduct. When the intended to
communicate to the world Friendship in Death, she showed the manu-
script to no more than one person, on whose secrecy she could rely; and
after he had, by her order, copied it in his own hand, she sent it to Dr.
Young, only knowing him by his works, and inscribed his name to the
dedication, in hopes that, being published by him, and appearing under
the patronage of his name, all her acquaintance would imagine this
piece to be written by some friend of that eminent poet. And when the
beauties of Mrs. Rowe's manner of writing discovered the true author, and
the performance began to be universally admired, she still continued to
avoid owning it, as far as was consistent with the strictest truth. She even
declined the honor due to her ashes and memory after death; for, whenshe
selected from her manuscript volume of devotions some exercises of piety,
with a view to their publication after her decease, she studiously omitted
those parts that would have discovered her unexampled charity and
other virtues, which most conciliate the esteem and veneration of the
world. Nor could any thing, perhaps, says her Biographer, “but the
suddenness of her death, have prevented her committing to the flames
her manuscript volume of devotions, which has so often assisted me in
my attempt to do justice to her character.” The same modest disposi-
tion of mind appears in the orders she left in writing to her servant; in
which, after having desired that her funeral might be by night, and attend-
ed only by a small number of friends, she adds; “Charge Mr. Bowden
not to say one word of me in the sermon. I would lie in my father's
grave, and have no stone nor inscription over my vile dust, which I
gladly leave to corruption and oblivion, till it rise to a glorious immor-
tality.”
Mrs. Rowe was exemplary for every relative duty. Filial piety was a
remarkable part of her character. She loved the best of fathers as she
ought, and repaid his uncommon care and tenderness by all just returns
of duty and affection. She has often been heard to say, “That she
could die rather than do any thing to displease him ;” and the anguish
she felt at seeing him in pain in his last sickness, was so great, that it
occasioned some kind of convulsion; a disorder from which she was
wholly free in every other part of her life.
When she had entered into the marriage state, the highest esteem
and most tender affection appeared in all her conduct to Mr. Rowe ; and
by the most gentle manners, and the exercise of every social virtue, she
confirmed the empire she had gained over his heart. She made it her
study, to soften the anxieties, and heighten all the satisfactions of his
life. Mr. Rowe had some mixture of natural warmth in his temper, of
which he had not always a perfect command. If, at any time, this
broke out into some little excesses of anger, it never awakened any pas-
sion of the like kind in Mrs. Rowe, but, on the contrary, she always
remained mistress of herself, and siudied, by the gentlest language and
tenderest endearment, to restore Mr. Rowe's mind to that calmness
which reason approves; and she equally endeavoured, in every other
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 239
instance, by the softest arts of persuasion, and in a manner remote from
all airs of superiority, to lead him on towards that perfection of virtue,
to which she herself aspired with the truest Christian zeal. During the
long illness which ended in his death, she scarce ever stirred from him
a moment, and alleviated his severe affliction, by performing, with in-
conceivable tenderness and assiduity, all the offices of compassion suited
to his melancholy situation. She partook of his sleepless nights, and
never quitted his bed unless to serve him, or watch by him ; and, as she
could scarce be persuaded to forsake even his breathless clay, so, she
consecrated her future years to his memory with resolutions of perpetual
widowhood, which she inviolably maintained. Her conduct in this last
instance, on the review of it, after an interval of several years, and in
the near prospect of death, afforded her great satisfaction ; for she thus
expresses herself in a letter intended after her own decease to be deli-
vered to Mrs. Arabella-Marrow, if that lady had survived her. “The
solitude in which I have spent my time, since Mr. Rowe's death, has
given me leisure to make the darkness of the grave, and the solemnity
of dying, familiar scenes tomy imagination. Whatever such distinguished
sense and merit could claim, I have endeavoured to pay my much-loved
husband’s memory. I reflect with pleasure on my conduct on this occa-
sion, not only from a principle of justice and gratitude to him, but from
a conscious sense of honour, and love of a virtuous reputation after death.
But if the soul, in a separate state, should be insensible of human censure
or applause, yet, there is a disinterested homage due to the sacred name
of virtue.”
She mourned over the deaths, first of her husband, and afterwards of
her father, with all that tenderness and sensibility which ought to touch
every generous heart at the loss of the dearest persons on earth; yet,
her submission to the determinations of Divine Providence was exem-
plary, and she never presumed to breathe any criminal murmurs against
the will of Heaven, which is ever just and good, or behaved in these
dark hours of distress and temptation in a manner unsuitable to that
eminent piety which appeared in every other part of her life.
She was a gentle and kind mistress, treating her servants with great
condescension and goodness, and almost with the affability of a friend
and equal. She caused due care to be taken of them whenever they
were ill, and did not think it misbecame her to sit by the bed of a sick
servant to read to her books of piety. The tenderness of her humanity
would not suffer her to be offended with light faults; and, as she never
dismissed any one from her family, “so,” says her Biographer, “I think
none of her servants ever left her, but with a view to the changing their
condition by marriage.” She knew when she was well served, and
reposed so much trust in those whose fidelity she had experienced, that
it might verge on excess. “Yet, even such great confidence,” con-
tinues her Biographer, “ was due to that servant who was with Mrs.
Rowe at the time of her death, whose long and faithful duty to her
mistress, and remarkable sorrow for her loss, deserve to be mentioned
with honour.”
Mrs. Rowe was a warm and generous friend, just, if not partial, to the
merit of those whom she loved, and most gentle and candid to their
errors. But. in a distinguished manner, she studied to promote their
240 - MEMOIRS OF
most important interest, by inciting them to the practice of whatever
was pleasing in the sight of God, and would be crowned with his peculiar
favour. This she proposed as the best end of friendship. . .
She was not entirely free from the attacks of malice, that she might
not be without the opportunity of exercising the divine spirit of forgive-
ness; yet, one could scarce learn from her discourse, that she had an
enemy, for she was not wont to complain of any indecent conduct or
injuries done to herself. So that it was apparent that such treatment
made light impressions on her mind, or that she had endeavoured to
suppress them with that happiest success.
Her charities were so great, if we consider the mediocrity of her for-
tune, that they can scarce be paralleled. They were indeed only
limited by the utmost extent of her power ; for she devoted the whole
of her income,besides what was barely sufficient for the necessities of life,
to the relief of the indigent and distressed. This, her manuscript åc-
quaints us with in the following vow, which, as it evinces a heart
glowing with the love of God and mankind, is worthy of the highest
praise. But, as this solemn engagement involved Mrs. Rowe in some
perplexities, it seems peculiarly fit to add, that her example ought not
to influence pious minds to fetter themselves in things not absolutely
commanded, since the observation of such vows may be attended with
unforeseen difficulties, injurious to the future peace of their lives.
“I consecrate,” says Mrs. Rowe, in this her solemn vow, “ half my
yearly income to charitable uses. And though by this, according to
human appearances, I have reduced myself to some necessity, I cast
all my care on that gracious God to whom I am devoted, and to whose
truth I subscribe with my hand. I attest his faithfulness, and bring in my
testimony to the veracity of his word. I set to my seal that God is true,
and, O ! by the God of truth I swear to perform this, and beyond this.
For if thou wilt indeed bless me, and enlarge my coast, all that I have
beyond the bare convenience and necessity of life shall be the Lord’s.
And O grant me sufficiency, that I may abound in every good work 1
O let me be the messenger of consolation to the poor Here am I, Lord,
send me. Let me have the honour to administer to the necessities of
my brethren. I am indeed unworthy to wipe the feet of the least of the
servants of my Lord, much more unworthy of this glorious commis-
sion ; and yet, O send me, for thy goodness is free Send whom
thou wilt on embassies to the kings and rulers of the earth, but let me
be a servant to the servants of my Lord. Let me administer consola-
tion and relief to the afflicted members of my exalted and glorious
Redeemer. Let this be my lot, and I give the glories of the world to
the wind.”
Pursuant to this sacred vow,which,as she expresses herself in another
place of her manuscript, was not made in an hour of fear and distress,
but in the joy and gratitude of her soul, she not only avoided all super-
fluous expenses in dress and luxury ; but, through an excess of bene-
volence, if there can be any excess in such a godlike disposition, to
enlarge her abilities of doing good to her fellow-creatures, she denied
herself what might in some sense be called the necessaries of life.
Misery and indigence were a sufficient recommendation to her com-
passionate regard and assistance; yet, she showed a distinguished rea-
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 241
*
diness to alleviate the afflictions of persons of merit and virtue; and
one who had the best opportunity of making the observation, declared,
that she never knew any such apply to Mrs. Rowe without success.
The first time she accepted of an acknowledgment from the booksel-
ler for any of her works, she bestowed the whole sum on a family in
distress; and there is great reason to believe that she employed all
the money that she ever received on such an account, in as generous a
manner. Once, when she had not by her a sum large enough to sup-
ply the like necessities of another family, she readily sold a piece of plate
for this purpose. It was her custom, on going abroad, to furnish her-
self with pieces of money of different value, that she might relieve any
objects of compassion who should fall in her way, according to their se-
veral degrees of merit or indigence. “Nor was her munificence confin-
ed to the neighbourhood of the place where she lived, but, during her
residence in the country, she sent large sums to London, and other dis-
tant parts. She contributed to some designs that had the appearance of
charity, though she could not approve of them in every respect; observ-
ing, “ that it was fit sometimes to give for the credit of religion, when
other inducements were wanting, that the professors of Christianity
might not be charged with covetousness;” a vice which she so much
abhorred, that scarce any grosser kind of immorality could more effec-
tually exclude a person from her friendship. “I never,” said she,
“grudge any money but when it is laid out upon myself, for I consider
:how much it would buy for the poor.” Besides the sums which she
gave away, and the distribution of books on practical subjects, she em-
ployed her own hands in labours of charity to clothe the necessitous.
This she did, not only for the natives of the Lower Palatinate, when
they were driven from their country by the rage of war, which appeared
a calamity peculiarly worthy of compassion, but it was her frequent em-
ployment to make garments of almost every kind, and bestow them on
those who wanted them. She discovered a strong sense of humanity,
and often showed her exquisite concern for the unhappy, by weeping
over their distresses. These were the generous tears of virtue, and not
of any feminine weakness, for she was rarely observed to weep at
afflictions that befell herself. She was indeed so sensibly affected with
the miseries of the poor, as not only to send her servants to examine
what they stood in need of when they were sick, but often visited them
in person, when they were so wretched that their houses were not fit for
her to enter into, and even when their distempers were highly malignant
and contagious. One kind of munifience in which she greatly delight-
ed, was causing children to be taught to read and work. These she
furnished with supplies of clothing, as well as bibles, and other ne-
cessary books of instruction. This she she did not only at Frome,
but also at a neighbouring village, where part of her estate lay. And
when she met in the streets with children of promising countenances
who were perfectly unknown to her, if, upon inquiry, it appeared
that through the poverty of their parents, they were not put to
school, she added them to the number of those who were taught at her
own expense. She condescended herself to instruct them in the plain
and necessary principles and duties of religion ; and the grief she felt
when any of them did not answer the hopes she had entertained, was
31
242 MEMOIRS OF
equal to the great satisfaction she received, when it appeared that her
care and bounty had been well placed. She was also a contributer to
a charitable institution at Frome, of a more public nature, though
according to the general custom of such schools, all who were educated,
in it, were obliged to worship God in that one particular form from
which she herself took the liberty to dissent. In truth, her charities
were not confined to those of her own party or sentiments, but bestowed
on indigent persons of almost all the sects into which Christianity
is divided ; and even those whose religious opinions seemed to her
of the most dangerous consequence, were large recipients of her
bounty. Nor was her beneficence limited to those only who in strict
terms might be called poor, for, as she was wont to say, “It is one of
the greatest benefits that can be done to mankind, to free them from the
cares and anxieties that attend a narrow fortune;” in pursuance of
which generous sentiments, she has been often known to make large
presents to persons who were not in the last extremes of indigence.
With regard to those whose circumstances were such that the acceptance
of alms might have put their modesty to some pain, she studied to spare
their blushes, while she relieved their wants. When one such person of
acquaintance was in some distress, she contrived to lose at play a sum
of money sufficient to supply the necessity of the case, which was per-
haps the only time she touched a card in her whole life. She possessed
in an eminent degree the art of giving, for she knew how to heighten
every favour by the ready and obliging manner in which she conferred
it. Indeed, to the poor she seemed a ministering angel. Her goodness
prevented their requests ;* and smiles, gentle language, and the warm-
est expressions of good-will, always accompanied her substantial acts
of mercy. The distressed were encouraged to disclose all their wants
by the kindest assurances of relief; and she treated them with the
sweetness and easy goodness of a friend, rather than the superiority
of a benefactress. Nor was she inclined to take offence at the appear-
ance of ingratitude in her dependants. When she chanced to overhear
some unthankful poor, who sat down at her servants’ table, murmur at
their food, though she had fed upon the same herself, she only put this
gentle construction on their behaviour. “That they expected some-
thing better than ordinary at her table ;” and she was so far from
resenting this indecent delicacy of appetite, that she did not even at
that time omit the alms she usually gave when indigent persons were
entertained at her house.
It is truly astonishing how the moderate estate Mrs. Rowe possessed,
could supply such various and extensive benefactions; and her own
sense of this once broke out to an intimate friend. “I am surprised,”
said she to her, “how it is possible my estate should answer all these
things, when I consider what I do ; and yet, I never want money.”
This she only spoke to give honour to the Divine blessing, which, as
she was wont to acknowledge with great piety, protected her from losses,
.* “These hands will shortly be stiff and useless in the grave, that are now capable of dis-
tributing to the necessities of the poor and afflicted, if thou wouldst give me the glad com-
mission. Osend me, the ready messenger of consolation, to their wants and distress!, Hear
#. .ngº and prayers for me !. Before they asked, I have heard their wants.”—MS.
©VOtton S.
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 243
and succeeded all her affairs; for it would be extreme injustice to inter-
pret her expressions of gratitude to the goodness of Providence in a
different manner, since her great care to conceal her charities from the
observation of mortals, gives the highest evidence that no love of human
applause tainted the purity of her benevolent dispositions.
Mrs. Rowe's writings give a faithful picture of her soul. Her pro-
found humility, and supreme affection to God, her faith in his promises,
and dependence on his providence, her zeal for his glory, and love to
the holiness of his laws, appear in the strongest light in her works.
But, as it would too much swell these memoirs to transcribe her senti-
ments on these heads, we shall only relate the means she made use of
to cultivate these Divine graces, with the addition of some passages from
her manuscripts, that bear the amplest testimony to the truth and vi-
gour of her piety, and the connexion and communion of her soul with
her God.
She devoted herself to the service of Heaven in a solemn covenant,
which has a place among the Devout Exercises of her heart, and is thus
entitled :
J1 Covenant with God.
Incomprehensible Being, who searchest the hearts, and triest the
reins of the children of men, thou knowest my sincerity, and my thoughts
are all unveiled to thee. I am surrounded with thine immensity.
Thou art a present, though invisible witness of the solemn affair in
which I am now engaged. I am now taking hold of thy strength, that
I may make peace with thee, and entering into articles with the Al-
mighty God. These are the happy days long since predicted, when
one shall say, I am the Lord's, and another shall call himself by the
name of Israel, and another shall subscribe with his hand to the Lord:
and I will be their God, and they shall be my people, saith the Lord
Jehovah.
With the most thankful sincerity I take hold on this covenant, as it is
more fully manifested and explained in the gospel by Jesus Christ; and,
humbly accepting thy proposals, I bind myself to thee by a sacred and
everlasting obligation. By a free and deliberate action, I do here ratify
the articles which were made for me in baptism in the name of the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. I religiously devote myself to
thy service, and entirely submit to thy conduct. I renounce the glo-
ries and vanities of the world, and choose thee as my happiness, my su-
preme felicity, and everlasting portion. I make no article with thee for
any thing besides. Deny or give me what thou wilt, I will never repine
while my principal treasure is sure. This is my deliberate, my free and
sincere determination; a determination which, by thy grace, I will ne-
Ver retra.Ct.
O thou, by whose power alone I shall be able to stand, put thy fear
in my heart, that I may never depart from thee. Let not the world with
all its flatteries, nor death nor hell with all their terrors,force me to violate
this sacred vow. O let me never live to abandon thee, nor draw the
impious breath that would deny thee!
And now let surrounding angels witness for me, that I solemnly devote
244 MEMOIRS OF
all the powers and faculties of my soul to thy service; and when I pre-
sumptuously employ any of the advantages thou hast given me to thy
dishonour, let them testify against me, and let my own words condemn
Iſle.
ELIZABETH Rowe.
Thus have I subscribed to thy gracious proposals, and engaged myself
to be the Lord's. And now let the malice of men and the rage of devils
combine against me; I can defy all their stratageins, for God himself
has become my Friend, Jesus is my all-sufficient Saviour, and the Spirit
of God, I trust, will be my Sanctifier and my Comforter.
O happy day ! transporting moment the brightest period of my life
Heaven with all its light smiles upon me ! What glorious mortal can
now excite my envy'ſ What scene to tempt my ambition could the whole
creation display'ſ Let glory call me with her exalted voice; let pleasure
with a softer eloquence allure me; the world in all its splendour appears
but a trifle, while the infinite God is my portion. He is mine by assure
a title as eternal veracity can confer. The right is unquestionable ; the
conveyance unalterable. The mountains shall be removed, and the hills
dissolved, before the everlasting obligation shall be cancelled.
“In this covenanting with God,” says the writer of her life, “Mrs.
Rowe imitated the example of her pious mother, to whose sacred engage-
ment of this kind she made the following addition, which evidently
appears by the hand to be written in her younger years:
“My God, and my father’s God, who keepest covenant and mercy to
a thousand generations, I call thee to witness, that, with all the sincerity
of my soul, I consent to this covenant, and stand to the solemn dedica-
tion made of me in baptism ; and to this I God’s high name my awful
witness make : and thus, with the utmost willingness and joy, Isubscribe
with my hand to the Lord,
I g “E. SINGER.”
And beneath, in the same paper, she writes thus: “ Renewed, Sept.
1728. When I am standing before the Judge of all the earth to be
sentenced for all eternity, let this contract be an evidence that I renounce
the world, and take the supreme God for my portion and happiness.”
But her manuscript, of which Mr. Rowe has made such excellent use
in the Life he has given of her, affords the following larger renewal of
this sacred covenant; which, long as it is, is too valuable to be withheld
from our readers, especially as it shows the interior, if we may so speak,
of Mrs. Rowe's soul, in respect of its holy and happy temper and state
towards God. *
“Let me renew my vows, O God! to thee. Let me repeat the sa-
cred obligation. Let my soul collect its powers. Let me, if possible,
make my ties more strong—more entirely devote myself to thee. With
what pleasure do I reflect on the obligations I am under to be thine !
I bless the sacred engagement, and would not be free for ten thousand
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 245
worlds. I never knew an happy moment till I was thine. All my
joys are dated from that blessed period. Thence they took their spring,
and thence they will for ever flow. Otherefore let me joyfully renew
my vows to thee. Let angels instruct me how to confirm them. Let
them teach me their forms, and give me their flames. Let all be noble,
and pathetic, and solemn, as their immortal vows. I would bind my-
self beyond the ties that mortals know. But I cannot speak with the
ardour I wish. I cannot find words to express the vehemence of my
soul. But O thou, who canst understand those desires which language
fails me to utter, accept the sincerity of my heart, regard and accept my
vows, and O let them be confirmed for ever !
“ Attend, ye angels let heaven and earth hear me ! let the most
high God, the possessor of heaven and earth, himself be my witness I
For even to him dare I appeal, from whom no disguise can veil my
thoughts; even thy sacred, name I dare attest, whose favour is my hope,
and whose frown is the only thing I can fear. Yet, my words are not
the effect of terror and distress, but of reason and love. No action of
my life was ever more deliberate and voluntary. My soul gives its en-
tire assent, and offers up all its powers. I make no reserve. Thou hast
my whole, my undivided heart.
“O thou that lookest down from the exaltations of thy Majesty, that
ridest upon the heavens in thine excellency, and thence dost not disdain
to be a Father to the fatherless, and the Judge of the widow, I come
to thee destitute, forlorn, abandoned of every name of joy or confidence
on earth. I have found all the specious titles and relations among men
to be vanity and a lie. But I rejoice in the conviction ; I bless the
happy circumstance that has thrown a reproach on all human trust,
that has broken my engagements with every thing below, and forced
me, friendless and defenceless, to fly to thee. Oreceive me with the
affection of a Father: take me into thy tenderest care and protection :
O remember thy covenant with my pious ancestors, to be a God to them,
and their seed after them, by an everlasting covenant l Thy compas-
sions exceed those of the tenderest relation on earth. Thou dost delight
to exercise loving-kindness and truth in the earth. Thou art the God
of all grace and consolation. These are thy free, thy natural operations;
fury is not in thee: thy name, thy boasted name, is LovE, and thou dost
never deviate from its gentle dictates. It is the beginning and end of
all thy works; the glorious end thou hadst from all eternity in view.
Thou dost not withdraw thine eyes from this design, but hast set thine
heart upon it from everlasting to everlasting. Goodness and compassion
for ever flow from thee. Thou canst not restrain those glorious emana-
tions. They will, and must for ever stream from thee, the infinite
abyss, the spring of goodness, the sum, the plenitude of joy, its never-
failing source.
“O thou that hast purchased my soul with thine own blood, before
God and angels I put it into thy custody . With thee I solemnly deposit
the sacred pledge. Into thy hand I commit the precious treasure. It
is my all, my very being. O form it after thy pleasure, and secure it
from the stratagems of hell! I am surrounded with danger, and a
thousand unseen snares attend me. I have but one cast for eternity.
Look with eyes of pity on my impotence and distress. I fly to
246 * MEMOIRS OF
thee; let me find an hiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the
tempest.
“I am not, I cannot be my own keeper. Flesh and blood are too
weak to struggle with principalities and powers, and the rulers of
darkness in high places. The combination is too strong for unas-
sisted nature to conquer. Thou knowest, my strength is but weak-
ness, my wisdom folly, my natural light all darkness. I know not
the next step before me; and if I stumble, it will bring reproach on
thine holy ways.
“I am on the Lord’s side. I am in league with thee against the con-
federacy of hell. I list myself under thy banners to oppose the king-
dom of darkness. Give me strength and wisdom to encounter all oppo-
sition. Let me never be left to my own conduct, or dishonour thy
cause by any weakness or inadvertency. O thou who dost not slumber
nor sleep, watch my goings, and let none of my footsteps slide O foun-
tain of love and grace, let me feel thy present influence 1 There is no
relation in all nature so near as that between God and a virtuous mind;
and wilt thou not adorn it with those graces which are capable of being
improved for ever ?
“In the name of the Lord God of Hosts, the God of the armies of
Israel, let me conquer the principalities and powers of darkness. I
have taken thy word for my defence. I have fled to the name of the
Lord for safety. Let me rejoice, let me triumph in that sanctuary, nor
know a thought of diffidence or fear. Let me hope against hope, be-
lieve above belief, with confidence worthy of that power on which I
trust, and of that veracity which is engaged to protect me. Be the
powers of hell confounded while I make my boast in the Lord, and rejoice
in thy salvation.
“I can, I must, I dare set to my seal, that God is true. I need not
scruple to affirm what thou hast attested. I may without hesitation
give my assent to the word of the living God. Let not my footsteps
slide. Keep me in the ways of life and salvation. Direct every motion,
for thou art my only counsellor. Leave me not to choose for myself.
Give me no advantage but what I may employ for thy glory. Cancel
every prayer that has not been agreeable to thy will. I retract every
petition whose success will not centre in thine interest. It is thee, and
not myself, that I would honour. It is thee I would live and die for.
Make thine own terms: let them be what they will, I take thee for
my only portion for this life, and for all eternity; and with full consent
I subscribe with my hand to the Lord.
* E. Row E.”
Sept. 11, 1725, Mrs. Rowe's birth-day.
This excellent woman practised secret prayer three times a-day, as
appears by this resolution taken from her manuscript. “At morning, at
noon, and at night, I will praise thee, and pay my homage to the su-
preme and independent Being.” And as she was used to say, “ that
we ought to consecrate our brightest intervals to the service of Hea-
ven;” agreeably to these just sentiments, she employed those parts of
*
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. - 247
the day in which she believed the powers of the mind more free and
active, as seasons of holy retirement. But it was judged by one who
was well acquainted with her, that her devotions were rather frequent,
than protracted to such an undue length, as might tend to distract the
attention, and fatigue and exhaust the spirits.
She had a high veneration and love for the Lord’s-day, which, abstain-
ing from worldly affairs and pleasures, she wholly consecrated to the
service of religion. No slight indisposition, nor severity of weather,
prevented her constant attendance on public worship, at which her
attention and reverent behaviour showed the utmost composure and
elevation of soul. She also, in imitation of our blessed Saviour’s exam-
ple of doing good on the Sabbath, sanctified the Lord's day by enter-
taining a number of poor people at her house, and by an abundant distri-
bution of her charity. But her devout regard to the public worship of
Godwill best appear by the following passage extracted from the manu-
script volume of her devotions:
* I solemnly,” says she, “set apart one day in the week, if possible
Saturday, for my retired devotions, to prepare myself for the noble em-
ployment of public worship; and then let all the powers of my soul be
exercised in love and humble adoration. Let me make more sensible
approaches to the propitious Being whom unseen I love; and let him fill
me with the ineffable delights his presence affords, and make me joyful
in the house of prayer. Let me be abundantly satisfied with the fatness
of his house, and drink of the rivers of his pleasure.”
She never neglected any opportunity of partaking of the Holy Com-
munion, for which she had the highest affection and reverence ; and
the same manuscript that has been so often cited, will show what devout
and virtuous resolutions she made at such sacred seasons.
“With every sacrament let me renew my strength, and with the bread
of life receive immortal vigour. Let me remember thy vows, O God!
and at my return to the world, let me commit my ways to thee. Let
me be absolutely resigned to thy providence, nor once distrust thy good-
ness and fidelity. Let me be careful for nothing, but with prayer and
supplication make my wants known to thee. Let the most awful sense
of thy presence dwell on my heart, and always keep me in a serious
disposition. Let me be merciful and just in my actions, calm and regular
in my thoughts; and O do thou set a watch on my mouth, and keep
the door of my lips | Let me speak evil of no man; let me advance the
reputation of the virtuous, and never be silent in the praise of merit. Let
my tongue speak the language of my heart, and be guided by exact
truth and perfect sincerity. Let me open my hands wide to the wants
of the poor, in full confidence that my heavenly Father will supply mine,
and that the High Possessor of heaven and earth will not fail to restore,
in the hour of my distress, what I have parted with for his sake.
“O let thy grace be sufficient for me, and thy strength be manifest in
weakness. Be present with me in the hour of temptation, and confirm
the pious resolutions thou hast enabled me to form.” -
She had an inexpressible love and veneration for the Holy Scriptures,
and was assiduous in reading them, particularly the New Testament,
the Psalms, and those parts of the prophetical writings which relate to
*
248 MEMOIRS OF
our blessed Saviour. For some time before her death, she scarce read
any thing besides these sacred books, and practical treatises on religious
subjects. She was also used to assist her improvement in holiness and
the Christian life, by frequent meditations on the blessedness of a fu-
ture state, the perfections of God, particularly his infinite goodness and
mercy in the redemption of the world by Jesus Christ, and on other
important articles of religion, which appeared best suited to promote
devout and holy dispositions. Besides these her usual exercises of
piety, she observed some stated seasons of abstinence and extraordi-
nary devotion.
The fervour of her zeal in the cause of godliness was beyond the rate
of common examples. As she could not command her tears of trans-
port, when she was witness to any eminent instance of piety, so, the
declining state of religion rent her very soul ; and as she saw with in-
expressible grief the fatal advances of infidelity in this nation, she spoke
with the highest esteem and gratitude of those excellent persons who
defended Christianity by their learned writings, and truly venerated them
as public benefactors to mankind.
Mrs. Rowe seemed to be peculiarly formed for the practice of sublime
and ardent piety. It was the supreme pleasure of her life. Yet, her
own words assure us, that she did not set too high a value on strong
emotions of the passions and religious fervours ; and her love of devo-
tion was joined with the utmost regard to social virtue. She thus ex-
presses herself in a letter to a noble friend : “I have written no pious
meditations of late. The warmth of devotion, perhaps, as well as that
of the other passions, declines with life; but I hope the calm, the rea-
sonable, and solid part of religion will be still improved.” She affected
no kind of singularity, or appearance of severity, nor presumed to cen-
sure those who came not up to that strictness to which she obliged
herself; and she was so far from imposing any methods of devout life
on others, to whom, on account of their difference of temper, and deep-
er engagements in the business of the world, they might be inexpedi-
ent, that she did not recommend them, “ or I think,” says Mr. Rowe,
“so much as mention them to her most intimate friends; but, on the
contrary, studied concealment so much, that it is only from her manu-
script, and the information of her servant, from whom they could not
be hid, that I have arrived at the knowledge of the greater part of them
since her death.”
She possessed a large measure of serenity and cheerfulness of temper.
This happy disposition of mind, which is more than once recommended in
the sacred writings, and is so great an ornament to true piety, continued
with her to her last moments; so that, excepting some intervals of gene-
rous grief occasioned by her devout and social affections, her whole life
seemed not only a constant calm, but a perpetual sunshine.
Mrs. Rowe's friendships were founded on virtue, but not a perfect
agreement in those smaller matters which divide us as Christians and
Englishmen. She was favoured with the esteem and acquaintance of
the Countess of Winchelsea, the Wiscountess Weymouth, the Wiscoun-
tess Scudamore, the Lady Carteret, the Lady Brooke, the Honourable
Mrs. Thynne, the Earl of Orrery, Dr Ken, Bishop of Bath and Wells, Sir
Richard Blackmore, Dr. Watts, Mr. Prior, Mr. Grove, &c. “But above
MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 249
all,” says the writer of her life, “she possessed the highest degree of
friendship with another illustrious ornament of the age, which, as it be-
gan as soon as ever her ladyship was capable of this generous passion,
so it continued without the least interruption to the last moments of
Mrs. Rowe's life : and it gives me great pleasure that I can conclude
the character of a lady whose memory ought to be most dear to me,
with this testimony to her virtue and merit, that her life was honoured
with the friendship, and her death lamented with the tears, of the Coun-
tess of Hertford.” 3.
A large Collection of Poems, by several hands, in honour of Mrs.
Rowe, is prefixed to her Miscellaneous Works. We shall select only
one, of distinguished excellence.
To JMrs. ELIZABETH SINGER, on the sight of some of her divine Poems,
never printed.
I.
On the fair banks of gentle Thames
I tun'd my harp : nor did celestial themes
Refuse to dance upon my strings.
There beneath the evening sky
I sung my cares asleep, and rais'd my wishes high
To everlasting things.
Sudden from Albion's western coast
Harmonious notes come gliding by :
The neighb’ring shepherds knew the silver sound,
“”Tis Philomela'sf voice,” the neighb'ring shepherds cry.
At once my strings all silent lic,
At once my fainting muse was lost,
In the superior sweetness drown'd.
In vain I bid my tuneful pow'rs unite;
My soul retir’d, and left my tongue;
I was all ear, and Philomela's song
Was all divine delight.
July 19, 1706.
* She was the daughter of the Honourable Mr. Thynne, brother to the Lord Viscount
Weymouth. She married Algernon, Earl of Hertford, son of Charles Seymour, Duke of
Somerset, who succeeded to the honours and estate of his father on his demise, Dec. 2, 1748,
by which event she became Duchess of Somerset. His Grace, her husband, died Feb. 9,
1750, and she survived him only till July, 1754, leaving an only daughter, married to Sir
Hugh Smithson, Bart, who succeeded his father-in-law as Duke of Northumberland, while
Sir Edward Seymour, Bart, succeeded him as Duke of Somerset. This daughter died to-
wards the latter end of the last year. º
The Duchess of Somerset, Mrs. Rowe's intimate friend, not only lamented the death of
Mrs. Rowe, but wrote an Elegy upon her, which it seems Dr. Watts had a sight of, and up-
on which he composed the following commendatory lines:
On an Elegy written by the Right Honourable the Countess of HERTFoad, on the death of
JMrs. Rowe.
Struck with the sight of Philomela's urn,
Eusebia weeps, and calls her muse to mourn:
While from her lips the tuneful sorrows fell,
The groves confess a rising Philomel.
Mr. Grove cannot certainly say whether Mrs. Rowe's poetical name, Philomela, by which
she was early known, was assumed by herself, or was a compliment to her by her friends.-
The latter, says he, is most º and that it was given her to the publication of her po-
ems, in 1696, before which, her modesty not consenting that her own name should appear,
this was substituted in the room of it, as bearing a very easy allusion to it (that of Singer)
and happily expressing the softness and harmony of her verses, not less soothing and melo-
dious than the strains of the mightingale, when from some shady covert she fills the woods
with the rich music of her lays.
32
.250 MEMOIRs of MRs. Rowe.
II. ' **.
Now be my harp for ever dumb;
My muse, attempt no more. , 'Twas long ago
Ibid adieu to mortal things,
To Grecian tales, and wars of Rome;
'Twas long ago I broke all but th’ immortal strings.
Now those immortal strings have no employ,
Since a fair angel dwells below,
To tune the notes of heav'n, and propagate the joy.
Let all my pow'rs, with awe profound,
While Philomela sings,
Attend the rapture of the sound,
And my devotion rise on her seraphic wings.
Isaac WATTs.
THE COUNTESS OF CARBERY.
THE CountEss of CARBERY, who died in the prime of life in the
year 1650, was the lady of Richard, Earl of Carbery. The following
character is extracted from a sermon preached at her funeral by the
pious, learned, and eloquent Dr. Jeremy Taylor, and published in a
collection of his discourses in folio.
“I have now done with my text, but am yet to make you another
sermon. I have told you the necessity and the state of death ; it may
be too largely for such a sad story; I shall, therefore, now, with a better
compendium, teach you how to live, by telling you a plain narrative of
a life, which if you imitate and write after the copy, it will make, that
death shall not be an evil, but a thing to be desired, and to be reckoned
amongst the purchases and advantages of your fortune. When Martha
and Mary went to weep over the grave of their brother, Christ met them
there, and preached a funeral sermon ; discoursing of the resurrection,
and applying to the purposes of faith, and confession of Christ, and
glorification of God : we have no other, we can have no better prece-
dent to follow; and now that we are come to weep over the grave of our
dear sister, this rare personage, we cannot choose but have many virtues
to learn, many to imitate, and some to exercise.
“I choose not to declare her extraction and genealogy; it was, indeed,
fair and honourable; but, having the blessing to be descended from
worthy and honoured ancestors, and hersekf to be adopted and ingraft-
ed into a more noble family, yet, she felt such outward appendages to
be none of hers, because not of her choice, but the purchase of the vir-
tues of others, which although they did engage her to do noble things, yet,
they would upbraid all degenerate and less honourable lives than were
those which began and increased the honour of the families. Accord-
ingly, myself have been a witness of it, how this excellent lady would,
by an act of humility and Christian abstraction, strip herself of all that
fair appendage of exterior honour which decked her person and her for-
tune; and desired to be owned by nothing but what was her own, that
she might only be esteemed honourable according to that which is the
honour of a Christian and a wise person.
“She had a strict and severe education, and it was one of God’s
graces and favours to her. For, being the heiress of a great fortune, and
living amongst the throng of persons in the sight of vanities and empty
temptations, that is, in that part of the kingdom where greatness is too
often expressed in great follies and great vices, God had provided a
severe education to chastise the forwardnesses of a young spirit and a
fair fortune ; and intending to secure this soul to himself, would not
suffer the follies of the world to seize upon her by way of too near a
trial, or busy temptation. *
252 MEMOIRs of
“She was married young; in passing through which line of provi-
dence, she had the art to secure her eternal interest, by turning her
condition into duty, and expressing her duty in the greatest eminency
of a virtuous, prudent, and rare affection; which I note in her as that
which I would have exemplar to all ladies and to all women ; and al-
though this was a great enamel to the beauty of her soul, yet, it might
in some degrees be also a reward to the virtue of her lord; for she would
often discourse it to them that conversed with her, that he would im-
prove that interest which he had in her affection to the advantages of
God and of religion; and she would delight to say that he called her
to her devotions, he encouraged her good inclinations, he directed her
piety, he invited her with good books; and then she loved religion,
which she saw was not only pleasing to God, and an act or state of
duty, but pleasing to her lord, and an act also of affection and conjugal
obedience. ..
“As she was a rare wife, so she was an excellent mother; for in so
tender a constitution of spirit as hers was, and in so great a kindness
towards her children, there hath seldom been seen a stricter and more
curious care of their persons, their deportment, their nature, their dispo-
sition, their learning, and their customs; and if ever kindness and care
did contest and make parties in her, yet, her care and her severity were
ever victorious ; and she knew not how to do an ill turn to their se-
verer part, by her more tender and forward kindness.
“But if we examine how she demeaned herself towards God, there
also you will find her not of a common, but of an exemplary piety. She
was a great reader of Scripture, confining herself to great portions every
day; which she read, not to the purposes of vanity and impertinent
curiosity, not to seem knowing or to become talking, not to expound
and rule, but to teach her all her duty, to instruct her in the know-
ledge and love of God and of her neighbours, to make her more hum-
ble, and to teach her to despise the world and all its gilded vanities;
and that she might entertain passions wholly in design and order to
heaven. I have seen a female religion that wholly dwelt upon the
face and tongue; that like a wanton and undressed tree, spends all
its juice in suckers and irregular branches, in leaves and gum ; and
after all such goodly outsides, you shall never eat of the fruit, or be de-
lighted with the beauties or the perfumes of a hopeful blossom. But
the religion of this excellent lady was of another constitution ; it took
root downward in humility, and brought forth fruit upward in the
substantial graces of a Christian, in charity and justice, in chastity and
modesty, in fair friendships and sweetness of society. She had not very
much of the forms and outsides of godliness, but she was singularly
careful for the power of it, for the moral, essential, and useful parts;
such as would make her be, not seem to be, religious.
“She was a very constant person at her prayers, and spent all her
time, which nature did permit to her choice, in her devotions, and read-
ing and meditating, and the necessary offices of household government,
every one of which is an action of religion, some by nature, some by
adoption. To these also God gave her a very great love to hear the
word of God preached; in which, because I had sometimes the honour
to minister to her, I can give this certain testimony, that she was a dili-
LADY CARBERY. 253
gent, watchful, and attentive hearer; and to this had so excellent a
judgment, that if ever I saw a woman whose judgment was to be re-
vered, it was hers alone. But her appetite was not soon satisfied with
what was useful to her soul; she was also a constant reader of ser-
mons, and seldom missed to read one every day: and that she might
be full of instruction and holy principles, she had lately designed to
have a large book, in which she purposed to have a stock of religion
transcribed in such assistances as she would choose, that she might be
readily furnished and instructed to every good work. But God pre-
vented that, and hath filled her desires not out of cisterns and little
aqueducts, but hath carried her to the fountain, where ‘she drinks of
the pleasures of the river,’ and is full of God.
“She always lived a life of much innocence, free from the violences
of great sins. Her person, her breeding, her modesty, her honour, her
religion, her early marriage, the guide of her soul, and the guide of her
youth, were so many fountains of restraining grace to her, to keep her
from the dishonours of a crime. It is good to bear the yoke of the Lord
from our youth ; and though she did so, being guarded by a mighty pro-
vidence, and a great favour and grace of God, from staining her fair soul
with the spots of hell, yet, she had strange fears and early cares upon
her. But these were not only for herself, but in order to others, to her
nearest relatives. And because she knew that the sins of parents
descend upon children, she endeavoured, by justice and religion, by
charity and honour, to secure that her channel should convey nothing
but health and a fair example and a blessing.
“And though her accounts to God were made up of nothing but
small parcels, little passions, and angry words, and trifling discontents,
which are the allays of the piety of the most holy persons, yet, she was
early at her repentance ; and towards the latter end of her days grew
so fast in religion, as if she had had a revelation of her approaching end,
and therefore that she must go a great way in a little time : her dis-
courses were more full of religion, her prayers more frequent, her
charity increasing, her forgiveness more forward, her friendships more
communicative, her passions more under discipline ; and so she trim-
med her lamp, not thinking her night was so near, but that it might
shine also in the day-time, in the temple, and before the altar of incense.
“But in this course of hers there were some circumstances, and some
appendages of substances, which were highly remarkable.
“1. In all her religion, and in all her actions of relation towards God,
she had a singular evenness and untroubled passage, sliding towards
her ocean of God and of infinity with a certain and silent motion. So
have I seen a river deep and smooth passing with a still foot and a sober
face, and paying to the great exchequer of the sea, the prince of all the
watery bodies, a tribute large and full; and hard by it a little brook
skipping and making a noise upon its unequal and neighbour bottom ;
and after all its talking and bragged motion, it paid to its common audit
no more than the revenues of a little cloud or a contemptible vessel.
So have I sometimes compared the issues of her religion to the solemni-
ties and famed outsides of another's piety. It dwelt upon her spirit,
and was incorporated with the periodical work of every day. She did
not believe that religion was intended to minister to fame and reputa-
254 MEMOIRS OF
tion, but to pardon of sins, to the pleasure of God, and the salvation of
souls.
“2. The other appendage of her religion, which also was a great
ornament to all the parts of her life, was a rare modesty and humility
of spirit, a confident [resolute] despising and undervaluing of herself.
For though she had the greatest judgment, and the greatest experience
of things and persons, that I ever yet knew in a person of her youth, and
sex, and circumstances, yet, as if she knew nothing of it, she had the
meanest opinion of herself, and, like a fair taper, when she shined to all
the room, yet round about her own station she had cast a shadow and
a cloud, and she shined to every body but herself. But the perfection
of her prudence and excellent parts could not be hid, and all her hu-
mility and arts of concealment made the virtues more amiable and
illustrious. -
“I know not by what instrument it happened, but when death drew
near, before it made any show upon her body, or revealed itself by a
natural signification, it was conveyed to her spirit. She had a strange
secret persuasion, that the bringing this child into the world should be
her last scene of life; and so it was that the thought of death dwelt
long with her, and grew from the first steps of fancy and fear to a con-
sent, from thence to a strange credulity and expectation of it, and with-
out the violence of sickness, she died. And in this I cannot but adore
the providence, and admire the wisdom and infinite mercies of God;
for, having a tender and soft, a delicate and fine constitution, she was
tender to pain, and apprehensive of it, as a child’s shoulder is of a load
and burden, and in her often discourses of death, which she would re-
new willingly and frequently, she would tell that she feared not death,
but she feared the sharp pains of death. The being dead and being
freed from the troubles and dangers of this world, she hoped would be
for her advantage, and therefore that was no part of her fear; but she,
believing the pangs of death were great, and the use and aids of reason
little, feared lest they should do violence to her spirit and the decency
of her resolution. But God, that knew her fears and her jealousy con-
cerning herself, fitted her with a death so easy, so harmless, so painless,
that it did not put her patience to a severe trial. It was not (in all
appearance) of so much trouble as two fits of a common ague ; so care-
ful was God to demonstrate to all that stood in that sad attendance,
that this soul was dear to him ; and that since she had done so much
of her duty to him, he that began, would also finish her redemption, by
an act of a rare providence and a singular mercy.
“Blessed be that goodness of God, who does such careful actions of
mercy for the ease and security of his servants. But this one instance
was a great demonstration that the apprehension of death is worse than
the pains of death; and that God loves to reprove the unreasonableness
of our fears, by the mightiness and by the arts of his mercy.
“She had in her sickness, if I may so call it, or rather in the solemni-
ties and graver preparations towards death, some remarkable and well-
becoming fears concerning the final estate of her soul. But from thence
she passed into a deliquium, or a kind of trance; and as soon as she
came forth of it, as if it had been a vision, or that she had conversed
with an angel, and from his hand had received a label or scroll of the
LADY CARBERY. 255
book of life, and there seen her name enrolled, she cried out aloud,
“Glory be to God on high : now I am sure I shall be saved.” Concern-
ing which manner of discoursing, we are wholly ignorant what judgment
can be made ; but certainly, there are strange things in the other world,
and so there are in all the immediate preparation to it; and a little
glimpse of heaven, a minute’s conversing with an angel, any ray of God,
any communication extraordinary from the spirit of comfort which God
gives to his servants in strange and unknown manners, are infinitely far
from illusions; and they shall then be understood by us when we feel
them, and when our new and strange needs shall be refreshed by such
unifsual visitations.
“But I must be forced to use summaries and arts of abbreviature in
the enumerating those things in which this rare personage was dear to
God, and to all her relatives. If we consider her person, she was in the
flower of her age, of a temperate, plain, and natural diet, without curio-
sity or an intemperate palate ; she spent less time in dressing than many
servants; her recreations were little and seldom, her prayers often, her
reading much ; she was of a most noble and charitable soul; a great
lover of honourable actions, and as great a despiser of base things; espe-
cially loving to oblige others, and very unwilling to be in arrear to any
upon the stock of gourtesies and liberality; so free in all acts of favour
that she would not stay to hear herself thanked, as being unwilling that
what good went from her to a needful or an obliged person should ever
return to her again; she was an excellent friend, and singularly dear to
very many, especially to the best and most discerning persons, to all that
conversed with her and could understand her great worth and sweet-
ness; she was of an honourable, a nice, and tender reputation; and of
the pleasures of this world, which were laid before her in heaps, she took
a very small and inconsiderable share, as not loving to glut herself with
vanity, or to take her portion of good things here below. If we look on
her as a wife, she was chaste and loving, discréet and humble. If we
remember her as a mother, she was kind and severe, careful and prudent,
very tender, and not at all fond, a greater lover of her children’s souls
than of their bodies, and one that would value them more by the strict
rules of honour and proper worth, than by their relation to herself. Her
servants found her prudent and fit to govern, and yet open-handed and
apt to reward; a just exactor of their duty, and a great rewarder of their
diligence. She was in her house a comfort to her dearest lord, a guide to
her children, a rule to her servants, an example to all.
“But as she was related to God in the offices of religion, she was even
and constant, silent and devout, prudent and material [solid]; she loved
what she now enjoys, and she feared what she never felt, and God did
for her what she never did expect. Her fears went beyond all her evil;
and yet the good which she hath received, was, and is, and ever shall
be, beyond all her hopes. * .
“She lived as we all should live, and she died as I fain would die—
Etchm supremos Lachesis pervenerit annos,
Non aliter cineres mando jacere meos.”
The preceding character is drawn in so striking and comprehensive a
manner, and its peculiar beauty and excellence are pointed out with so
256 MEMOIRS OF
correct and discriminating a judgment by the pious and eloquent author,
that but little need be added, to recommend it to the imitation of the
reader; the following brief observations, however, will not be thought
wholly superfluous.
The elevated rank of the subject of the foregoing eulogy, is, first,
deserving of attention. Lady Carbery moved in that sphere of life
which is exposed to peculiar dangers and temptations from the allure-
ments of the world; and in which “greatness” (as it is admirably
observed) is in consequence, “too often expressed in great follies and
great vices.” Hence, the example of her piety and virtue shines with
a lustre proportioned to the eminence on which she was placed, and to
the difficulties with which she was surrounded. She had, indeed, the
singular advantage of “a strict and severe education;” by which we
are evidently to understand, an education conducted upon the genuine
principles of Christianity, which, under the Divine blessing, tended to
correct the false views and expectations which her situation would
naturally produce, and to set before her the good and perfect will of God,
as the rule of her sentiments and conduct, and conformity to it as the
source of all true greatness and happiness. Thus wisely brought up
“in the nurture and admonition of the Lord,” she came forth into the
world well qualified to adorn her exalted station. It is, however, greatly
to the honour of the age in which she lived, that Lady Carbery was by
no means a singular example of piety united to high rank and fortune.
Many others, of equal condition, and of either sex, grace the annals of
that period by a similar display of religious excellence. And this is a
circumstance which deserves to be particularly noticed. If in the pre-
sent day we look to the characters of the higher orders of society, we
shall find but very few who resemble that of Lady Carbery. Doubtless,
“We boast some rich ones whom the Gospel sways;
“And one who wears a coronet, and prays!”
But still, as the same truly Christian poet adds,
“Like gleanings of an olive-tree, they show
“Here and there one upon the topmost bough.”
Yet why should this be so 4 True religion is so far from being an
enemy to human greatness or prosperity, that wherever it is found in
conjunction with them, it is seen to add grace and dignity to the one,
and to lessen the dangers and increase the happiness of the other.
Should this memoir, therefore, fall into the hands of any who are thus
highly favoured by this world’s good, let them learn from the example
of Lady Carbery, that to be truly noble, they must be “born of God;”
that to possess real wealth, they must be “rich towards Him,” “rich
in faith, and heirs of a kingdom which cannot be moved.”
But there are two or three features in the religious character of this
lady, to which we would particularly direct the attention of our readers
of every description. What we have principally in view may be de-
nominated the solidity of her piety. The religion of Lady Carbery was
founded in humility before God, and was richly productive of the sub-
stantial graces and virtues of a Christian; the love of God and of her
neighbours; subdued and well-regulated affections and desires respect
LADY CARBERY. 257
ing the things of this world; and a daily preparation for the employ-
ments and pleasures of a better. Her chief care and anxiety seem to
have been directed towards the attainment and exercise of the power
of godliness. . For this she read the word of God, prayed in public and
in private, and listened to the instructions of the pulpit. Religion, in
short, appears to have been considered by her, not so much as intended
to procure her any particular character amongst men, as “to teach her
all her duty,” to make her perfect and complete in all the will of God.
As a striking proof of the truth of these observations, we request
our readers, especially the female part of them, to consider the exemplary
and amiable conduct of Lady Carbery in every domestic relation and
duty, more particularly in her conduct towards her children. This is a
part of her character which is well deserving of imitation. “Her re-
ligion,” adds her pious eulogist, “ dwelt upon her spirit, and was in-
corporated with the periodical work of every day.” This is pure and
undefiled religion. May its influence be more widely diffused through-
out the religious world; for this is good and profitable unto men, and
redounds to the glory of God! 'A
Conformably to such a life was the death of Lady Carbery; calm
and peaceful, and honoured by a remarkable token of the divine pre-
sence and favour. The account which is given of this circumstance,
is no less judicious than it is beautiful and interesting. And there is
something peculiarly satisfactory in the evidence by which it is attest-
ed. It is greatly to be feared, that the want of more frequent instances
of this kind in the present day, is owing to our low attainments
in the knowledge and love of God. Hence it is, that the promise,
amongst others of a similar nature, which is recorded John, xiv. 23,
is so seldom accomplished in life, and at the hour of death.
What has thus been added to the character of Lady Carbery, will tend
to recommend to the notice of our readers that kind of religion of which
she was so eminent an example; retired, yet substantial, elevated in its
principles, yet chiefly discernible in the moral regulation of the heart
and life, by the precepts of the gospel.
33 *
LADY LETICE, VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND.
*
WRITTEN IN A LETTER TO HER MOTHER, THE LADY MORISON, AT GREAT TEw
IN OXFORD SHIRE,
MADAM,
IT is the desire of some honourable personages, to have an exact account
of the death of your most dear daughter, the Lady Falkland: they being
privy to much piety in her life, expect (as well they may) somewhat
remarkable in her sickness and death.
For your comfort and their satisfaction, I have gathered together some
scattered particulars of her life, sickness, and death, and have sent them
unto you, that the most precious perfume of her name being poured
out, (like Mary’s box of spikenard,) may fill your and their houses.
And though this relation of so many eminent virtues in her, would not,
perhaps, have appeared so delicate from your own pen, because so deep
a share of the praise belongs to you; yet, you need not blush at the de-
livering of it; it may consist with your modesty, to be a witness of the
truth of these particulars, though not to be the publisher of them. And
if the memory of that most holy lady continue precious amongst us, and
her holy example efficacious with us, and God, who sanctified her here,
and now glorifies her in heaven, be magnified and honoured for his
mercies and graces, I have all I aim at.
I shall relate somewhat remarkable in the very beginning of her
Christian race; more, in her progress and proficiency in it; and then
come to the last stages, when the crown at the end of the race was, as
it were, within her view.
This elect lady set out early in the ways of God, in the morning of
her age: there was care taken whilst she was young, that she should
be brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. She came
not from her nurse’s arms, without some knowledge of the principles of
the Christian religion. While she was very young, her obedience to
her parents, (which she extended also to her aunt, who had some
charge over her in her farther’s house,) was very exact ; and as she
began, so she continued in this gracious and awful temper of duty.
I have heard you say, madam, that you cannot remember any one
particular, wherein, at any time, she disobeyed her father, or you.
That her time might not be misspent, nor her employments tedious
to her, the several hours of the day had variety of employments assigned
to them; and the intermixing of prayer, reading, writing, working, and
walking, brought a pleasure to each of them in their courses; so that
the day was carried about faster than she would ; and she began in this
her youth to abridge herself of her sleep, and was oftentimes at a book
in her closet when she was thought to be in bed.
You remember well, I presume, the purse her young fingers wrought
for her own alms, and how importunately she would beg your single
LADY FALKLAND. 259
money to fill it ; and as greedy she was of emptying it too. The poor
seldom went from the house, without the alms of the young daughter,
as well as of the parents.
And how constant she was then, at her private prayer, I know, by
what I have heard from the keeper of your house. When strangers
were in her own room, where she ordinarily had her retirements, he
was called to give her the key of some other chamber for that purpose:
at her hour of prayer, she would procure a new oratory, rather than
omit, or defer that duty. And how powerful with God the lifting up
of her pure hands, every where in this her innocent childhood, was,
soon appeared; for, while her holiness was in the bud, a violent attempt
was made to blast it. About the thirteenth year of her age, there
was a storm of temptation raised in her, and some arguments the
temper had suggested to drive her to despair of God’s mercy towards
her. And this I note the rather, because it is not ordinary at such
years to have attained to that growth, as to be thought fit for those
encounters. But God upheld this young twig against such a storm,
which hath torn up many a fair tree; for, after some anguish of
spirit, and patience in the combat, and earnest prayers, God’s grace was
sufficient for her. And surely it was not the strength of her hands
at this age, but the pureness of them, which prevailed for her.
After this conquest, her soul enjoyed much peace and tranquillity, and
she went on most cheerfully in holy duties; and tasted much comfort
and delight in them; and her heart was ever so full, that out of the
abundance of it she would say, “Oh what an incomparable sweetness
there is in the music of David’s harp ! Oh, what heavenly joythere is
in those psalms, and in prayers, and praises to God How amiable are
the courts of God’s house ! how welcome the days of his solemn wor-
ship !” And now, nothing could hinder her from those holy assemblies.
Every Lord’s-day constantly, forenoon and afternoon, she would be
with the earliest at them: some while, (when she wanted a convenience
of riding,) she walked cheerfully three or four miles à day, as young
and as weak as she was, to them; and at night, she accounted the joys
and the refreshments which her soul had been partaker of, a sufficient
recompense for the extreme weariness of her body. And within a short
while by reading good authors, and by frequent converse with learned
men, she improved (by God’s help) her natural talents of understanding
and reason, to a great degree of wisdom and knowledge.
And now these riches, of her piety, wisdom, quickness of wit, discre-
tion, judgment, sobriety, and gravity of behaviour, being once perceived
by Sir Lucius Cary, seemed portion enough to him : these he prized
above worldly inheritances and those other fading accessions which most
men court. And she being married to him, riches and honour, and all
other worldly prosperity, flowed in upon her; and consequently, to
proceed in holiness and godliness grew an harder task, than before it
seemed to be ; it being much more difficult when riches and honour thus
increase, not to set our hearts upon them.
Yet God enabled her by his grace for this also ; for, when possession
was given her of stately palaces, pleasantly seated, and most curiously
and fully furnished, and of revenues and royalties answerable, though
your ladyship hath heard her acknowledge God’s great goodness to-
wards her, for these temporal preferments, yet, neither you, nor any of
•º
260 f, MEMOIRS OF
her friends, could perceive her heart any whit exalted with joy for them.
They were of the Babylonians’ retinue, who, when they had seen Heze-
kiah’s riches and treasures, set their hearts upon them. (Isaiah, xxxix.)
This true Israelite reserved her affections for those riches which never
fade, and for those dwellings which are above, where the city is of pure.
gold, and the walls garnished with precious stones.
This confluence of all worldly felicities and contentments did so little
affect her, that there were some seemed displeased at it; and then she
would attribute much of it to a melancholic disease, which was upon
her. And though I deny not that some worldly delights might fall by
the hand of her melancholy, yet, doubtless, where the disease slew its
hundreds, grace slew its ten thousands.
In this condition some years passed, during which time she was most
constant at prayers and sermons, and frequently received the blessed
Sacrament; and although now and then, she felt not her wonted spiri-
tual comforts, but, instead of them, had some anguish, and bitterness of
spirit; yet, by the advice of good divines, and by her ordinary help of
prayer, she soon recovered her peace and joy. *
Thus in the several conditions of youth, and ripe years of virginity,
and marriage, and amongst contrary temptations, of adversity and pros-
perity, affliction and comfort, she continued that course of holy life
which she had begun; a great proficiency this, yet I crave leave to
reckon it all into her beginning, for this was but slow in respect of that
great agility and quick speed she attained unto, in the other part of her
spiritual race.
Her proficiency and progress I shall account from that time when her
prosperity began to abate; when her dear lord and most beloved hus-
band went from his library to the camp; from his book and pen, to his
sword and spear; and the consequence of that, an inevitable necessity,
that she must now be divorced from him, for a while, whom she loved
more than all the things of this world. This was a sad beginning; but
that total divorce which, soon after, death made between him and her,
that he should be taken away by an untimely death, and by a violent
death too, this, this was a most sore affliction to her : the same sword
which killed him, pierced her heart also. And this heavy affliction
which God sent upon her, she interpreted for a loud call from Heaven,
to a further proficiency in piety and virtue. And yet, she feared it might
be a punishment also upon her, for some sin or other, and therefore strictly
examined herself, and ransacked every corner of her heart, to find out
wherein she had provoked God to lay this great affliction on her.
And now she addressed herself to a divine of great eminency for piety
and learning; and from him she took directions for a more strict course
of life in this her widowhood, than formerly. Now quite forgetting
what was behind, she pressed forward to what was before, and, as if she
had done nothing yet, she began anew. And though the greatest part
of her Christian work was locked up close within herself, and some of
it very studiously and industriously concealed by her, (that she might
be sure no degree of vain glory should creep upon her with it,) yet,
much of it appeared by the effects, and is now forced to come abroad
before us.
Her first and grand employment was, to read and understand, and
then (to the utmost of her strength) to practise, our most blessed Sa-
LADY FALKLAND. 961
viour’s Sermon upon the Mount, in the fifth, sixth, and seventh chap-
ters of St. Matthew’s gospel; and having read over a most complete,
though compendious, Comment upon that Sermon, she set forthwith
upon the work of practising it, and began with those virtues to which
the beatitudes are annexed.
And her mercifulness was none of those virtues which she could at
all conceal from us. Much of her estate we saw given yearly to those
of her kindred, which were capable of charity from her; and some of
her near neighbours, who were very old, and not able to work, or very
young, and not fit for work, were wholly maintained by her. To other
poor children she contributed much, both for their spiritual and their
temporal well-being, by erecting a school for them, where they were
to be taught both to read and to work. Much care she took, that no
man, or woman, or child, should want employment, that their own
hands might bring them in a competent subsistence; and she accounted
that the best contrivenent of her estate, which set most poor people
on work; for if it were to their profit, she little regarded her own
detriment in it. A most eminent piece of mercifulness this, where
temporal and spiritual mercy went together, and wisdom guided both.
And for the poor at home, and for strangers at the door, she was very
charitable in feeding the hungry, in refreshing the faint and weak, and
in clothing the naked. In some extremities, you should see this lady
herself go up and down the house, and beg garments from her servants’
backs, (whom she requited soon after with new,)that the poor might
not go naked or cold from her door : so that she was not only a liberal
almoner to the poor, but also an earnest solicitor for them. And when
it was objected, that many idle and wicked people were by this course
of charity relieved at her house, her answer was : “I know not their
hearts, and in their outward carriage and speech they all appear to me
good and virtuous; and I would rather relieve five unworthy vagrants,
than that one member of Christ should go empty away.” And for har-
bouring strangers, the many inconveniences ordinarily ensuing upon it,
could not deter her from it; sometimes, for some weeks together, they
were entertained by her. And since her death, I hear of plentiful relief,
here, at London, and at Oxford, sent privately to prisons, and needy
persons, with a strict charge that it should not be known from whence it
came; she would not have her left hand know what her right hand gave.
And this her mercifulness could not be bounded within the limits of
friends; it extended itself to her enemies too. When there were many
of them taken prisoners by the king’s soldiers, and in great need, she
consulted hôw she might send relief to them; and when it was answered,
that such an act would raise jealousies in some, of her loyalty to his
majesty, she replied, “No man will suspect my loyalty because I relieve
these prisoners, but would suspect my Christianity, if he should see me
relieve a needy Turk, or a Jew; however, I had rather be so misunder-
stood, if this my secret alms should be known, than that any of mine
enemies, the worst of them, should perish for want of it.” And this
one instance and reason of hers, is ground enough to believe, she failed
not to relieve her enemies, as often as occasion required.
But, beyond all, her mercifulness towards the sick was most lauda-
ble. Her provision of antidotes against infection, and of cordials, and
several sorts of physic for such of her neighbours as should need them,
262 . MEMOIRS OF
amounted yearly to very considerable sums; and though, in distribut-
ing such medicinal provisions, her hand was very open, yet, it was
close enough in applying them: her skill, indeed, was more than ordi-
nary, and her wariness too. When any of the poor neighbours were
sick, she had a constant care, that they should neither want such relief
nor such attendance as their weak condition called for ; and, if need
were, she hired nurses to serve them; and her own frequent visiting of
the poorest cottagers, and her ready service to them on their sick bed,
argued as great humility, as mercifulness in her. Yet, the books of
spiritual exhortations she carried in her hand to these sick persons, de-
clared a further design she had therein, of promoting them towards
Heaven, by reading to them, and by administering words of holy counsel
to them. “There is no season more fit,” she would say, “for sowing
good seed, than this: while the ground of their hearts is softened, and
melting with sorrow and sickness.” And to gain this advantage, it
was that she was so frequent a visitor of the sick, going day after day
to their bed-side. This honourable lady hath been observed sitting in
a cottage, waiting the sick woman’s leisure, till the slumbers and fits
were over, that she might read again to her, and finish the work she
had begun. And of late, when she could not do this good office in her
own person, (she growing sickly and weak,) yet she would do it still
by proxy; for some of her friends or servants were deputed by her to
go to the sick, with her books too, daily; and now and then most of
her family, who were fit for such employment, were sent abroad on
this errand. Thus ordinarily, in all her works of outward mercy, she
added works of spiritual mercy too; relieving the wants of the body
and of the soul together, instructing and exhorting, and earnestly per-
suading the poor and the sick to some virtue or other, for their soul’s
health. -
For meekness, also, she was most eminent. She was second to none
of her sex and age, I believe, among us, for perspicuity of understand-
ing and clearness of judgment; yet, as far from self-conceit as from
ignorance. Her way, indeed, was, upon debates, to object till all argu-
ments she could think on to the contrary were satisfied; and when that
was once done, no cavil was heard, but her assent readily given. And
this ready submission of her judgment to the best reasons, I mention,
for the meekness of her understanding: her knowledge did not puff up,
but edify. And her understanding leading the way in meekness, her
will cheerfully followed in it: as soon as her understanding was sat-
isfied, her will bowed presently and obeyed. She seldom denied to do
what she was convinced was fit to be done. The greater difficulty was
with her affections: her natural temper, she would often complain, in-
clined her to anger; and being so well aware of it, she most diligently
observed herself, and did, in a great degree, conquer that froward incli-
nation; and that good measure of meekness, in this kind, which she
attained to, was the more commendable, because of the many great
difficulties she met with in it.
And now, after the exercise of all these virtues in this high degree,
such a poverty of spirit was apparent in her, as was most admirable;
upon all occasions bewailing her weaknessess, and lamenting her spiri.
tual wants. There were some about her who had a holy emulation to
be like her, in these and such like graces and virtues; and she hath
LADY FALKLAND. 263
now and then over-heard them wishing, that they were as forward as
she ; and her constant reply was, “Oh, ye are not so backward | Yet,
wish yourselves better; ye know not how vile and corrupt my heart
is.” So that in some respects she accounted herself the greatest of
sinners. In no respect would she esteem better of herself, than of
the least of saints; a well-wisher towards holiness, and a beginner still.
Thus she daily practised those graces and virtues to which our
Saviour annexed such special blessings; and studied to be still more
and more perfect in them, with as much diligence as the scholar doth
his lesson, and with as much success and good speed too.
And from this sermon of our blessed Saviour she learned that duty
of prayer; and her chief practice therein she could not conceal from
us neither, which was as follows: **
First, she spent some hours every day in her private devotions and
meditations; and these were called, I remember, by those of her family,
her busy hours; prayers, her business. Martha's employment was
her recreation; she had spare hours for it : Mary’s was her business.
Then her maids came into her chamber early every morning, and or-
dinarily she passed about an hour with them, in praying, and catechis-
ing, and instructing them. To these secret and private prayers, the
public morning and evening prayers of the Church, before dinner and
supper, and another form, (together with reading scriptures, and sing-
ing psalms,) before bed-time, were daily and constantly added. And
so strict was she for the observing of these several hours of prayer,
that a charge was given her servants to be frequent, if their occasions
permitted, at every one of them. However, she would not endure that
any one should be absent from them all: if she observed any such,
she presently sent for them into her chamber, and consecrated another
hour of prayer there, purposely for them. And she would pray with
those servants privately ere she went to bed, who had not prayed publicly
with her that day.
To pray, with David, seven times a day, or, with Daniel, three times,
is expected perhaps only from such persons as have leisure and oppor-
tunity: but, with Levi, to offer up morning and evening sacrifice every
day, this she required from the busiest servant in the house, that at
the outgoings of the morning and evening, every one should praise
God and call upon his name.
Neither were these holy offices confined to her menial servants:
others came freely to join with them, and her oratory was as open to
her neighbours as her hall was.
On the Lord’s day, she rose in the morning earlier than ordinarily;
yet enjoined herself so much private duty with her children and ser-
vants, examining them in the sermons and catechisings, &c. and with
her own soul, that oftentimes the day was too short for her ; and then
I have known her rise two or three hours before day on the Monday, to
supply what was left undone the day before. To dispose herself the
better for the religious keeping of the Lord’s-day, as well for other
spiritual ends, I presume it was, that she so solemnly fasted every Sa-
turday: that day she sequestered herself from company, and from
worldly employment, and came seldom out of her closet till towards
evening, and then the chaplain must double the sacrifice; prayers
she had and catechising both.
264 MEMOIRS OF
And her care to prepare herself for the receiving of the holy Sacra-
ment of our most blessed Lord's Supper, was most commendable and
most punctual. Oftentimes, scruples and fears arose in her, tending
to keep her back from that heavenly banquet; and she having, upon
examination of them, reason enough, as we thought, to conclude that
they were temptations from the devil, whom she perceived labouring
amain to deprive her of that strength and comfort which she hoped to
receive from that sacred ordinance, neglected them all, and presented
herself with an humble and trembling heart, at that blessed Sacrament.
And these fears and scruples in her occasioned this peremptory resolu-
tion from her, that she would not, by God’s help, thenceforth omit any
opportunity of communicating.
At home, her servants were all moved to accompany her to the Sa-
crament; and they who were prevailed with, gave up their names to
her two or three days before; and from thence she applied herself to
the instructing of them; and she knew well how to administer to every
one their particular portion; and several exhortations she had for seve-
ral persons whom she had power over. Yet, she trusted not in her own
instructions of them, but desired the chaplain's help also to examine
them, and to instruct them further. And her care was, so to order her
domestic affairs, that all those servants who were to receive the Sacra-
ment, should have the day before it free from their ordinary work, that
they might have better leisure for that spiritual work of preparing them-
selves for that Sacrament. And after the holy Sacrament, she called
them together again, and gave them such exhortations as were proper
for them.
Yet, while she was thus religiously and piously employed in this good
proficiency and far progress, going on from grace to grace, from virtue to
virtue, God had a further design upon her, another affliction to quicken
her yet more. Her young and most dear son, Lorenzo, whom God had
endowed with the choicest of natural abilities, and to whom her affec-
tions were most tender, by reason of those fair blossoms of piety she
perceived in him, God takes away from her. This, added to her former
troubles of the loss of her husband, of her crosses in the world, and of her
spiritual affliction, which came often upon her, made the burden most
heavy. She was bruised with afflictions before, but now, she fears being
ground to powder. Now she weeps and mourns all the day long, and
at night also waters her couch with tears; and weeping, saith, “Ah !
this immoderate sorrow must be repented of, these tears wept over
again.” And this quick sense of displeasing God, by this deep grief,
soon allayed the vehemency of it. And now she retires herself to listen
what the Lord God said unto her, in this louder call of affliction; and
she seems to think that she was not yet weaned enough from the things
of this world, and that it is expedient for her, that some of those worldly
comforts she most delighted in, should be taken away from her, that
her conversation may be yet more spiritual and heavenly; and therefore
this affliction seemed to call her to a greater mortification to the world,
and to a nearer conformity to Christ her Lord. Yet, fearing that still
her sorrow for her son was somewhat excessive, she again consulted
her chaplain, and acquainted him with the violence of those fits of sor-
row which of late had seized upon her, for the death of her son; and
he with his medicinal counsel and direction, by God’s help, cured this
LADY FALKLAND. 265
her distemper; and antidotes he prescribed too, to prevent a relapse into
this malady of excessive grief. Now she confessed that this very afflic-
tion was most fit for her, and that it would prove most beneficial to her;
and returning home with perfect cheerfulness, every one there observed
a most notable though sudden change in her. Sad Hannah’s counte-
nance and conversation not more visibly changed upon the good words
of Eli the prophet to her, concerning the Samuel she should obtain, than
hers now is, after the loss of one. And with this extraordinary cheer-
fulness, she took up a most firm resolution of a further progress in holi-
ness and piety, and addressed herself to run these latter stages of her
Christian race with greater speed than she had shewed in any of the
former. But the devil, who before envied her beginning, and her pro-
ficiency much more, is now most violent to hinder her perfection; and
therefore, upon this her renewed purpose of more exact obedience, pre-
sently assaults her with fierceness and rage, strongly tempting her to
think that she had deceived herself all this while, and that she had
mocked God with a counterfeit repentance, which was no way accepta-
ble to him. And an argument was brought to this purpose, which was
so fully suitable to the tenderness of her own spirit, that it is hard to
say whence it proceeded. And this it was: “My grief for my sins hath
not been so vehement, as that, the other day, for the death of my son;
I wept not so bitterly for them, as I did for that; and therefore, that
my repentance is not acceptable.” And in this anguish of spirit, she
hastens to her learned friend again, and begs counsel and direction from
him; and after devout prayers and holy conferences, received full com-
fort and thorough satisfaction, and returns home now as visibly lifted
up from the deep pit of anguish and disquiet of spirit, as she was the
other day, from the valley of sorrow; and with tranquillity of mind, and
joy of heart, shows to her friends, both how she sunk, and how she was
raised again. -
And now having, by the help of her God, overcome this difficulty,
with much cheerfulness of spirit she enters upon the practice of what she
had last resolved on. This opposition, though it staid her a while, yet,
set an edge upon her resolution, and she soon recovered that whetting
time. And she begins, by a most sharp mortification, to obey the call of
her last affliction.
The vanity of apparel and dress, she had cut off long before ; and after
her husband’s death, the richness of them too. What she spared in
these, she bestowed upon the poor members of Christ; and now she
begins to cut off all worldly pomp also. In her house, in her retinue,
and at her table, and otherwise, she denies herself that state which her
quality might have excused, that, like Dorcas, the widow, she might
be full of good works; and more delight she takes to see her revenues
now spent among a crowd of alms-men and women at her door, than
by a throng of servants in her house. It was a greater joy to her, that
she could maintain poor children at their books and their work, than to
have pages and gentlewomen for her attendants: these expenses, she
knew would be better allowed, in herbill of accounts at the general audit,
than those other. It was her pomp and joy to mortify all useless pomp
of state, and all delight in courtly vanities.
And now her anger too, which was crushed before, must be wholly
subdued; º: to that purpose she solicitously avoids all inquiries and
266 MEMOIRS OF
all discourse which she feared would provoke her to immoderate anger;
and when she feels it struggling to arise in her, then presently, either by
silence or by diverting to another matter, she labours to stifle it.
And while she is suppressing the sinfulness of this passion, she under-
takes also that most difficult task of taming the tongue ; and, as it is
necessary with unruly beasts, she begins roughly with it, ties it up with
a most strong resolution, and scarce suffers it to speak, lest she should
offend with her tongue. Thus, for some while, it was straitened, and
then she loosed it a little with these two cautions. .
First, that it should never speak evil of any man, though truly, but
only upon a design of charity, to reclaim him from that evil. And
because it is not ordinary to reclaim any vicious person in his absence,
therefore, her charge is peremptory to her tongue, that it never should
speak evil of any man, were he most notoriously vicious, if he were
absent, and not like to be amended by it. A strict rule this; yet,
verily, I persuade myself, that for along time before her death she most
punctually observed it.
The second caution her tongue had, was, that, as much as was possi-
ble, it should keep in every idle word, and speak out only that which
was to edification. The Thessalonians were famous for speaking to
the edification one of another; (1 Thess. v. 11.) and this Thessalonian
language our good lady studied with as much diligence and earnestness
as we ordinarily study a deep science, or a gainful mystery. And now
she is very slow to speak, as the apostle exhorts; and, where she cannot
rule the discourse to edification, she sits silent, and refrains even from
good words, though it be pain and grief to her. And of late she distin-
guished between civil and spiritual edification, and scarcely allowed
herself discourses for civil edification of her friends or neighbours in
worldly matters: spiritual edification in heavenly things was all her
aim. And her care was the same in writing as in speaking; not a vain,
not an idle word must slip from her pen. She thought not her soul
clean, if there were such a blot in her paper. In her letters, no savour,
of compliment at all; and she judged herself guilty of a trespass if she
subscribed herself, Your servant, to whom she was not really so.
And for that other temperance in diet, as well as in speech, she was
very eminent. A small quantity of meat or drink, and of sleep and
ease, sufficed her.
She was most respectful to her superiours, and most courteous and
affable towards inferiours; and very cautious lest she should give offence
to one or other, either in word or gesture; and as cautious too, lest any
of them should take offence at any speech, or look of hers, towards
them ; “for either way,” said she, “in offences given or taken, God is
offended.” And her humility in begging forgiveness from others was
most singular: of late, your ladyship knows, she seldom slept till she
had asked forgiveness, as well as blessing, from you : if she had offended
you, she thought your pardon necessary; if not, it was no cumbrance
to have supernumerary pardons from you lying by her. But to see this
honourable lady begging forgiveness from her inferiours and servants,
as she often did, if she had been angry with them, was that which put
us all to shame and astonishment.
More than once or twice of late, she brought her gift to the altar, was
in her closet upon her knees towards prayer, and there she remembered
LADY FALKLAND. 267
that her brother might possibly have somewhat against her, for such a
word, or such a look, or a neglective silence a little before; and she left
her gift at the altar, and went, and was reconciled; asked pardon, and
then came and offered. So that her chief care was still to lift up in
prayer pure hands, without wrath. If there were any wrath in her
against others, or any in others against her, she would have it allayed
before she offered her gift of prayer.
And though all these graces and virtues, by God’s help, did thus in-
crease in her, yet, a true poverty of spirit increased also in her. The
more holy, the more pious she was, the more humbly she walked with
God: in her greatest abundance, she complained most of spiritual wants.
Sure the bright lusture of her virtue gave her an advantage to espy
many corruptions in herself which she could not before ; and these she
lamented more sadly now than heretofore.
And now, in the very last stage of her Christian race, she grew so
exact, that all time seemed tedious to her, which tended not to Heaven.
She now resolved to get loose from the multitude of her worldly em-
ployments, and provided to remove from her stately mansion, to a little
house near adjoining ; and in that house and garden, with a book and
a wheel, and a maid or two, to retire herself from worldly business and
unnecessary visits, and so spend her whole time. And she took as great
delight in projecting this humiliation and privacy, as others do in being
advanced to public honours and state employments. -
But now, as she approached the end of her race, the devil brought
his strongest batteries and laboured to take this castle by storm; temp-
tations again she had, and those vehement and fierce, to suspect her
whole course of life, as so full of weakness at best, and oftentimes so
full of gross corruptions; her faith so weak, her repentance so faint, that
God would not accept of her; but her shield of faith in Christ’s merits
soon repelled these darts, and her wonted sanctuary of prayer secured
her presently from this storm of temptation. • *
And in peace and tranquillity of mind, her piety and zeal of justice
hurry her to London, in the bitterest season of this winter, to take order
for the discharge of some engagements: this she knew was her
duty; and that she herself should take that journey, was conceived
the necessary means to perform that duty, and therefore she ventures
upon it, and leaves the success to God. But alas ! madam, though
her inward strength increases, her outward strength decays, and her
weak consumptive body, by a cold there taken, grows weaker. Yet,
thence she came homeward; and at Oxford her cough and cold very
much increasing, she with most earnest prayers and holy meditations,
which a pious and learned divine suggested to her, prepared herself
for death.
After a while, they who were about her fearing the pangs of death
to be upon her, began to weep and lament; the whole company grew
sad and heavy; she only continued in her former condition, not at
all sorrowful, nor affrighted by these messengers of death. Then, the
physician coming, and, upon consideration, saying, “Here is no sign
of death, nor of much danger; by God's help she may recover again,”—
the whole company was very much comforted, and cheered, she only
in her former indifferency; no alteration at all could be perceived
in her, as if she had been the only party in the chamber unconcerned
268 MEMOIRS OF
in it. Neither fear of death could grieve nor trouble her, nor hopes
of life and health rejoice her: “I have wholly resigned up myself
to God,” said she, “ and not mine, but his will be done, whether in
life or death.” She was not afraid to live, and still endure the miseries
of this life, and ever and anon encounter with Satan too, because
she had a powerful God able to uphold her; nor yet afraid to die,
and appear at God’s judgment seat, because she had a merciful Re-
deemer, willing to save her.
They who write of perfection, account it a high degree, to have
Vitam in patientiá et mortem in voto, To be content to live, but desirous
to die : yet surely, this here, In aquilibrio ad vitam, et ad mortem, To
be wholly indifferent, and to be most equally inclined to either, to
desire nothing, to fear nothing, but wholly to resign ourselves to God,
accounting that to be the best, whatsoever it is, which he pleases to
send; this, this is to be strong in Christ. And this in our most pious
lady was a very near approach unto perfection.
It was related for a very great virtue in St. Cyprian, that JMaluit ob-
sequi praeceptis Christi, quám vel sic coronari, He had rather live and obey
God, than die and reign in glory. But this, to have no propension
at all more to one than to the other, to be wholly indifferent, to work
on still in God’s vineyard, or to be called up to Heaven, to receive
pay, this may be a greater virtue. And this perfect indifference to do
or suffer God’s will, in life or death, appearing in this servant of God,
was such an act of self-denial, which they who observed it in her,
could not but set a special character upon, most worthy to be com-
mended to your ladyship.
Thus she was brought from Oxford home. And now, being far
spent and near her end, she could speak little, yet expressed a great deal
of thankfulness to God, who had brought her safe to die in her own
house, among her dearest friends. And there she showed those friends
a rare pattern of patience in the extremity of her sickness.
But the tranquillity of mind which she had in these her last days,
was most observable; that the devil, who had so often perplexed her
with violent temptations, should now leave her to rest and ease. She
was wont to fear his most violent assaults on her death-bed, as his
practice commonly is. But now, God, it seems, had chained him up,
and enabled her by his grace to tread Satan under her feet. Not a
word of complaint, nor the least disturbance or disquiet, to be perceived
by her; which is a sufficient argument to us, who knew how open a
breast she had to reveal any thing in that kind, especially to divines,
whereof she had now store about her, of her exceeding great quietness
and peace. And this tranquillity of mind more clearly now appearing
at her death, than ordinarily in the time of her health, is a great evi-
dence to me, of God’s most tender mercy and love towards her, and of
some good assurance in her, of her salvation.
This quiet gave her leave, though now very faint and weak, to be
most vigorous, and most instant in prayers. She called for other help
very faintly, but for prayers, most heartily and often, in those few hours
she lived at home; and after the office of the morning was performed,
she gave strict charge, that every one of her family, who could be
spared from her, should go to church and pray for her. And then, in a
word of exhortation to them who stayed by her, saying, “Fear God,
LADY FALKLAND. 269
fear God,” she most sweetly spent her breath; and so most comfortably
yielded up her spirit to him who made it; and was, we doubt not,
admitted into heaven, into the number of saints of God, there to reign
in the glory of God for evermore.
Your servant in Christ Jesus,
April 15, 1647.
L.A. D Y HAL KET.
LADY HALKET, ANNA MURRAY, was born in London the 4th of Janu-
ary 1622. Her father, Mr. Robert Murray, was descended from the
Earl of Tullibardine’s family; her mother, Jane Drummond, from the
Earl of Perth’s ; two ancient and honourable families in Scotland.
Mr. Robert Murray was a gentleman so well accomplished, that King
James VI. made choice of him to be preceptor to his secend son,
afterwards King Charles I. King Charles made him provost of
Eton College; a place which he enjoyed only a short time, being
soon removed by death. gº
Mr. and Mrs. Murray had by marriage two sons and two daughters,
on whom every pains was taken, to render them qualified for the highest
places of trust in the nation, and the society of the most accomplished
persons. But, while her daughters were taught French, music, dan-
cing, and all kinds of needlework, Mrs. Murray did not, like too
many mothers, neglect matters of greater importance. Her chief care
was to instruct them in the principles and practice of religion, teaching
them to begin and end every day with prayer, and reading a portion
of Scripture in order, and duly to attend the church, backing all her
instructions with her own pious example.
Anna, the subject of this Memoir, early discovered a ready disposition
to receive instructions, and extraordinary sagacity and seriousness of
temper. When she became old enough to walk alone, and play with
other children, she did not follow the ill example she saw among some
of them, but did then show an abhorrence of evil; for which afterwards
she blessed God.
If at any time she was crossed by the woman that attended her, and
began to cry, if the Bible was given her to read, she became instantly
quiet. This she calls an early presage of the comfort and repose which
her soul found in her after-troubles by meditating on the blessed word.
If her mother went abroad, where she was desirous to go with her,
she never cried when not allowed to go, but quietly contented herself,
by considering, that if she had been permitted, she might have said
or done something or other, for which she might be chid at her return ;
thinking with herself, that if she wanted the pleasure she desired, she
was free also of the trouble she feared. She so used herself to this
way of pondering things, that what she most earnestly desired became
indifferent to her; and she observed, that she more readily obtained her
desire in any thing about which she was thus indifferent, than in what
she was most eager upon. She was most exact in her obedience to her
mother, so that she could not remember that she had made one visit
to the nearest neighbour, or gone any where abroad, without her
allowance.
She afterwards, reflecting on such like passages of her childhood,
says, “By these I find how early thou, O Lord! didst prevent me by
b
*,
LADY HALKET. 271
sowing the seeds of grace in my heart; though, alas ! it hath since
been overgrown by the corruption of my nature: O my God, weed it
up, that the seed thou hast sown may fructify and increase, to bring
glory to thee, and joy to myself, and profit to others.”
Nor was feebleness of frame the occasion of such a sedate and seri-
ous turn ; for the God of providence had endued her with a comely,
well-proportioned, healthful, and sprightly body ; a solid, quick, and
penetrating judgment; an ingenious and lively fancy; a faithful and
tenacious memory; lively and regular affections: which good temper-
ature of body and mind made her capable of the most excellent im-
provements; and neither her own care and diligence, nor the divine
grace, which always assists human industry, were wanting to her at-
taining them.
She began the second period of her life, her youth, with a personal
dedication of herself to God, renewing and confirming her baptismal
vows. This she frequently reiterated, but more solemnly every year, on
her birth-day, performing it usually in this manner : 1. By a diligent
review of her former life. 2. A penitent confession of her sins. 3. A
thankful acknowledgment of received mercies. 4. Sincere purposes and
resolutions of living more exactly. And finally, earnestly imploring the
divine mercy and grace. As the devoted servant of God, she applied her-
self to know his will: the reading of the Scriptures had been her enjoined
task in her childhood, but now it became her choice and delight. She
went completely through these sacred oracles once every year, in the
regular course of reading them, besides her frequent occasional converse
with them. Not contenting herself with the letter, she endeavoured, by
frequent and serious meditation, to find and feel the spirit and life, the
transforming and renewing virtue of that quickening word. In this
exercise, she seems to have been a great proficient, her meditations
(whereof she left many volumes) being full of elevated thoughts, and
lively spiritual affections.
From the example of a devout lady, she began, when young, to ob-
serve stated days of fasting ; and as she became better acquainted with
this duty, she found it a great help to prayer and humiliation, and felt
by it much inward refreshment.
She usually did partake of the Lord's Supper four times in the year;
on which occasions especially, she was very exact in taking a more
particular review of her life, endeavouring by serious repentance to have
her past sins cancelled, and by new bonds and resolutions to have her
soul fortified against after-temptations. But this great and useful duty
of self-examining was not reserved only for these solemn occasions; she
very wisely kept short accounts, by frequent casting them up ; and it
was of great advantage to her in this performance, that from her younger
years she had kept a register of the most remarkable occurrences of her
life, especially her failings, mercies, and resolutions. She was also
careful to make observations of the various and most remarkable
dispensations of Providence to herself or others; of the customs and
conduct of the world, and of the temptations and trials incident to
every state of life; and from these she drew such just inferences, formed
such wise resolutions, and imprinted on herself such excellent maxims
and rules, as served very much to fortify her mind, and direct her conduct
through the various accidents of her life, both prosperous and adverse.
272 MEMOIRS OF
Her charitable disposition made her from her younger years apply
herself to the study of physic, and to prepare such medicines and drugs
as might be helpful in common and ordinary diseases, and proper for
hurts, bruises, and sores. In this she became very famous and helpful
to many, both poor and rich, though it was chiefly with respect to the
poor that she undertook that practice.
And now what can be expected, but that such rare accomplishments
of body and mind should attract the eyes and hearts of all, to love and
honour her ? And, indeed, the world was so just as to observe and highly
commend her virtue; and as yet calumny and malice had not the con-
fidence to throw the least blot upon the good character which she univer-
sally obtained. But how little reason is there to glory in the brightest
accomplishments, or to become vain of the most renowned fame, or
secure in the confidence of the greatest virtues 1 Eminent virtues are
ordinarily designed for eminent trials; and the best fortified minds have
enough to do with all their forces, when assaulted with the vanities and
allurements, or with the difficulties and misfortunes, and the various trials
and temptations, which surround them in this state of probation. This
excellent lady had scarce well appeared on the stage of the world, in
a public place and critical age, when she found exercise enough for her
virtue, and almost all sorts of trials, to prove the constancy of her mind;
being tossed, as it were, between waves, and pursued with a constant
series of difficulties and encumbrances for the space of fourteen years,
both in England and Holland, till at length, though once shipwrecked
and bereaved of all comforts, (except her virtue and integrity,) she
arrived at some settled state.
There were several proposals of marriage made, which came all to
no effect : in those she met either with levity and inconstancy, or with
disagreeableness of temper, or else with opposition of parents. The
former gave her no disquiet, for whoever were unworthy of her love,
were also unworthy of her concern ; but the last gave her some
trouble, for, as she was unalterably resolved never to marry any with-
out consent of parents, counting it the highest act of ingratitude and
disobedience in children, so, she could not submit to have a husband
imposed upon her, judging that union very uncomfortable, and inse-
cure which was not knit by free, unforced, and real affection. This
occasioned to her for some time the displeasure of her mother, which
was very uneasy to her; but, by her patience and dutiful behaviour,
proved at length a mean to increase and confirm her interest in her
mother's affection; who dying, left her 2000l. on a bond of the Earl
of Kinnoull, as a mark of her tender regard, and in return for all
the attention to her in sickness, and administering to her bodily and
spiritual necessities.
After her mother’s death, considering that now she wanted an eye
which used to be watchful over her, she resolved to walk more cir-
cumspectly ; and not trusting her own resolutions, she very devoutly,
in the language of a child and an heir of heaven, gave up herself to
the conduct and guidance of God, in a style which breathed a spirit.
of acquiescence in Divine Providence : “Blessed God, as thou hast
hitherto directed me, be thou still, I humbly pray thee, a guide to my
youth ; and though there be none now on earth to whom I can ad-
dress myself with that confidence as I did formerly to my mother,
LADY HALKET. 273
yet, thou art pleased to give me leave to call thee Father; and to thy
throne of grace will I direct my supplications. Hear me, I beseech
thee, and grant my requests : be pleased to give me the will and power
to love and fear thee as I ought : give me modesty and temperance in
all my words and actions, that wherever I live, or whatever I do, I
may not give occasion to others to judge uncharitably, or bring a re-
proach upon myself: that I may, as much as possible, live peaceably
with all, without quarrel or dissension : that if it be thy pleasure to
continue me in this single life, I may so live as that I may be a good
example to others; but if thou pleasest to have me change my con-
dition, then I beseech thee direct me to such a husband as may improve
my faith, my love, and fear of thee. I desire nothing in this particu-
lar but the fulfilling of thy will, and that I may show myself obedient
to thy law, which thou hast commanded. Many are the troubles of
thy servants, but thou deliverest them out of them all ; therefore on
thee will I put my assurance. O leave me not to myself, but what-
soever ill I see in others, give me grace to avoid, and what I see good,
to imitate ; so shall I walk uprightly all my days, and when death
comes, shall sleep securely in the grave.” She had also this pious
ejaculation : My God, thou hast from all eternity decreed the event
of all things, and nothing can change or resist thy will ; direct me in
that way which is most pleasing unto thee, and let it ever be so to me.
Give me, I beseech thee, patience, temperance, and discretion, which
may prove fences to a virtuous and godly life.”
Miss Anna Murray was invited by her eldest brother and his lady
to live with them, where she staid about a year; and from that
time she begins the date of her greatest afflictions: for, though she
had many serious reflections on what she might suffer, if not cir-
cumspect, and had thereupon formed resolutions to avoid all con-
verse that might be prejudicial to her in any respect, yet, she found
at last the unsteadfastness of her own resolutions, and what snares
may be in that way wherein none are feared.
After a great variety of personal and relative trials, Miss Murray
received the addresses of Sir James Halket, who came to London
with a design to accomplish his marriage. But first she set a day
apart, solemnly, by fasting and prayer, to beg God’s direction in an
affair of so great importance, performing this devotion with an entire
resignation of herself to God, and a firm resolution to be content,
however it pleased him to dispose of her; begging, that he would
make her ways plain, and her paths righteous, in his sight. After
this, with a more free and cheerful mind, she followed the conduct
of Divine Providence; and upon the Lord’s-day, March 2, 1656, she
was married to Sir James, in her brother Newton’s closet, by Mr. Gaile,
chaplain to the Countess of Devonshire, whom they had brought from
London to Charlton for that end. After a few days, they set out
for Scotland.
There could be none happier than she was in a wise and affec-
tionate husband; for whom, the longer she knew him, she had the
greater reason to bless God: and what he had proposed to himself,
he found, and enjoyed greater satisfaction and content in her virtue
and piety than all worldly advantages could have afforded. There
was an entire union of heart, and harmony of temper, and a tender
974 MEMOIRS OF
sympathy, a prudent and affectionate bearing with and correcting
of one another's infirmities. If he was at any time out of humour,
or inclined to melancholy by any cross accident, she had an excellent
dexterity to dispel the cloud and cheer him up; and if warmth of
temper (which was her greatest foible) didat any time transport her to
do any thing unbecoming her duty towards him, he by meekness
of wisdom gently allayed it. That which was the firm bond of their
concord and mutual comfort, was a sincere, religious disposition, which
they cherished and increased in one another.
Before the birth of her first child, being apprehensive that she might
die in child-bed, she wrote that which she calls, “The Mother’s Will
to the Unborn Child;” containing excellent instructions. She solemn-
ly devoted to God every child at its birth ; and after her recovery, her
first work was to record the mercy of God, with thankful acknowledg-
ments; on which occasion we have very proper meditations, upon
Psalm lwi. 12, 13, and on Psalm xxxiv. 1, 2, 3, 4.
Though her married state was the only period of her life in which
she enjoyed some worldly comforts, yet, she found it intermixed with
many troubles, which kept her virtues in constant exercise, and pre-
served her soul from being corrupted with earthly delights. Through
the whole course of her life, she found Solomon’s observation veri-
fied, Eccl. vii. 14, that God sets prosperity and adversity the one over
against the other. And in innumerable instances, she observes,
that she never received any comfort or blessing without some ingre-
dient of trouble, either with it, or soon after it, to keep her humble ;
nor any cross dispensation which was not accompanied with some
alleviating circumstances to support her.
The death of all her children save one, and of her mephew Mr.
Newton, a very hopeful youth, the only son of Sir Henry and her
sister, who died at Nottingham in their return from expressing their
kindness to her, were sad strokes, besides many other afflictions, and
great trials of her patience and submission. Her devout temper was
discovered in the pious and pertinent meditations and reflections which
she penned on these sad occasions.
But the saddest and heaviest of all shortly followed; for Sir James
fell into a languishing distemper, from which, though the physicians
apprehended no danger, yet he did not expect to recover; and having
some time before ordered his affairs, securing his lady in her jointure,
and her son Robert in a considerable patrimony, he applied himself
wholly to prepare for death, which he encountered with great com-
posure of mind and Christian courage. Upon the 24th of September,
1670, he gently breathed out his soul to God who gave it; his two
eldest sons being then in France. His character as a Christian, a
gentleman, and the chief of that name in Scotland, were such as to
secure the esteem of all who knew him.
His sorrowful lady had performed all the offices of a dutiful wife, in
her constant care and attendance; he being ever best pleased with
what she did unto him; and though she was of a tender and weak con-
stitution, she was wonderfully assisted to endure the greatest fatigue.
The first time she went to bed after her husband’s death, she awaken-
ed out of sleep with these words in her mouth, “A widow indeed!”
which made such an impression upon her, that she could not be satisfied
LADY HALKET. 275
till she had found the place where they are written, (1 Tim. v. 3, 5.)
She fixed her thoughts on the characters there given of a widow indeed,
resolving to make them her example. Finding that one among them
is, to wash the saints’ feet, and seeing neither the climate nor custom
of the country required the literal performance of that duty, she resolved
to obey it, by being ready and willing to do the meanest offices that
may be in any way helpful to such; and seeing that the best, through
infirmity and the corruption of the world, are subject to Sullyings, she
would wipe them off as much as she could.
She applied herself to look over the promises which are made to the
widow and fatherless, that they might be her support; as also to search
what were the peculiar duties required of one in her circumstances, as a
Christian, as a widow, and as a mother. As a Christian, she resolved
to learn that first lesson, to be meek and lowly in heart, and set always
before her for her study and practice, that comprehensive rule of Chris-
tianity, Phil. iv. 8. . As a mother, she pitched on the example of Lois and
Eunice, 2 Tim. i. 5, and Chron. iii. 14, and from Prov. xii. 6, 9, 15, &c.
She found her work chiefly lay in instruction, correction, and example.
As a widow, she fixed on that fore-mentioned passage, 1 Tim. v. 2,
5, 10, for her rule, and chose Anna for her example ; of whom it is
recorded, Luke, xi. 26, 27, “That she departed not from the temple,
but served God with fasting and prayers night and day.” She consi-
dered with herself, that God was pleased in a peculiar manner to show
his regard and compassion to the sad and solitary condition of widows,
making it a principal part of pure religion to visit the fatherless and
widows in their affliction: she thought, therefore, that in gratitude they
ought to be singular in their devotion to God, and in zeal for his honour
and glory. ~siº
She had marked from De Sales, in his instructions to widows,
“That to love the husband, being alive, is ordinary among women,
but to love him so well after his death as to hear of no other, is a
love that appertaineth to true widows; that the virtues proper to holy
widows are, perfect modesty, renouncing all honours and precedency
in meetings, titles, and all sorts of vanities; serving the poor and sick,
comforting the afflicted, instructing young maids in devotion, and
making themselves a pattern of all virtue to young women ; that clean-
liness and plainness should be the ornaments of their apparel, humility
and charity the two ornaments of their actions, sincerity and mildness
the two ornaments of their eyes, and Jesus Christ crucified the only
love of their hearts.” Since God was pleased to bring her to the state
of widowhood, she firmly resolved to continue in it all her life, and
earnestly begged grace and assistance from God to confirm her in this
resolution.
She set apart every Saturday (being the day of her husband's death)
for a day of retirement and devotion, and to be employed in examining
and reviewing the past week, in acts of charity and mercy, and parti-
cularly in preparing herself for death. She solemnly engaged herself
in these following resolutions: That, with God’s assistance, she would
spend the remainder of her days as much as she could like a widow
indeed: That she would be a careful and affectionate mother to her
child, and ever respectful to all the relations of her dear husband: That,
if the Lord would bless her, so as peaceably to enjoy what was left her
276 MEMOIRS OF
by her husband, or if ever she recovered her patrimony, she would thus
dispose of it; the tenth of all should be laid by for charitable uses, and
the other nine parts should be (as proportionably as she could) divided
for necessary uses, paying her debts, and increasing her son’s patri-
mony. And for advancing her son in all virtue and goodness, she
applied herself to draw up instructions which might be of use to him,
not only in his younger years, but for the right conduct of his whole
life.
Her son having ended his course at the University, returned safely,
with a good testimony from his regent, for which she thankfully ac-
knowledged God’s mercy. And being informed that the church of St.
Leonard wanted a communion-cup, she caused one to be made of very
good workmanship, weighing 31 ounces 14 drachms, and it was sent
to Dr. Skeene, then provost of the Old College, who had been her
son’s regent.
She was very much concerned that her son might not pass his time
unprofitably. She sent him for some time to Edinburgh to be ac-
quainted with the forms of law, and then to Leyden to study the law.
But being there seized with an ague, he was obliged to return; and in
a short time she found his mind wholly alienated from study, and in-
clined to the military profession ; and finding that nothing would divert
him from it, she was at length forced to yield, and allow him to follow
his genius. He soon received a captain’s commission in D.’s regiment.
She parted with him, recommending him to the divine grace and pro-
tection, enjoining him, with all earnest affection, to remember the in-
structions she had given him, and to live answerably to them ; that
he would guard against the Snares and temptations which that course
of life exposed him to ; of which she was much more apprehensive
than of any bodily dangers he might incur. She knew there had been,
and still were, some devout soldiers, and wished he might make them
his patterns.
In the year 1683, her difficulties were so pressing, that she resolved
to break up her house, and retire to England, where she proposed to
live upon what hitherto she had practised in charity; hoping, through
God’s blessing, to make as much at rich folks’ hands, as might not
only be subsistence to herself, but also enable her in some measure to
continue her charitably serving the poor, and in the mean time let her
jointure go to pay off debts. In the multitude of these her thoughts,
she made frequent and fervent application to God for counsel and
direction, and his comforts did delight her soul. She was as much
revived by that passage, Psalm xxxvii. 3, “Trust in the Lord and do
good, so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed;”
as if, by an audible voice, it had been particularly directed to her from
heaven. She believed, and found an accomplishment; for it pleased
God to open her a way she never dreamed of, by which she was in a
short time much eased of her encumbrances ; which was, that many
persons of quality, and others, sent their children to her care, partly
from respect to her, and partly for the conveniency of their education
at school, so that in a short time her family increased : upon which
she reflects on that of Psalm lxviii. 6, “God setteth the solitary in
families.” About eighteen months before, she was thinking of breaking
up her family; and now it was increased with the heirs and children
LADY HALKET. 277
of eight several families, all of them motherless, save one, who was
fatherless. She knew it was one part of a widow’s office to bring up
children ; and she earnestly prays to be assisted in a motherly care of
them, and in using all proper methods to excite in them holy desires
to become the children of God, and to behave as such in all their
words and actions.
About the middle of March, 1699, she became feverish and much
troubled with rheum, which she presently took to be the harbinger of
death, and daily found its approaches in the decay of her strength and
vital spirits. But while the outward man perished, the inward man
was renewed day by day, the God of hope filling her with all joy and
peace in believing; for she knew in whom she believed, and was per-
suaded that he was able to keep that which she had committed to him
against that day.
Some days before her death, she felt most sharp and piercing pains,
such as she then thought were more violent than any she had felt in
her whole life, under which she showed admirable patience and sub-
mission. After these had vanquished all the remaining forces of nature,
and had brought her so low, that oftentimes life was scarce discernible
in her, she little more conversed with any but God, and was seldom
heard but in her pious ejaculations, which were frequently vented with
all the effort that her weak state was capable of. She was duly attend-
ed by the Lady Pitfirren and her daughters; and on Saturday, the 22d
of April, 1699, between seven and eight o’clock at night, she finished
her warfare, and entered into the joy of her Lord. The day which for
twenty-nine years preceding she had set apart for abstinence, medita-
tion, and preparations for death, on which she wished, if it might so
please God, to die, and about the same time on which she used on these
days to take refreshments to her body, her soul was called to the hea-
venly supper, and began its everlasting Sabbath of rest. Her body
was, on the 24th, honourably convoyed and laid in the same grave in
which her husband Sir James had been laid.
She was a person of great knowledge, having searched for it as for hid
treasure, especially in those inexhaustible mines of the divine oracles,
where the most excellent knowledge is found. She was so well ac-
quainted with these sacred books, by long and frequent converse, that
she was able readily to urge any point of faith or duty of Christian prac-
tice from the most pertinent passages. She had digested all her know-
ledge into a solid principle of true wisdom, for regulating her own life
and edifying others.
Her piety had nothing of moroseness or affectation, but was free
and ingenuous, as if natural, full of sweetness and gentleness, which
made it amiable and impressive. Her gravity and seriousness had a
E. and air so taking and agreeable, as begot both reverence and
ove. Her frowns and severest reproofs were mixed with tenderness,
good-will, and kindness. Though passion was her predominant infir-
mity, she had so far overcome it, that it seldom did transport her: if
at any time it did, she severely censured herself. Whenever her pas-
sion began to arise, she usually stopped the eruption of it, by reflecting
on the parable of the ten thousand talents and hundred pence. She
considered also that the best have their failings, and the worst may
have some good things in them.
278 MEMOIRS OF
She much delighted in God’s house, and the public worship, and
was a conscientious observer of the Lord’s-day ; and had made this
remark, that according to her frame and temper that day, such was
her disposition the week following.
She was careful that all her family served the Lord ; and when she
wanted a chaplain, performed the offices of evening and morning wor-
ship herself, enjoining them private devotion ; and to such as needed,
she composed forms of prayer for their use.
She was very moderate in her sentiments about disputable points,
sadly regretting the divisions and animosities occasioned among Chris-
tians by them. Though she heartily approved the doctrine and worship
of the Church of England, in which she blessed God that she had been
initiated and educated, yet she complied with the customs and forms of
the Church of Scotland, the country where God had cast her lot, find-
ing the essentials of religion the same in both.
She divided the twenty-four hours into three parts, allotting five for
devotion, ten for necessary refreshment, nine for business. Her hours
of devotion were from five to seven in the morning, from one in the
afternoon to two, from six to seven in the evening, and from nine to ten.
. This order she carefully observed; and if at any time she was diverted
from observing the hours of devotion, she made it up from the other
divisions. Yet, she did not confine her devotion to these stated hours,
but all the day long, however employed, she endeavoured to keep up a
spiritual frame ; and in the night-time when she did awake, she was
still with God, and had then her meditations, her songs, and prayers.
She was ever employed either in doing or reaping good. In the
summer season, she vied with the bee or ant in gathering herbs, flowers,
worms, snails, &c. for the still or limbeck, for the mortar or boiling-pan,
&c.; and was ordinarily then in a dress fitted for her still-house, mak-
ing preparations of extracted waters, spirits, ointments, conserves, salves,
powders, &c. which she ministered every Wednesday to a multitude
of poor infirm persons, besides what she daily sent abroad to persons of
all ranks, who consulted her in their maladies.
She was swift to hear, slow to speak; and when she spoke, it was
with grace, ever projecting to make others better by her converse, yet,
managing it in such an humble manner, as if she designed rather to
receive than to give instruction. She had a singular dexterity to divert
and shuffle out unprofitable tattling, and introduce serious discourse;
which if she could not effect, she would then pleasantly converse with
God and her own soul, in the midst of company, without discovering
herself, or disturbing them.
She was equally eminent both for the contemplative, active, or
practical part of Christianity : contemplation had so spiritualized her
mind, that almost every object suggested pious thoughts to her. For
instance; one very stormy day, sitting alone in an arbour, at Charleton,
where the trees round about her cracked with the violence of the roar-
ing wind, though she heard the noise and saw the effects of the storm,
yet she enjoyed as serene a calm as if no storm had been in the air :
upon which she reflected on the great peace and tranquillity of a good
conscience, and the safety and security of being under the shadow of
the Almighty: Psalm xlvi. 1, and xci. 1.
Observing a sheep feeding pleasantly among thorns, at a distance
LADY HALIKET. 279
from the flock, she thought it an emblem of her own state; a stranger
in a strange land, far from her nearest relatives, encompassed with dif-
ficulties, yet through the mercy of God finding a pleasant pasture, and
enjoying a cheerful and undisturbed mind.
Observing the long twigs of honey-suckle look withered-like, and
yet at the top flourish with leaves and flowers, it raised her thoughts
to admire the grace of God, which can put life in a withered stock,
and make it flourish.
Beating sugar, her reflection was, How happy I, if the many strokes
I have met with did refine me, subdue every gross part, and make
me wholly fit for my master’s use !
Looking on a map, which she used as a screen, and observing
many cross lines; if, thought she, the geographer had such skill to
make all those cross lines concur to discover the usefulness of his art
for the help and direction of navigators, how much more can the
great Maker of the universe order all the most cross dispensations to
be useful for our direction in our Christian journey ! &c.
Observing the bees sucking and working upon the flowers which
grew at her husband’s grave, her thoughts suggested to her, in imita-
tion of them, to draw instruction from that monument of mortality.
Looking on her own picture drawn at large, with her sister, as two
shepherdesses, the posture in which she found herself drawn, leaning
on a rock, and carelessly stretching forth her hand to a stream of
water, which, gushing out of a grot, fell on her hand, and immediately
fell off; this represented to her the hieroglyphic of her life. She
had found earthly comforts unstable as water, and therefore not much
to be regarded, but to be let come and go without concern; and her
only support under all the varieties of troubles and disengagements,
had been, her leaning on that Rock of ages, whence she had sucked
honey and oil to sweeten all cross dispensations. She added, The
Lord liveth, and blessed be my rock, and exalted be the God of the
rock of my salvation l’” 2 Sam. xxii. 47.
MR. S. CATHER IN E C L A R KE,
wiFE of THE REv. SAMUEL CLARKE.
CATHERINE Overton was born at Bedworth, in the county of War-
wick, four miles from Coventry, February 25, 1602, of religious pa-
rents. Her father was Mr. Valentine Overton, Rector of Bedworth,
where he lived a constant and diligent preacher of God’s holy word
till he was almost 82 years of age. Her mother’s maiden name was
Isaverton : she was a most excellent woman, who took the whole
burthen of family affairs, both within and without doors, from off her
husband, that he might with the more freedom attend his holy
calling.
It pleased God early to implant in her heart the seeds of grace,
which first discovered themselves when she was about fifteen years
old. The discoveries to which she was at that time led, of the cor-
ruption of her nature, made such a deep impression upon her tender
mind, that whereas she was naturally of a cheerful, sanguine con-
stitution, she now became serious and somewhat melancholy. Here-
upon Satan, that old serpent and enemy of our souls, assaulted her
with many and various temptations, whereby he sought to quench
these heavenly sparks. But, by frequent reading the sacred Scrip-
tures, diligent attending to the word preached, and secret prayer,
it pleased the all-wise God to support and strengthen her against
him and all his devices. These conflicts continued the longer,
because she had none to whom she durst unbosom herself, and make
her case known.
When she was about seventeen years old, she was sent by her
parents to Siwell, in Northamptonshire, to wait upon a young lady
who was somewhat related to her. But this kind of life was so tedious
and irksome to her, that, at the end of six months, she prevailed with
her parents to send for her home again. Hear the narrative of it in
her own words, as they were found written in her cabinet after her
decease. “When,” saith she, “I was but young, my father being
at prayers in his family, I many times found such sweetness, and
was so affected there with, that I could not but wish that my heart
might oftener be in such a frame. But childhood, and the vanities
thereof, soon cooled these heavenly sparks. But my father caused
me to write sermons, and to repeat the same ; as also to learn Mr.
Perkins's Catechism, which I often repeated to myself when I was
alone ; and therein especially I took notice of those places wherein
he had set down the signs and marks of a strong and weak faith,
being convinced in my conscience that without faith I could not be
saved, and that every faith would not serve to bring me to heaven.
“Hereupon I fell to examination of myself; and though I could
not find the marks of a strong, yet, through God’s mercy, I found the
marks of a true, though weak faith, which was some comfort and
MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 281
support to me. And that God which began this good work in me,
was pleased to quicken and stir me up to a diligent use of such
means as himself had ordained and appointed for the increase thereof,
as hearing the word preached, receiving the sacrament of the Lord’s
Supper, and use of other private duties.
“But when I was about seventeen years old, my parents sent me to
wait upon a young gentlewoman in Northamptonshire, the only
daughter of Sir W. W.; at which time, being sent so far from my near
and dear relations, and meeting with some other discouragements in
the family, through want of the means of grace which I formerly en-
joyed, I grew very melancholy. I began also to have great workings
of conscience in me ; and Satan, that deadly enemy to the health and
welfare of our souls, who like a roaring lion walks about continually,
seeking whom he may devour, took his advantagé, through my igno-
rance of his devices, to raise up fears, doubts, and terrors of conscience
in me, by reason of my manifold sins, and for walking so unworthy of
God’s mercies whilst I did enjoy them, and for being so unfruitful un-
der the means of grace, and so unable to obey God, and to keep his
commandments; and by reason hereof I had no peace nor rest in my
soul, night nor day, but was persuaded that all the threatenings con-
tained in the book of God against wicked and ungodly men did belong
unto me, and were my portion, as being one of them against whom
they were denounced ; insomuch that when I took up the Bible to
read therein, it was accompanied with much fear and trembling ; yet
being convinced that it was my duty frequently to read God’s word, I
durst not omit or neglect it.
“Thus I continued a great while, bearing the burden of grievous
temptations and inward afflictions of conscience ; yet durst I not open
the wound, nor reveal my condition to any, as thinking and judging my
condition and case to be like nobody’s else. But God, who is rich and in-
finite in mercy, and Jesus Christ, who bought his elect at so dear a rate,
would not suffer any of his to be lost; and therefore he was graciously
pleased to preserve, strengthen, and uphold me by his own power
from sinking into hell through despair, and from running out of my
wits. Thus, by reason of my continual grief and anguish of heart night
and day, I was so weakened and changed within the compass of these
six months, that when I came home my dear parents scarce knew me.”
Some years after her return, she, for the most part, continued in her
father's family, where, by a diligent and conscientious use of the
means, both public and private, she did thrive and grow in grace and in
the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, as she increased
and grew in days and years.
On February 2, 1625, (the same day on which King Charles the
First was crowned), she was, with the consent of parents on both sides,
married to Mr. S. Clarke, at that time minister at Shotwick, four
miles beyond West Chester; who looked upon this match as the
greatest outward temporal blessing that ever God bestowed upon him;
whereby he could experimentally say, “that a prudent wife is the
gift of God,” and that in the possession of her he enjoyed more mercies
than he could well enumerate. But we must descend to particulars,
and proceed to notice some of those virtues and graces wherewith
God had beautified and adorned her soul. &

36
282 MEMOIRS OF
!
,--£,
Her piety was signal and exemplary. She was a constant and
diligent attendant upon the public ministry of God’s holy word; and
when she lived where she had the opportunity of hearing lectures in
the week day, she made choice to attend upon those who were most
plain, practical, and powerful preachers; and when days of humilia-
tion or thanksgiving came, she never failed to make one among God’s
people in the celebration of them. The Lord’s-days she carefully
sanctified, both in public and in private, rising earlier upon them than
upon others, especially when she had many young children about
her, that so she might have opportunity as well for secret as for family
duties, before she was called away to the public. She was, like
David’s door-keeper, one of the first in and last out of God’s house.
Her constant posture at prayer was kneeling, thinking that she could
not be too humble before God. Her usual manner was to write ser-
mons, to prevent drowsiness and distractions, and to help memory.
Of these she hath left many volumes; and her practice was to make
good use of them, by frequent reading and meditating upon them ;
and if at any time she was cast into such places and company as were
a hinderance to her in the strict sanctification of this holy day, it
was a grief and burden to her.
There was no day that passed over her head, czcept sickness or
some other unavoidable necessity prevented, wherein she did not read
some portions of the Sacred Scriptures, both in the Old and New
Testament, and of the Psalms; and in reading, she took special notice
of such passages as most concerned herself. She was frequent and
constant in secret prayer and meditation. She also read much in
other good books, especially in the works of those eminent and excel-
lent divines, Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Reyner; and in reading of them,
she used to transcribe such passages as most warmed her heart.
She never neglected any opportunity of receiving the sacrament
of the Lord’s Supper, and before her coming to it, was very strict and
serious in the duty of self-examination; and for her furtherance therein,
at such times, she read some of those books that treated upon that
subject. The fruits of her holiness manifested themselves in the
exercise of those graces which God required of her. She was not
a nominal, but a real Christian ; a true Israelite, in whom was no
guile. Her endeavour was to yield universal, constant, cheerful, and
sincere obedience to all God’s commandments, and wherein she failed
and came short, it was her grief and burden. Her meditations upon
what she heard and read were frequent; and her heart having “indited
a good matter, her tongue was as the pen of a ready writer,” taking
opportunities to speak to the edification of those with whom she
conversed.
She filled up every relation with the exercise of such graces and
duties as were suitable thereto; knowing that where relative duties
are neglected, and not made conscience of, there also our pretended
religion is in vain. As a wife, she was singular and very exemplary
in that reverence and obedience which she yielded to her husband,
both, in words and deeds. In his absence, she would pray with her
family morning and evening: the like she would do in his presence,
in case of his sickness and inability to perform the duty himself. ... In
that case, she was also a tender and diligent nurse about him, skilful
MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 283
and careful in making him broths and what else was needful for
him. If at any time she saw him in passion, with sweet and gentle
words she would mollify and moderate it. She was often a spur,
but never a bridle to him in those things which were good. She
was always well pleased with such habitations as, in their many re-
moves, he provided for her; and with such apparel and diet as his
means, which were sometimes short, would allow. She never mur-
mured at any of those dispensations which God’s all-wise providence
carved out to them.
As a mother to her children, whereof God gave her nine, four sons
and five daughters, she was most exemplary, nursing them all her-
self. She loved them dearly without fondness; was careful to give
them nurture as well as nourishment, not sparing the rod when there
was just occasion; and as soon as they capable, she was vigilant and
diligent to season their tender years with grace and virtue, by instilling
into them the first grounds and principles of religion : and as they grew
up, she did more freely discover her tender affection to them, by instruc-
tion, advice, and good counsel, as there was occasion ; and when they
were disposed of abroad, by her gracious letters, and hearty instructions
at their meetings, she laboured to build them up in grace and godli-
ness. And God was pleased to let her see, to her great joy and com-
fort, the fruit of her prayers and pains, in keeping them from scandalous
courses, and in working grace in most of their hearts.
As a mistress, she was careful, as far as she could, to bring such as were
religious, at least seemingly so, into her family; and having occasion to
be much in their company, she would take all occasions and oppor-
tunities to manifest her love and care of their souls by frequently drop-
ping in good counsel and wholesome instructions, by catechising, in-
quiring what they remembered of the sermons they heard, reading her
notes to them, encouraging them in what was good, and with the spirit
of meekness blaming them for what was evil: and, for housewifery and
household affairs, she instructed their ignorance, commended and en-
couraged what they did well; and herself being of an active disposition,
and having her hand in most businesses, set them a pattern and gave
them an example how to order the same. She was careful so far as
possibly she could, to prevent all spoil, and to see that they did not eat
the bread of idleness.
Towards her friends, and her own and her husband’s relations, she
was courteous and amiable in her deportment, free and hearty in their
entertainment. She would have plenty without want, and compe-
tency without superfluity; and all so neatly and well ordered, that
none who came to her table, whereof some were persons of honour
and quality, but commended her cookery, and were well pleased with
their entertainment. &
In her household furniture she loved not to want, nor desired more
than was needful. It was, though not costly, yet cleanly, and she
was frequent in repairing and mending decays and what was amiss.
For her apparel, she was never willing to have that which was costly
for the matter, or showy for the manner; rather under than above
her rank. For the fashion of it, it was grave and exemplary, with-
out levity. She followed Peter’s directions which he gave to Chris-
tian women in his time, 1 Peter, iii. 3, &c. “Whose adorning, let it not
284 MEMOIRS OF
be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold,
or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart,
in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and
quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. For after
this manner, in old time, the holy women who trusted in God adorned
themselves, being in subjection unto their own husbands.”
She was very charitable to the poor wherever she lived, according to
that estate wherewith God had intrusted her. She was ready to re-
lieve such as were objects of charity with meat or drink, and to lend
them money, and to minister some physical things, whereof her closet
was never empty, according as their necessities required. She had a
very tender heart, and truly sympathized with the church and people
of God, whether at home or abroad, in all their sufferings, and rejoiced
in their prosperity.
Her humility was not inferior to her other graces. She had always
a very low esteem of herself, and was ready to prefer others before her-
self, and would not take it ill when her inferiors were set above her.
She well remembered the Apostle Peter's charge : All of you be sub-
ject one to another, and be clothed with humility. For God resisteth
the proud, and giveth grace to the humble.” And that of St. Paul,
Rom. xii. 10: “In honour preferring one another.”
Her love to God, to his ordinances, and to his children, was hearty and
without dissimulation. “She abhorred that which was evil, and clave
to that which was good.” She was of so sweet and meek a disposition,
that she never used to speak evil of any, but was ever prone to forgive
and forget wrongs.
She was very prudent in managing her household affairs to the best
advantage. She would have divers dishes of meat with little cost, yet
so dressed and ordered, as made them grateful and pleasing to all.
She was careful to see that nothing was lost or spoiled. By her wise
and frugal managing her household, though her husband had never
much coming in, yet at the year’s end he could always save something :
so that “her price to him was far above rubies. His heart trusted in
her : for she did him good, and not evil, all the days of her life,”
Prov. xxxi. 10, 11, 12.
In her younger days she was healthful, of a cheerful and active spirit,
and abhorring idleness. In her old age, though she was infirm, yet,
whilst she could stand, she would be about one kind of work or other.
She bore her weakness and afflictions with much patience and holy
submission to the will and good pleasure of God. She was so uniform
in the ’frame of her spirit, and so maintained her peace with God
through her holy and humble walking, that when death, many times
in her sickness, threatened to seize upon her, she feared it not, as
knowing that it would be gain and advantage to her. Concerning
which, hear what she herself left in writing, which was found after her
decease.
“In my younger days, my spiritual afflictions and inward troubles
continued long before I could attain to any assurance of my salvation;
but of late years it hath pleased God, of his infinite mercy and free
grace, to give me more assurance of his unchangeable love through
faith in his rich and free promises of life and salvation, through Jesus
Christ, who is precious to my soul, and who is the author and finisher
MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 285
of my faith, God blessed for evermore : to whom be praise and glory,
world without end. Amen.”
In her converse with her friends, “she opened her mouth with wis-
dom, and in her tongue was the law of kindness,” Prov. xxxi. 26, which
made her company grateful to all, and burdensome or undervalued by
none. Divers years before her death, upon catching cold, she had many
fits of sickness and weakness, and some of them were so violent as
brought her near unto death ; yet the Lord had mercy upon her hus-
band and family, in raising her up again almost beyond hope and ex-
pectation. And she was always a gainer by her afflictions, God mak-
ing good that promise to her, Rom. viii. 28, “All things shall work
together for good to them that love God, to them who are called accord-
ing to his purpose:” for, after those fits, she walked more humbly,
holily, fruitfully, and faithfully, both in her general and particular call-
ing, as one that waited daily for the appearing of her Lord and Master.
The winter before her death, she enjoyed better health than she had
done for some years before.
May 25, 1675, some friends came from London to dine with her;
and that morning, according to her usual custom in such cases, she was
careful and busy in providing for their kind entertainment. But it
pleased God, whilst they were at dinner, to strike her with a kind of
shivering, which made her look paler than ordinary; and after dinner
her distemper continued, so that she was soon confined to her chamber,
and not long after, for the most part to her bed. But herein God
showed her great mercy, and had respect to her weakness, in that
during all the time of her languishing she was free from sickness and
all].
As to the state of her soul, during all the time of her sickness, she
enjoyed constant peace and serenity, and had, through God’s mercy,
much joy and peace by believing; Satan, that roaring lion, who uses to
be most strong when we are most weak, being so chained up by God
that he had no power to molest her. She often cried out, “Hold out,
faith and patience.” She told her nearest relation, when she saw him
mourning over her, that she was going to be joined to a better
husband.
Her youngest son taking his leave of her the day before her death,
she gave him much heavenly counsel for the good of his soul, and
blessed him, and all his, as she did the rest of her children and grand-
children. She earnestly desired to be dissolved, and breathed after a
fuller enjoyment of Jesus Christ, which she accounted best of all.
She would sometimes say, “ that it was a hard thing to die; and,
“this is a hard work.” Her understanding, memory, and speech, conti-
nued till within two minutes of death; and a little before, her daugh-
ter speaking to her of Jesus Christ, she replied, “My God and my
Lord ;” and so, June 21, 1675, about five o’clock in the morning, she
fell asleep, exchanging this life for a better, without any alteration in
her countenance, but only that her colour was gone. She closed u
her eyes herself, as who should say, “It is but winking, and I shall be
in heaven.” She “changed her place, but not her company.” She was
seventy-three years and about four months of age, and had been
married almost fifty years.
After Mrs. Clarke’s decease, there was found in her cabinet a paper
286 MEMOIRS OF
which, by frequent using, was almost worn out. It contained a collec-
tion of these several texts of Scripture, which she had recourse to in
times of temptation or desertion.
“Who is among you that feareth the Lord; that obeyeth the voice
of his servant; that walketh in darkness and hath no light: let him
trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God,” Isa. l. 10.
“For the name of the Lord is a strong tower : the righteous run
unto it, and are safe,” Prov. xviii. 10. “Thou wilt keep him in perfect
peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee,”
Isa. xxvi. 3.
“Blessed is the man that maketh the Lord his trust,” Psal. xl. 4.
“Blessed is the man to whom the Lord imputeth not sin,” Psal.
xxxii. 2.
“Though our hearts may fail us, and our flesh may fail us, yet God
will never fail us,” Psal. lxxiii. 26. “For he hath said, I will never
leave thee nor forsake thee,” Heb. xiii. 5.
And again, “I will be a father unto you, and ye shall be my sons
and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty,” 2 Cor. vi. 18.
“I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own
sake, and will not remember thy sins,” Isa. xliv. 25. t
“My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in
weakness,” 2 Cor. xii. 9.
“By grace you are saved through faith, and that not of your-
selves,” Eph. ii. 8.
. . “I give unto them eternal life, and they shall not perish, neither
shall any man pluck them out of my hand,” John, x. 28.
“Who are kept by the power of God, through faith unto sal-
vation,” 1 Peter, i. 5. ,”
“The foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal : the Lord
knoweth who are his,” 2 Tim. ii. 19. • -
“There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in
Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the spirit,” Rom.
viii. 1. - r
“Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that be-
lieveth,” Rom. iv. 10. !
“It is God that justifieth : who is he that condemneth P’ Rom.
viii. 33, 34.
“The promise is to you, and to your children, and to all that are
afar off; even as many as the Lord our God shall call,” Acts, ii. 39.
... “The gifts and calling of God are without repentance,” Rom. xi.
29. -
... These texts of Scripture having been as so many cordials to her in
times of temptation, it is hoped that they may prove so to others, and
therefore for their sakes they are here set down. And hereby it ap-
pears that she was not without some shakings; but, through God’s
mercy, they were such as made her strike root the faster; and by her
prudent and seasonable holding forth the shield of faith, and the sword
of the spirit, she became more than a conqueror through Him that had
loved her. …
In a little book, which was found after her death, she gives this ac-
count of herself, and of God’s gracious dealing with her. r
“From the beginning of God’s showing me mercy in my conversion,
MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 287
I here set down God’s gracious dealings with me, not for mine own
praise, but for the glory of God, and to stir up my heart to true thank-
fulness for such invaluable mercies.” After setting down the time,
manner, and means of her conversion, she thus proceeds:
“What have been my experiences of God’s gracious dealings with
me at several times, under afflictions. As when personal afflictions
have lain upon me, in regard of bodily sickness or spiritual distempers.
Or, family afflictions, when God hath taken away my dear children.
Or, when I have been under fears that God would take away my dear
husband, by some dangerous sickness which he lay under. Or, when
I have been under great fears in the time of our civil wars. Or when
I have been under spiritual desertion, by God’s hiding his face and
favour from me. Or, by reason of weakness and wants in grace.
Or, by reason of strong and prevailing corruptions. Or, by reason of
Satan’s temptations.”
The memorial records God’s gracious dispensations towards her, un-
der these various circumstances. Some extracts are subjoined.
“It pleased God for many years to keep me for the most part in a
sad and disconsolate estate and condition, not clearly evidencing the
certain assurance of his love to my soul: so that many times I question-
ed whether I was a child of God or not ; whether I had part in Jesus
Christ or not: whether I should ever attain to life and salvation or no:
and this made me walk with a drooping and disconsolate spirit, so that
I could take no true comfort in any thing. But though ‘heaviness
endured for a night, yet joy came in the morning,’ when the Lord
caused the light of his countenance to shine upon me, which was better
than life.
“It pleased God, upon the death of my youngest child, that it lay
very heavy upon my spirit, insomuch that I was brought oft upon my
knees to beg support from God, and to crave his grace and assistance,
that I might not break out to speak or act any thing whereby God’s
name might be dishonoured, or the gospel discredited; and that he
would be pleased to make up this outward loss with some more durable
and spiritual comforts. And I found a seasonable, gracious, and speedy
answer to these my requests: for, though I lay long under the burden
of that loss, yet in this time did the Lord sweetly manifest his special
love to my soul, assuring me that he was my gracious and reconciled
Father in Christ, whereby my love to him was much increased, and
even inflamed; so that by his grace, it wrought in me more diligence
and carefulness to maintain and preserve these evidences of his love, and
to yield a holy submission unto his will, as well in suffering as
in doing; as also by avoiding whatsoever might provoke him to with-
draw the evidences of his love from me, without the sense whereof
I could take little or no comfort in any thing. I
“And furthermore I bless God for it, and speak it to the praise and
glory of his rich and free grace, my prayers and earnest desires have
been answered by God’s giving me comfortable assurance, both from
the testimony of his holy word and the witness of his blessed Spirit,
of my eternal and everlasting salvation, in and by Jesus Christ. " Yet
have I not been without fears and doubtings many times, through want
of looking over my evidences, or by neglecting to keep a narrow watch
over my heart; or from weakness of my faith; and all through my
288 MEMOIRS OF
own fault and negligence. The Lord pardon it, and make me more
circumspect for the time to come.
“By all these I have gained this experience:
“First: That God is true and faithful in making good all his pro-
mises seasonably unto us; as, that all things shall work together for our
good; and that God will never fail us nor forsake us, &c.
“Secondly : That it is not in vain to wait upon God, and to seek
unto him in our straits, who is more ready to hear than we are to ask.
“Thirdly : That I desire to see, yea, and the Lord hath showed me
the vanity and uncertainty of the most satisfying comforts that this
world call afford, and what an emptiness there is in them, that so I
may, and I desire so to do, keep weaned affections towards them, and
to sit loose from them, that I may be ready to part with them when
God calls them from me, or me from them.”
“Again, in regard of bodily weakness and sickness, my experiences
have been these : *
“First : That as a broken shoulder can bear no burden, so the least
ăistemper, when the heart is not in a holy frame and temper, is a
burden insupportable. If God hides his face from us, and withdraws
the evidences of his love, and denies to assist us by his strength, we
can neither do nor suffer any thing. And on the contrary I found,
by experience, that I could with much cheerfulness, holy submission,
and willingness, bear great distempers, when I enjoyed the favour of
God in them ; so that then I could readily say, ‘Good is the work of the
Lord,” as well as his word. And, ‘I will bear the indignation of the
Lord, because I have sinned against him,” Mic. vii. 9. And, ‘ though
he slay me, yet will I trust in him, Job, xiii. 15.
“Secondly, I ſound by experience also, that by my pains and sick-
ness I was the better able to sympathize with, and to pity and pray for,
others in the like case.
“Thirdly, Hereby I learned the more to prize health : and that, Be-
cause in health we have liberty and opportunity to enjoy the public
ordinances with others of God’s people, whereby the graces of God’s
people are quickened, strengthened, and increased in us: which other-
wise, by reason of our corrupt natures, are apt to grow cold and languish,
as will our bodies when they want food. Because in health we enjoy the
benefit and the comfort of sweet and quiet sleep, which much refreshes
and cheers, and which commonly we want in sickness. Because in
health we find sweet satisfying comfort in the use of God’s good crea-
tures; whereas in sickness the daintiest food is loathsome and trouble-
some. The consideration of these things made me the more to prize
health; to be very thankful for it, and the more careful to employ and
improve health and strength to God’s glory, and the furtherance of mine
own salvation.”
“In regard of public dangers, I have had a great deal of experience of
God’s goodness towards me and mine several ways, and at several times.
For,
“First: When, in the beginning of our civil wars and distractions, I
was sometimes overwhelmed with base and distrustful fears, occasioned
by my not acting faith upon the promises, and not remembering my
former experiences, nor considering God’s love, power, and fidelity to
his children, in performing his so many gracious promises, made unto
MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 289
them in all estates and conditions, and to me among the rest: hereupon
I resolved, by God’s grace and assistance, not to give way to this dis-
trust and diffidence, praying God to assist me therein, and found more
courage then formerly, so far as I know mine own heart; though truly
the heart is very deceitful, as I have found by sad experience. The
Lord teach and enable me to rely upon him with more courage and
constancy, and more to live by faith upon his promises than formerly
I have done.
“Indeed, I have been apt to fall into new fears upon approaching dan-
gers; yet, upon successes and glorious deliverances, I have oft resolved
never to distrust God again, and yet my naughty heart hath deceived
me and made me ready to faint. But this I found by experience, to
the praise of my God’s free grace, that as troubles have abounded, my
consolations have much more abounded: for God brought seasonably into
my mind many precious promises, which were as so many sweet cordials
which much supported and comforted my heart, and upheld my spirit:
when also new storms have arisen and unexpected deliverances have
followed, I have resolved and do resolve, by God’s grace, not to distrust
him any more. Yea, though more and greater dangers shall arise, yet
will I trust in and stay myself upon him, though, as Job said, “he should
slay me.” The good Lord establish my heart in this good and holy
resolution, who is able to keep us to the end, and hath promised that
he “will preserve us by his power, through faith, to the salvation of our
souls.’”
“In regard to Satan’s temptations, especially concerning my coming
to the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, my experiences have been these :
“Finding often that I was very unable to fit and prepare myself for
a comfortable approach to that sacred ordinance, I used to desire the
prayers of the congregation unto God in my behalf, and I used the best
endeavours I could in private, as God enabled me, though I came
far short of what was required, and of what I desired ; so that I did
trust and hope, though God’s mercy, to find a comfortable day of it,
and to have it a sealing ordinance to my soul. But, on the contrary,
I found much deadness and little spiritual taste, relish, and comfort in
the use of it; so that my spirit was oft much troubled and cast down
in me, fearing lest I had some secret sin undiscovered and unrepented
of, which caused the Lord thus to hide his face from me.
“But then my gracious God brought this into my mind, that the
Lord doth sometimes afflict us for the exercise and improvement of our
graces, as well as to humble us for our sins. I also considered, that
as the Lord doth tender great mercies to us in this sacrament, renew-
ing his covenant of grace, and sealing untous the pardon of our sins in
the blood of Christ; so he gives us leave to engage ourselves, by renew-
ing our covenant with him, to believe in him, and to trust upon Christ
for life and salvation: and it pleased God to give me faith to apply
this in particular to my own soul; and a while after to show me and
to make good to my soul that precious and comfortable promise, that
though “he hide his face from us for a little moment, yet with mercy
and loving-kindness he will return to us again. This was a wonder-
ful comfort and support to my dejected heart. Blessed be the Lord
for ever ! I desire to treasure up these experiences, that for the future
I may resolve in the like case to put my whole trust and confidence in
37
tº $
290 MEMOIRS OF
him, that so Satan may not entrap me in his snares through unbelief,
but that I may resist ‘ him steadfast in the faith:’ for I am not altoge-
ther ignorant of his devices. God’s promise is, that ‘in all these things
we shall be more than conquerors, through him that hath loved us,’
and hath said, that ‘ this is the victory which overcometh the world,
even our faith.’” 1 John, v. 4.
“In the year 1669, there came to us the sad news of the death of
my second son, Mr. John Clarke, a godly and faithful minister, rector
of Cotgrave, in Nottinghamshire, who died the 18th of September.
Thus, as the waves of the sea follow one another, so God is pleased
to exercise his children with one affliction after another. He sees that
whilst we carry about with us this body of sin, we have need of mani-
fold trials and temptations, as saith the Apostle, 1 Pet. i. 6, ‘Now
for a season ye are in heaviness, if need be, through manifold tempta-
tion;’ to keep us under, and to make us the better to remember our-
selves.
“Indeed, it hath been the Lord’s course and dealing with me ever
since he stopped me in the way as I was posting to hell, to raise up one
affliction or other, either inward or outward, either from Satan, the
world, or from mine own corrupt heart and nature ; not having grace
and wisdom to behave and carry myself as I ought under his various
dispensations and providences, as appeared at this time by his laying so
great and grievous an affliction upon me, in taking away so dear a son,
from whom I had much soul-comfort, and ardent affections, which he
manifested by his fervent prayers for me, and by his spiritual letters
and writings to me, wherein he applied himself suitably to my comfort
in those inward troubles of heart and spirit which lay upon me. This
caused my grief and sorrows to take the greater hold of me, upon the
loss of one who was so useful to me; yet, hereby I do not derogate
from my elder son, from whom I have the like help and comfort.
“Upon this sad occasion my grief grew so great that I took no
pleasure of any thing in the world; but was so overwhelmed with me-
lancholy, and my natural strength was so abated, that little food served
me, and I judged that I could not live long in such a condition.
“Hereupon I began to examine my heart why it should be so with
me, and whether carnal and immoderate affections were not the great
cause of my trouble, which I much feared; and having used many argu-
ments, and laid down many reasons to myself to quiet and moderate my
passions, and yet nothing prevailed to quiet and calm my heart, and to
bow me to the obedience of his revealed will ; and withal, considering
that it was God only that could quiet the heart, and set our unruly and
carnal affections into an holy frame and order, and that he was a ‘pre-
sent help in times of trouble ;’ I often and earnestly sought unto the
Lord with many prayers and tears, beseeching him to quiet my heart,
and to overpower and tame my unruly affections, so as to be willing to
submit unto him, and to bear his afflicting hand patiently and fruitfully,
and to be ready and willing to submit, either in doing or suffering, to
whatsoever he pleased to impose upon me, and to be ready to part with
the best outward comfort I enjoyed, whensoever he should please to call
for the same.
“And it pleased God seasonably to hear my prayer, to regard my
tears, and to grant my requests, by calming and quieting my heart and
MRS. CATHERINE CLARKE. 291
spirit, and by giving me much more contentedness to submit to his
holy will and good pleasure, who is a ‘God of judgment,” and knows
the fittest times and seasons to come in with refreshing comforts, and
who “waits to be gracious’ unto those that trust in him. Yet surely I
was not without many temptations in this hour of darkness, from that
subtle adversary, who always stands at watch, to insinuate and frame
his temptations answerable to our conditions, and like a “roaring lion
walks about continually, seeking to devour’ poor, yet precious souls.
Then I ‘ called upon the Lord in my distress, and he answered me and
delivered me.” &
“Bless the Lord, O my soul and all that is within me bless his holy
name !” For he hath remembered me in my low and troubled estate,
because ‘ his mercy endureth for ever.”
“Having thus had new experience of God’s readiness to hear and
help when I called upon him ; and having found that it is not in vain
to seek to and to depend upon God in all our straits, I could not but
record these things, that so “every one that is godly may seek unto him
in a time wherein he may be found,” who is a ‘present help” in times
of trouble, and who doth for us “abundantly above what we can ask or
think.”
“The Lord knows that I write these things for no other end, but
that God may have the glory, and that others, especially my relations,
may be encouraged to seek God in their straits, and to trust in him at
all times. Amen.”
..MR. S. L. U C Y H U T C H IN SO N.
[The Memoirs of the Life of Colonel Hutchinson, of Owthorpe,
written by his widow, form one of the most valuable pieces of contem-
porary history in the language. The following fragment, written by
herself, contains some highly interesting particulars of her own early
history, while it presents a faithful picture of her character.]
“THE Almighty Author of all beings, in his various providences,
whereby he conducts the lives of men from the cradle to the tomb,
exercises no less wisdom and goodness than he manifests power and
greatness in their creation. But such is the stupidity of blind mortals,
that instead of employing their studies in these admirable books of
providence, wherein God daily exhibits to us glorious characters of his
love, kindness, wisdom, and justice, they ungratefully regard them not,
and call the most wonderful operations of the great God the common
accidents of human life; especially if they be such as are usual, and
exercised towards them in ages wherein they are not very capable of
observation, and whereon they seldom employ any reflection ; for, in
things great and extraordinary, some, perhaps, will take notice of God’s
working, who either forget or believe not that he takes as well a care
and account of their smallest concernments, even the hairs of their
heads.
“Finding myself in some kind guilty of this general neglect, I
thought it might be a means to stir up my thankfulness for things past,
and to encourage my faith for the future, if I recollected, as much as I
have heard or can remember, the passages of my youth, and the gene-
ral and particular providences exercised toward me, both in the en-
trance and progress of my life. Herein I meet with so many special
indulgences as require a distinct consideration, they being all of them
to be regarded as talents intrusted to my improvement for God’s glory.
The parents by whom I received my life, the places where I began and
continued it, the time when I was brought forth to be a witness of
God’s wonderful workings in the earth, the rank that was given me
in my generation, and the advantages I received in my person, each
of them carries along with it many mercies which are above my utter-
ance ; and as they give me infinite cause of glorifying God’s goodness,
so I cannot reflect on them without deep humiliation for the small
improvement I have made of so rich a stock; which, that I may yet
by God’s grace better employ, I shall recall and seriously ponder; and
first, as far I have since learnt, set down the condition of things in the
place of my nativity at that time when I was sent into the world.
It was on the 29th day of January, in the year of our Lord 1620,
that, in the Tower of London, the principal city of the English Isle, I
was, about four of the clock in the morning, brought forth to behold the
ensuing light. My father was Sir Allen Apsley, Lieutenant of the
MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 293
Tower of London; my mother, his third wife, was Lucy, the youngest
daughter of Sir John St. John, of Lidiard Tregoz, in Wiltshire, by
his second wife. My father had then living a son and a daughter by
his former wives, and by my mother three sons, I being her eldest
daughter. The land was then at peace, it being towards the latter
end of the reign of King James: if that quietness may be called a
peace, which was rather like the calm and smooth surface of the sea,
whose dark womb is already impregnated of a horrid tempest.
“Whoever considers England, will find it no small favour of God to
have been made one of its natives, both upon spiritual and outward
accounts. The happiness of the soil and air contribute all things that
are necessary to the use or delight of man’s life. The celebrated glory
of this Isle's inhabitants, ever since they received a mention in history,
confers some honour upon every one of her children, and with it an
obligation to continue in that magnanimity and virtue which hath
famed this Island, and raised her head in glory higher than the great
kingdoms of the neighbouring Continent. Britain hath been as a gar-
den enclosed, wherein all things that man can wish, to make a plea-
sant life, are planted and grow in her own soil; and whatsoever foreign
countries yield to increase admiration and delight, are brought in by
her fleets. The people, by the plenty of their country, not being forced
to toil for bread, have ever addicted themselves to more generous em-
ployments, and been reckoned, almost in all ages, as valiant warriors
as any part of the world sent forth ; insomuch that the greatest Roman
captains thought it not unworthy of their expeditions, and took great
glory in triumphs for imperfect conquests. Lucan upbraids Julius
Caesar for returning hence with a repulse ; and it was two hundred
years before the land could be reduced into a Roman province ; which
at length was done, and such of the nation, then called Picts, as scorned
servitude, were driven into the barren country of Scotland, where they
have ever since remained a perpetual trouble to the successive inhabit-
ants of this place. The Britons, that thought it better to work for
their conquerors in a good land, than to have the freedom to starve in
a cold and barren quarter, were by degrees fetched away, and wasted
in the civil broils of these Roman lords, till the land, almost depopu-
lated, lay open to the incursions of every borderer, and were forced to
call a stout warlike people, the Saxons, out of Germany, to their assist-
ance. These willingly came at their call, but were not so easily sent
out again, nor persuaded to let their hosts inhabit with them, for they
drove the Britons into the mountains of Wales, and seated themselves
in those pleasant countries, which from the new masters received a
new name, and ever since retained it, being called England; on which
the warlike Dane made many attempts, with various success; but
after about two or three hundred years’vain contest, they were for ever
driven out, with shame and loss, and the Saxon Heptarchy, melted
into a monarchy, which continued till the superstitious prince, who
was sainted for his ungodly chastity, left an empty throne to him that
could seize it. He who first set up his standard in it, could not hold
it, but with his life left it again for the Norman usurper, who, partly
by violence, partly by falsehood, laid here the foundation of his monar-
chy, in the people's blood, in which it hath swam about 500 years, till
the flood that bore it was ploughed into such deep furrows as had
294 MEMOIRS OF
almost sunk the proud vessel. Of those Saxons that remained subjects
to the Norman conqueror, my father’s family descended; of those
Normans that came in with him, my mother’s was derived; both of
them, as all the rest in England, contracting such affinity, by mutual
marriages, that the distinction remained but a short space, Normans
and Saxons becoming one people, who by their valour grew terrible to
all the neighbouring princes, and have not only bravely quitted them-
selves in their own defence, but have showed abroad how easily they
could subdue the world, if they did not prefer the quiet enjoyment of
their own part above the conquest of the whole.
“Better laws and a happier constitution of government no nation
ever enjoyed, it being a mixture of monarchy, aristocracy, and democra-
cy, with sufficient fences against the pest of every one of those forms,
tyranny, faction, and confusion. Yet is it not possible for man to de-
vise such just and excellent bounds, as will keep in wild ambition,
when princes' flatterers encourage that beast to break his fence; which
it hath often done, with miserable consequences both to the prince and
people; but could never in any age so tread down popular liberty, but
that it rose again with renewed vigour, till at length it trod on those
that trampled it before. And in the just bounds wherein our kings
were so well hedged in, the surrounding princes have with terror seen
the reproof of their usurpations over their free brethren, whom they rule
rather as slaves than subjects, and are only served for fear, but not for
love; whereas this people have ever been as affectionate to good, as un-
pliable to bad sovereigns.
“Nor is it only valour and generosity that renown this nation ; in
arts we have advanced equal to our neighbours, and in those that are
most excellent, exceeded them. The world hath not yielded men
more famous in navigation, nor ships better built or furnished. Ag-
riculture is as ingeniously practised ; the English archery were the
terror of Christendom and their clothes the ornament. But these
low things bounded not their great spirits: in all ages, it hath yield-
ed men as famous in all kinds of learning, as Greece or Italy can
boast of. ---
“And to complete the crown of all their glory, reflected from the lus-
tre of their ingenuity, valour, wit, learning, justice, wealth, and boun-
ty, their piety and devotion to God and his worship hath made them
one of the most truly noble nations in the Christian world ; God ha-
ving, as it were, enclosed a people here, out of the vast common of the
world, to serve him with a pure and undefiled worship. Lucius the
British king, was one of the first monarchs of the earth that received
, the faith of Christ into his heart and kingdom ; Henry the Eighth the
first prince that broke the antichristian yoke off from his own and his
subjects' neck. Here it was that the first Christian emperor received
his crown. Here began the early dawn of gospel light, by Wickliffe and
other faithful witnesses, whom God raised up after the black and hor-
rid midnight of antichristianism; and a more plentiful harvest of devout
confessors, constant martyrs, and holy worshippers of God, hath not
grown in any field of the church, throughout all ages, than those whom
God hath here glorified his name and gospel by. Yet hath not this
wheat been without its tares. God, in comparison with other countries,
hath made this as a paradise; so, to complete the parallel, the serpent
MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 295
hath in all times been busy to seduce, and not unsuccessful, ever stir-
ring up opposers to the infant truths of Christ.
“No sooner was the faith of Christ embraced in this nation, but the
neighbouring heathens invaded the innocent Christians, and slaugh-
tered multitudes of them. And when, by the mercy of God, the con-
quering pagans were afterwards converted, and that there were none
left to oppose the name of Christ with open hostility then the sub-.
tle serpent put off his own horrid appearance, and comes out in a Chris-
tian dress, to persecute Christ in his poor prophets, that bore witness
against the corruption of the times. This intestine quarrel hath been
more successful to the devil, and more afflictive to the church, than all
open wars; and, I fear, will never happily be decided, till the Prince of
peace come to conclude the controversy; which at the time of my birth
was working up into that tempest, wherein I have shared many perils,
many fears, and many sorrows, and many more mercies, consolations,
and preservations, which Ishall have occasion to mention in other places.
“For the place of my birth, I shall only desire to remember the good-
ness of the Lord, who hath caused my lot to fall in a good ground, who
hath fed me in a pleasant pasture, where the well-springs of life flow te
all that desire to drink of them. And this is no small favour, if I con
sider how many poor people perish among the heathen, where they me
wer hear the name of Christ; how many poor Christians spring up in
countries enslaved by Turkish and antichristian tyrants, whose souls
and bodies languish under miserable slavery. None knows what
mercy it is to live under a good and wholesome law, that have not
considered the sad condition of being subject to the will of an un-
limited man ; and surely it is too universal a sin in this nation, that
the common mercies of God to the whole land are so slightly regarded,
and so inconsiderately passed over. Certainly these are circumstances
which much magnify God’s loving kindness and his special favour to
all that are of English birth, and call for a greater return of duty
from us than from all other people of the world. *
“Nor is the place only, but the time of my coming into the world, a
considerable mercy to me. It was not in the midnight of popery, nor
in the dawn of the gospel’s restored day, when light and shades were
blended and almost undistinguished, but when the Sun of truth was
exalted in his progress, and hastening towards a meridian glory. It
was indeed early in the morning, God being pleased to allow me the
privilege of beholding the admirable growth of gospel light in my days:
and oh that my soul may never forget to bless and praise his name
for the wonders of power and goodness, wisdom and truth, which have
been manifested in this my time.
“The next blessing I have to consider in my nativity, is my parents,
both of them pious and virtuous in their own conversation, and careful
instructors of my youth, not only by precept but example: which, if I
had leisure and ability, I should have transmitted to my posterity, to
both give them the honour due from me in such a grateful memorial,
and to increase my children's improvement of the patterns they set
them. But since I shall detract from those I would celebrate, by my
imperfect commemorations, I shall content myself to sum up some few
things for my own use, and let the rest alone, which I either knew not.
or have forgotten, or cannot worthily express.
296 MEMOIRS OF
“My grandfather by the father's side, was a gentleman of a competent
estate, about seven or eight hundred pounds a year, in Sussex. He,
being descended of a younger house, had his residence at a place called
Pulborough: the family out of which he camewas an Apsley, of Apsley,
a town where they had been seated before the conquest, and ever since
continued, till of late the last heir male of that eldest house, being the
son of Sir Edward Apsley, is dead without issue, and his estate gone
with his sister’s daughters into other families. Particularities concern-
ing my father’s kindred or country I never knew much of, by reason of
my youth at the time of his death and my education in far distant pla-
ces; only in general I have heard, that my grandfather was a man
well reputed and beloved in his country, and that it had been such a
continued custom for my ancestors to take wives at home, that there
was scarce a family of any note in Sussex to which they were not by
intermarriages nearly related ; but I was myself a stranger to them all.
except my Lord Goring, who living at court, I have seen with my father.
and heard of him, because he was appointed one of my father’s execu-
tors, though he declined the trouble. My grandfather had seven sons,
of which my father was the youngest ; to the eldest he gave his whole
estate, and to the rest, according to the custom of those times, slight
annuities. The eldest brother married a gentlewoman of a good fa-
mily, and by her had only one son, whose mother dying, my uncle mar-
ried himself again to one of his own maids, and by her had three more
sons: whom, with their mother, my cousin William Apsley, the son of
the first wife, held in such contempt, that a great while after, dying
without children, he gave his estate of inheritance to my father, and
two of my brothers, except about 100l. a year to the eldest of his half
brothers, and annuities of 30l. a piece to the three for their lives. He
died before I was born, but I have heard very honourable mention made
of him in our family. The rest of my father’s brothers went into the
wars in Ireland and the Low Countries; and there remained none of
them, nor their issues, when I was born, but only three daughters, who
bestowed themselves meanly, and their generations are worn out, except
two or three unregarded children.
“My father, at the death of my grandfather, being but a youth at
school, had not patience to stay the perfecting of his studies, but put
himself into present action, sold his annuity, bought himself good
clothes, put some money in his purse, and came to London; and by
means of a relation at court, got a place in the household of Queen
Elizabeth, where he behaved himself so that he won the love of
many of the court, but, being young, took an affection to gaming,
and spent most of the money he had in his purse. About that time,
the Earl of Essex was setting forth for Cales voyage, and my father,
who had a mind to quit his idle court life, procured an employment
from the victualler of the navy, to go along with that fleet: in which
voyage he demeaned himself with so much courage and prudence,
that after his return he was honoured with a very noble and pro-
fitable employment in Ireland. There a rich widow, that had many
children, cast her affections upon him, and he married her; but she
not living many years with him, and having no children by him,
after her death he distributed all her estate among her children, for
whom he ever preserved a fatherly kindness, and some of her grand-
MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 297
children were brought up in his house after I was born. He, by
God’s blessing, and his fidelity and industry, growing in estate and
honour, received a knighthood from King James soon after his coming
to the crown, for some eminent service done to him in Ireland, which
having only heard in my childhood, I cannot perfectly set down.
After that, growing into a familiarity with Sir George Carew, made
now by the king Earl of Totness, a niece of this Earl’s, the daugh-
ter of Sir Peter Carew, who lived a young widow in her uncle’s
house, fell in love with him, which her uncle perceiving, procured a
marriage between them. She had divers children by my father, but
only two of them, a son and daughter, survived her, who died whilst
my father was absent from her in Ireland. He led all the time of
his widowhood a very disconsolate life, careful for nothing in the
world but to educate and advance the son and daughter, the dear
pledges she had left him ; for whose sake he quitted himself of his
employments abroad, and procured himself the office of victualler of
the navy, a place then both of credit and great revenue. His friends,
considering his solitude, had procured him a match of a very rich
widow, who was a lady of as much discretion as wealth; but while he
was upon this design, he chanced to see my mother at the house of
Sir William St. John, who had married her eldest sister, and though
he went on his journey, yet, something in her person and behaviour
be carried along with him, which would not let him accomplish it,
but brought him back to my mother. She was of a noble family,
being the youngest daughter of Sir John St. John, of Lidiard Tregoz,
in the county of Wilts. Her father and mother died when she was
not above five years of age, and yet at her nurse’s ; from whence she
was carried to be brought up in the house of the Lord Grandison, her
father’s younger brother, an honourable and excellent person, but mar-
ried to a lady so jealous of him, and so ill-natured in her jealous fits
to any thing that was related to him, that her cruelties to my mother
exceeded the stories of step-mothers. The rest of my aunts, my mo-
ther's sisters, were dispersed to several places, where they grew up,
till my uncle Sir John St. John being married to the daughter of Sir
Thomas Laten, they were all again brought home to their brother’s
house. There were not in those days so many beautiful women found
in any family as these, but my mother was by the most judgments prefer-
red before all her elder sisters, who, something envious at it, used her
unkindly; yet, all the suitors that came to them still turned their ad-
dresses to her, which she in her youthful innocency neglected, till one
of greater name, estate, and reputation than the rest, happened to fall
deeply in love with her, and to manage it so discreetly, that my
mother could not but entertain him; and my uncle’s wife, who had a
mother's kindness for her, persuaded her to remove herself from her sis-
ters' envy, by going along with her to the Isle of Jersey,where her father
was governor; which she did, and there went into the town, and board-
ed in a French minister's house, to learn the language, that minister hav-
ing been, by the persecution in France, driven to seek his shelter there.
Contracting a dear friendship with this holy man and his wife, she
was instructed in their Geneva discipline, which shé liked so much
better than our service, that she could have been contented to have lived
there, had º; a powerful passion in her heart drawn her back. But, at
}
298 MEMOIRS OF
her return, she met with many afflictions; the gentleman who had pro-
fessed so much love to her, in her absence had been, by most vile prac-
tices and treacheries, drawn out of his senses, and into the marriage
of a person whom, when he recovered his reason, he hated: but
that served only to augment his misfortune; and the circumstances
of that story not being necessary to be here inserted, I shall only add,
that my mother lived in my uncle’s house, secretly discontented at
this accident, but was comforted by the kindness of my uncle’s wife,
who had contracted such an intimate friendship with her, that they
seemed to have but one soul. And in this kindness she had some time
a great solace, till some malicious persons had wrought some jealousies,
which were very groundless in my uncle, concerning his wife; but his
nature being inclinable to that passion, which was fomented in him by
subtle, wicked persons, and my mother endeavouring to vindicate
injured innocence, she was herself not well treated by my uncle;
whereupon she left his house, with a resolution to withdraw herself
into the island, where the good minister was, and there to wear out
her life in the service of God. While she was deliberating, and had fixed
upon it in her own thoughts, resolving to impart it to none, she was
with Sir William St. John, who had married my aunt, when my father
accidentally came in there, and fell so heartily in love with her, that
he persuaded her to marry him, which she did, and her melancholy
made her conform cheerfully to that gravity of habit and conversation,
which was becoming the wife of such a person, who was then forty-
eight years of age, and she not above sixteen. The first year of their
marriage was crowned with a son, called after my father’s name, and
born at East Smithfield, in that house of the king’s which belonged to
my father’s employment in the navy. The next year, they removed to
the Tower of London, whereof my father was made lieutenant, and
there had two sons more before me, and four daughters and two sons
after : of all which, only three sons and two daughters survived him
at the time of his death, which was in the sixty-third year of his age,
after he had three years before languished of a consumption that suc-
ceeded a fever which he got in the unfortunate voyage to the Isle of
Rhee.
“He died in the month of May, 1630, sadly bewailed by not only all
his dependants and relations, but by all that were acquainted with him,
for he never conversed with any to whom he was not at some time or
in some way beneficial; and his nature was so delighted in doing good,
that it won him the love of all men, even his enemies, whose envy and
malice it was his custom to overcome with obligations. He had great
natural parts, but was too active in his youth to stay the heightening of
them by study of dead writings; but in the living books of men’s con-
versations he soon became so skilful that he was never mistaken but
where his own good would not let him give him credit to the evil he
discerned in others. He was a most indulgent husband, and no less
kind to his children; a most noble master, who thought it not enough
to maintain his servants honourably while they were with him, but, for
all that deserved it, provided offices or settlements, as for children. He
was a father to all his prisoners, sweetening with such compassionate
kindness their restraint, that the affliction of a prison was not felt in his
days. He had a singular kindness for all persons that were eminent
MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 299
either in learning or arms; and when, through the ingratitude and vice
of that age, many of the wives and children of Queen Elizabeth’s glo-
rious captains were reduced to poverty, his purse was their common
treasury, and they knew not the inconvenience of decayed fortunes till
he was dead : many of those valiant seamen he maintained in prison,
many he redeemed out of prison, and cherished with an extraordinary
bounty. If among his excellencies one outshined the rest, it was the
generous liberality of his mind, wherein goodness and greatness
were so equally distributed, that they mutually embellished each
other. Pride and covetousness had not the least place in his breast.
As he was in love with true honour, so he contemned vain titles; and
though in his youth he accepted an addition to his birth, in his riper
years he refused a baronetcy, which the king offered him. He was
severe in the regulating of his family, especially would not endure the
least immodest behaviour or dress in any woman under his roof. There
was nothing he hated more than an insignificant gallant, that could
only make his legs and prune himself, and court a lady, but had not
brains to employ himself in things more suitable to man’s noble sex.
Fidelity in his trust, love and loyalty to his prince, were not the least of
his virtues, but those wherein he was not excelled by any of his own or
succeeding times. The large estate he reaped by his happy industy, he
did many times over as freely resign again to the king's service, till he
left the greatest part of it at his death in the king's hands. All his vir-
tues wanted not the crown of all virtue, piety, and true devotion to God.
As his life was a continued exercise of faith and charity, it concluded
with prayers and blessings, which were the only consolations his deso-
late family could receive in his death. Never did any two better agree
in magnanimity and bounty than he and my mother, who seemed to be
actuated by the same soul, so little did she grudge any of his liberali-
ties to strangers, or he contradict any of her kindnesses to all her rela-
tions; her house being a common home to all of them, and a nursery to
their children. He gave her a noble allowance of 300l. a year for her
own private expense, and had given her all her own portion to dispose
of how she pleased, as soon as she was married, which she suffered to
increase in her friend’s hands: and what my father allowed her, she spent
not in vanities, although she had what was rich and requisite upon occa-
sions, but she laid most of it out in pious and charitable uses. Sir Walter
Raleigh and Mr. Ruthen being prisoners in the Tower, and addicting
themselves to chymistry, she suffered them to make their rare experi-
ments at her cost, partly to comfort and divert the poor prisoners, and
partly to gain the knowledge of their experiments, and the medicines
to help such poor people as were not able to seek to physicians. By
these means she acquired a great deal of skill, which was very profitable
to many all her life. She was not only to these, but to all the
other prisoners that came into the Tower, as a mother. All the
time she dwelt in the Tower, if any were sick, she made them broths
and restoratives with her own hands, visited and took care of them,
and provided them with all necessaries: if any were afflicted, she com-
forted them, so that they felt not the inconvenience of a prison who
were in that place. She was not less bountiful to many poor widows
and orphans, whom officers of higher and lower rank had left behind
them as objects of charity. Her own house was filled with distressed
300 MEMOIRS OF
families of her relations, whom she maintained and supplied in a noble
way. The care of the worship and service of God both in her soul
and her house, and the education of her children, was her principal
care. She was a constant frequenter of week-day lectures, and a great
lover and encourager of good ministers, and most diligent in her pri-
vate reading and devotions.
“When my father was sick, she was not satisfied with the attendance
of all that were about him, but made herself his nurse, and cook, and
physician, and, through the blessing of God and her indefatigable la-
bours and watching, preserved him a great while longer than the phy-
sicans thought it possible for his nature to hold out. At length, when the
Lord took him to rest, she showed as much humility and patience, un-
der that great change, as moderation and bounty in her more plentiful
and prosperous condition, and died in my house at Owthorpe, in the
county of Nottingham, in the year 1659.
“The privilege of being born of and educated by such excellent
parents, I have often revolved with great thankfulness for the mercy,
and humiliation that I did not more improve it. After my mother had
had three sons, she was very desirous of a daughter; and when the
women at my birth told her I was one, she received me with a great deal
of joy; and the nurses fancying, because I had more complexion and fa-
vour than is usual in so young children, that I should not live, my mother
became fonder of me, and more endeavoured to nurse me. As soon as
I was weaned, a French woman was taken to be my dry nurse, and I
was taught to speak French and English together. My mother, while
she was with child of me, dreamed that she was walking in the garden
with my father, and that a star came down into her hand, with other
circumstances, which, though I have often heard, I minded not enough
to remember perfectly; only my father told her, her dream signified
she should have a daughter of some extraordinary eminency; which
thing, like such vain prophecies, wrought, as far as it could, its own
accomplishment;* for my father and mother fancying me then beauti-
ful, and more than ordinarily apprehensive, applied all their cares, and
spared no cost to improve me in my education, which procured me the
admiration of those that flattered my parents. By the time I was four
years old, I read English perfectly, and having a great memory, I was
carried to sermons, and while I was very young, could remember and
repeat them exactly; and being caressed, the love of praise tickled me,
" and made me attend more heedfully. When I was about seven years
of age, I remember I had at one time eight tutors in several qualities,
languages, music, dancing, writing, and needlework; but my genius
was quite averse from all but my book, and that I was so eager of, that
my mother thinking it prejudiced my health, would moderate me in it;
yet, this rather animated me than kept me back, and every moment I
could steal from my play, I would employ in any book I could find,
when my own were locked up from me. After dinner and supper, I
still had an hour allowed me to play, and then I would steal into some
* “This is an ingenious way of accounting for the fulfilment of superstitious predictions and
expectations, which might frequently, with close attention, be traced to their source, as is here
done. It is clear that in the present case it occasioned a peculiar care to be taken of her edu-
cation; and this again º her mind and disposition to take that singular stamp which at-
º * of Mr. Hutchinson, and led her to the highest situation that she could wish
OT, . Hº
MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 301
hole or other to read. My father would have me learn Latin, and I was
so apt that I outstripped my brothers who were at school, although my
father's chaplain, that was my tutor, was a pitiful dull fellow. My
brothers, who had a great deal of wit, had some emulation at the pro-
gress I made in my learning, which very well pleased my father, though
my mother would have been contented I had not so wholly tº:
myself to that as to neglect my other qualities. As for music and dancing,
I profited very little in them, and would never practise my lute or harp-
sichord but when my masters were with me ; and for my needle, I ab-
solutely hated it. Play among other children I despised ; and when I
was forced to entertain such as came to visit me, I tired them with more
grave instructions than their mothers, and plucked all their babies to
pieces, and kept the children in such awe, that they were glad when I
entertained myself with elder company, to whom I was very accepta-
ble ; and living in the house with many persons that had a great deal
of wit, and very profitable serious discourses being frequent at my fa-
ther’s table and in my mother's drawing-room, I was very attentive to
all, and gathered up things that I would utter again to great admiration
of many that took my memory and imitation for wit. It pleased God,
that through the good instructions of my mother, and the sermons she
carried me to, I was convinced that the knowledge of God was the most
excellent study, and accordingly applied myself to it, and to practise as
I was taught. I used to exhort my mother’s maids much, and to turn
their idle discourses to good subjects; but I thought, when I had done
this on the Lord’s-day, and every day performed my due tasks of read-
ing and praying, that then I was free to any thing that was not sin.
For I was not at that time convinced of the vanity of conversation
which was not scandalously wicked : I thought it no sin to learn or
hear witty songs and amorous sonnets or poems, and twenty things of
that kind, wherein I was so apt, that I became the confidant in all
the loves that were managed among my mother's young women; and
was none of them but had many lovers, and some particular friends
beloved above the rest.”
Here Mrs. Hutchinson’s story of herself abruptly breaks off; but, from
the memoirs of Col. Hutchinson, we learn some further interesting par-
ticulars. Mr. Hutchinson was in his twenty-second year when he con-
ceived a romantic prepossession in favour of Miss Apsley, from what he
heard of her in a large party; and at their first interview, this preposses-
sion became a fixed and ardent attachment. Mrs. Hutchinson piously
refers the impression made on his mind to Divine Providence. That
he should have so strong impulses towards a stranger whom he never
saw, was “certainly,” she says, “ of the Lord, though he perceived it
not.” It were dangerous, in many cases, to draw such a conclusion ;
but, in this instance, the event justifies such a view of the whole trans-
action. The passage in which Mrs. Hutchinson, speaking of herself
in the third person, describes the warmth of Mr. Hutchinson's attach-
ment, and ascribes to his influence the formation of her own character,
is too beautiful and characteristic to be passed over.
. “Never was there a passion more ardent and less idolatrous. He loved
her better than his life, with inexpressible tenderness and kindness,
had a most high obliging esteem of her, yet still considered honour, re-
302 MEMOIRS OF
ligion, and duty above her; nor ever suffered the intrusion of such a
dotage as should blind him from marking her imperfections. These he
looked upon with such an indulgent eye, as did not abate his love and
esteem of her, while it augmented his care to blot out all those spots
which might make her appear less worthy of that respect he paid her.
And thus indeed he soon made her more equal to him than he found
her ; for she was a very faithful mirror, reflecting truly, though but
Tº dimly, his own glories upon him, so long as he was present ; but she,
that was nothing before his inspection gave her a fair figure, when he
was removed was only filled with a dark pist, and never could again
take in any delightful object, nor return any shining representation.
The greatest excellency she had, was the power of apprehending, and
the virtue of loving his : so, as his shadow, she waited on him every
where, till he was taken into that region of light, which admits of none,
and then she vanished into nothing. 'Twas not her face he loved ;
her honour and her virtue were his mistresses, and these (like Pygma-
lion’s) images of his own making ; for he polished and gave form to
what he found with all the roughness of the quarry about it; but
meeting with a compliant subject for his own wise government, he
found as much satisfaction as he gave, and never had occasion to
number his marriage among his infelicities.”
They were married July 3, 1638. In Oct. 1641, they took up their
residence at Mr. Hutchinson’s seat at Owthorpe in Nottinghamshire,
where they had passed but a few peaceful and happy months, when “the
kingdom began to blaze out with the long conceived flame of civil war.”
From this period, the life of Mrs. Hutchinson is identified with the
narrative she has given of the public transactions in which the Colo-
nel, her husband, took so distinguished a part. Although her own bro-
ther, Sir Allen Apsley, and the greater part of her relations, took part
with the king, Mrs. Hutchinson warmly concurred in the patriotic de-
votion of her husband to the cause of his country. When Sir Richard
Biron, his relative, endeavoured, through the medium of a friend, to
gain over the Colonel, then governor of Nottingham Castle, to the royal
interest, using as an argument, that the loss of his whole estate was
inevitable if he persisted in the engagement he was in, the Governor
returned the following answer: “That except he found his own heart
prone to such treachery, he might consider there was, if nothing else,
so much of a Biron’s blood in him, that he should very much scorn to
betray or quit a trust he had undertaken ; but the grounds he went on
were such, that he very much despised such a thought as to sell his
faith for base rewards or fears, and therefore could not consider the loss
of his estate, which his wife was as willing to part with as himself, in this
cause, wherein he was resolved to persist, in the same place in which
it had pleased God to call him to the defence of it.” On many occa-
sions, the heroic, and at the same time amiable character of this extra-
ordinary woman, was illustriously displayed, too often in contrast with
the spirit of those dark and troubled times. The following passage
from the Memoirs, affords a striking instance.
“There was a large room, which was the chapel, in the castle. . This
they had filled full of prisoners, besides a very bad prison, which was
no better than a dungeon, called the Lion's Den. And the new Cap-
tain Palmer, and another minister, having nothing else to do, walked
MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 303
up and down the castle yard, insulting and beating the poor prisoners
as they were brought up. In the encounter, one of the Derby captains
was slain, and five of our men hurt, who, for want of another surgeon,
were brought to the Governor’s wife; and she, having some excellent
balsams and plaisters in her closet, with the assistance of a gentleman
that had some skill, dressed all their wounds, whereof some were dan-
gerous, being all shots, with such good success that they were all cured
in convenient time. After our hurt men were drest, as she stood at
her chamber door, seeing three of the prisoners Sorely cut and carried
down bleeding into the Lion’s Den, she desired the marshal to bring
them in to her, and bound up and dressed their wounds also ; which
while she was doing, Captain Palmer came in and told her, his soul ab-
horred to see this favour to the enemies of God. She replied, she had
done nothing but what she thought was her duty, in humanity to them,
as fellow-creatures, not as enemies. But he was very ill satisfied with
her, and with the Governor presently after, when he came into a large
room where a very great supper was prepared, and more room and
meat than guests; to fill up which, the Governor had sent for one Mr.
Mason, one of the prisoners, a man of good fashion, who had married
a relation of his, and was brought up more in fury than for any proof
of guilt in him, and I know not whether two or three others the Gover-
nor had called to meat with him. For which Captain Palmer bel-
lowed loudly against him, as a favourer of malignants and cavaliers.
Who could have thought this godly, zealous man, who could scarce
eat his supper for grief to see the enemies of God thus favoured, should
have after entered into a conspiracy against the Governor, with those
very same persons who now so much provoked his zeal But the
Governor took no notice of it, though he set the very soldiers a mutter-
ing against him and his wife for these poor humanities.”
Mrs. Hutchinson’s singular magnanimity appeared on another occa-
sion, when, having discovered a conspiracy against the Colonel, during
his absence from Owthorpe, in which the family chaplain, her own wait-
ing-woman, and two more servants, were implicated, she contented
herself with taking active measures to defeat the plot, dismissing the
principal accomplices with impunity. Ivie, the author of the plot, had
attended on the Colonel. Him, Mrs. Hutchinson, not being willing to
cast him into prison as he deserved, took with her immediately to Lon-
don, and said nothing till he came there. “Then she told him how
base and treacherous he had been; but, to save her own shame for
having entertained so false a person, and for her mother’s sake, whom
he had formerly served, she was willing to dismiss him privately,
without acquainting the Colonel, who could not know but he must
punish him. So she gave him something, and turned him away, and told
her husband, she came only to acquaint him with the insurrection, and
her own fears of staying in the country without him.” On their return,
having ascertained that the chaplain had been Ivie's confederate, Mrs.
Hutchinson “told him privately of it, and desired him to find a pretence
to take his leave of the Colonel, that she might not be necessitated to
complain, and procure him the punishment his treason deserved. He
went away thus, but so far from being wrought upon, that he hated
her to the death for her kindness.” Conduct like this stands in no need
304 MEMOIRs of
*
of comment: it showed her to be indeed one who had drunk deep into
the spirit of the gospel.
At the Restoration, Colonel Hutchinson was chiefly indebted to the
exertions of his admirable wife, and the good offices of her brother Sir
Allen Apsley, for the favour extended to him in the first instance. She
saw that he was ambitious of being a public sacrifice, and “herein only
in her whole life resolved to disobey him, and to improve all the affection
he had to her for his safety.” In compliance with her entreaty, he con-
cealed himself, till she had, by a letter written in his name to the
Speaker, ascertained the temper of the House of Commons, who voted
the Colonel free without any engagement; his only punishment being,
a discharge from the present parliament, and disqualification for any
office civil or military. “Although he was most thankful to God, yet
he was not very well satisfied in himself for accepting the deliverance.
His wife, who thought she had never deserved so well of him, as in the
endeavours and labours she exercised to bring him off, never displeased
him more in her life, and had much ado to persuade him to be content-
ed with his deliverance.” But all her solicitude for his safety could
not induce her to listen for a moment to any measure which would
secure it at the expense of honour. When a kinsman of hers, of the
court party, after disclosing to her the secret resolution of the ministry
to exclude the Colonel from the benefit of the indemnity, told her, “to
draw her in by examples, how the late statesmen’s wives came and
offered all the information they had gathered from their husbands, and
how she could not but know more than any of them, and that, if
yet she would impart any thing that might show her gratitude, she
might redeem her family from ruin;” Mrs. Hutchinson disdained to turn
informer, replying, that “she perceived any safety one could buy of
them was not worth the price of honour and conscience ; that she
knew nothing of state managements, or, if she did, she would not esta-
blish herself upon any man’s blood and ruin.” She tried, indeed, to
persuade the Colonel to leave England, which if he had dome, he would
probably have lived to see the happy re-establishment of our constitu-
tional liberty,and to be again a blessing to his country; but he considered
that his flight would betray a distrust of God’s providence, and would not
take this timely step. They retired to Owthorpe, where they were
suffered to pass a winter and a summer, unmolested, observing the
greatest privacy, enjoying themselves “with much patience and com-
fort, not envying the glories and honours of the court, nor the prosperity
of the wicked.” But, on the 11th of Oct. 1663, the Colonel was
put under arrest, by order of the Duke of Buckingham, upon alleged
suspicion of being concerned in a treasonable plot. After eight days,
he was set at liberty, on engaging to stay a week at his own house;
but was again taken up on the 23d, and after a week's illegal close
imprisonment, was brought up to London, and committed, without
having undergone any examination, to the Tower. After making an
ineffectual personal application to Secretary Bennet, afterwards Earl
of Arlington, to obtain for the Colonel leave to see persons on private
business, Mrs. Hutchinson now submitted to suffer with her high-
minded husband, according to his own will and express injunctions, in
patient resignation. On his being transferred, still without trial or legal
MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 305
cause of imprisonment, to Sandown Castle, his wife, when she “under-
stood his bad accommodation, made all the means she could by her
friends, to procure liberty that she might be in the Castle with him ;
but that was absolutely denied ; whereupon she and her son and daugh-
ter went to Deal, and there took lodgings, from whence they walked
every day on foot to dinner, and back again at night, with horrible toil
and inconvenience; and procured the captain's wife to diet them with
the Colonel, where they had meat good enough, but, through the
poverty of the people, and their want of all necessaries, and the faculty
to order things as they should be, it was very inconvenient to them.
Yet, the Colonel endured it so cheerfully that he was never more plea-
sant and contented in his life. His wife bore all her own toils joyfully
enough for the love of him, but could not but be very sad at the sight
of his undeserved sufferings; and he would very sweetly and kindly
chide her for it, and tell her, that if she were but cheerful, he should think
this suffering the happiest thing that ever befell him.” On the 3d of
September, Mrs. Hutchinson being gone to Owthorpe, to fetch her chil-
dren, the Colonel was seized with the ague which carried him off. His
wife had left him “with a very sad and ill-presaging heart:” she return-
ed only to see his corpse, and to receive through his brother his dying
message: “Let her, as she is above other women, show herself on this
occasion a good Christian, and above the pitch of ordinary women.”
He expired on Lord’s-day evening, Sept. 11, 1664, and was buried at
Owthorpe ; being, to use Mrs. Hutchinson’s words, “brought home
with honour to his grave through the dominions of his murderers, who
were ashamed of his glories, which all their tyrannies could not
extinguish with his life.”
Of her feelings on this trying occasion, Mrs. Hutchinson observes
a silence which speaks more loudly than the most impassioned lan-
guage. Here closes the record, nor is it known how long she survived
this overwhelming calamity. The Owthorpe estate she sold, with the
concurrence of her eldest son, to Charles Hutchinson, Esq., a half-
brother of the Colonel’s ; but there is reason to believe, that, after sell-
ing the estates, the sum to be divided left each member of the family
in straitened circumstances. Colonel Hutchinson left four sons,
of whom the youngest only, John, left issue two sons. One of these
emigrated to America, where his descendants yet venerate the me-
mory of their great ancestor. The other is said to have gone out as
commander of a ship of war given by Queen Anne to the Czar Peter,
and to have been lost at sea. Of the four daughters who also survived
Colonel Hutchinson, the youngest lies buried at Owthorpe, in the same
vault with her father, whom probably she soon followed to the grave.
Little more is known of her sisters, than that one, to whom Mrs.
Hutchinson addressed one of her books of devotion, married a gentle-
man of the name of Orgll.
The “Memoirs of Colonel Hutchinson” have raised his biographer
to a high niche among the literary and moral ornaments of her country.
The eminent qualities of heart and mind which are displayed in that
work, have won the admiration of the public, notwithstanding what
many persons regard as the puritanic cast of her piety. In her reli-
39
306 MEMOIRS OF
gious writings,” the same qualities are not less conspicuous, united
with a degree of acquaintance with the learning then most in vogue,
reputable to a scholar, and distinguishing in a female, together with a
considerable superiority to the prejudices of the times. Those which
have been published by the editor of the “Memoirs,” are, a tract “On
the Principles of Religion,” addressed to her daughter, Mrs. Orgill;
and one “On Theology,” composed apparently for her own improve-
ment, and, it is conjectured, at an earlier period of her life. The latter
is the more laboured and scholastic of the two, abounding with learned
references to the Greek and Roman classics, and to Jewish as well as
Christian writers; but it is less practical than the other, and though it
contains abundant proofs of the author’s intuitive good sense, and
many very striking passages, is less generally interesting. The former
treatise displays all the simplicity, genuine humility, liberality, and ex-
alted piety of the writer’s character. Some extracts from this work will
form the most appropriate conclusion to the present memoir.
In the dedication to her daughter, Mrs. Hutchinson thus states her
design in the work.
“If any attempts have been made to shake you in principles, I be-
wail it as my neglect offixing them by precept and example, and have
written this little summary for you ; not that I think it is any thing
but what you may, more methodically collected, find in many books
already written, and as usefully gather for yourself out of the same
spiritual garden where I had them ; but that it may lie by you as a
witness of those sound truths I desired to instruct you in, and, as my
last exhortation, that you take heed you be not seduced to factions and
parties in religion, from that catholic faith and universal love, wherein
all that are true Christians must unite.
“There never was a time when the truth was more clouded with
the mists of error, than at this day; so that it is very difficult for young
converts not to be infected with some of them ; all the old ones, against
which the Church of God in and immediately after Christ’s time so
powerfully contended, being renewed in our days, and many new stalks
growing upon every old poisonous root, the broachers and sect-masters
coming, many of them, forth in the appearance of angels of light. And
it is Satan’s policy at this day, when the gilded baits of the world and
the sweet allurements of the flesh will not prevail, then to tempt with
a wrested scripture, as he dealt even with Christ himself; and if some
one opinion draw men into a sect, for that they espouse all the erro-
neous practices and opinions of that sect, and reject the benefit they
might have by spiritual converse with Christians of other judgments;
at least receive nothing from them without it pass the verdict of that
sect they incline to. But I must, having been very much exercised
concerning this thing, hold forth to you the testimony that I have re-
ceived of God, whether you will receive it from me or not. Sects are
a great sin, and Christians ought all to live in the unity of the
Spirit ; and though it cannot be but that offences will come in the
Church, yet, wo be to them by whom they come....... Love is the
. “On the Principles of the Christian Religion; and, On Theology. By Mrs. Lucy Hut
chinson.” 8vo. London, 1817.
\
MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 307
bond of perfectness, and they that break the communion of saints, walk
not charitably, and will be highly accountable to God for it. Those
that make divisions, and those that follow dividing seducers, keep not
close to the indisputable precept of Christ. In his name, therefore, I
beg of you to study and exercise universal love to every member of
Christ, under what denomination soever you find them.
# * * * * * * * * * *
“You may, perhaps, when you have read these common principles
and grounds which I have here collected for you, think I might have
spared my pains, and sent you a twopenny catechism, which contains
the substance of all this ; and it is true, here is nothing but what in
substance you will find in every catechism. But though we ought to
be taught these things the first that we are taught, yet they will hold
us learning all our lives, and at every review we shall find our under-
standing grow in them. The want of having these grounds well laid,
is the cause of so many wavering and falling into various sects. . . . . . . .
The Apostle reproaches the weakness of our sex more than the other,
when, speaking of the prevalency of seducers, he says, “ They lead
about silly women, who are ever learning, and never able to come to
the knowledge of the truth.” Therefore, every wise and holy woman
ought to watch strictly over herself, that she become not one of these.
But, as our sex, through ignorance and weakness of judgment,(which
in the most knowing women is inferior to the masculine understanding
of men,) are apt to entertain fancies, and pertinacious in them, so we
ought to watch over ourselves in such a day as this, and to embrace
nothing rashly ; but, as our own imbecility is made known to us, to
take heed of presumption in ourselves, and to lean by faith on the
strength of the Lord, and beg his protection, that we may not be led
into error . . . . . . I have had many distractions in spirit and interrup-
tions in setting down these things, which I send you as a testimony of
my best and most tender love to you, who cannot consider the age and
temptations you are cast upon, without great thoughts of heart and
earnest prayers for you many times when you sleep, and dream not of
the spiritual loving care I have for you. *
“It is life, not notion, that God requires. If you live in your first light,
God will enlarge it, and give you eternal light and life in our Lord
Jesus, which is the most fervent prayer of your truly affectionate mother.”
We shall give two extracts from the body of the work; one on the
love of God, the other on the fear of God.
“As faith apprehends God to be the chiefest good, and not only so
in himself, but our sovereign and only felicity, we cannot so believe
but our souls must love him above all, and long after him, and seek
their supreme joy in the fruition of him ; which since we can no way
arrive to but by Christ, hence he becomes the chiefest of ten thousand
to our poor souls, exceeding precious, excellent, and admirable, far
above all that the tongues of men and angels can express him.
“All men pretend a love to God, but there are few in whom it is
sincere. Therefore, to discern our love, I shall only here insert a few
notes of true love :
“1. None truly love God, but those who love God only : they that
let any creatures share their heart with God, deceive themselves, and
give God none of it.
308 MEMOIRS OF
“2. As God is to be loved only, so he is to be loved constantly; as
well when he strikes as when he strokes; as well when he takes as
when he gives. Whom Christ loved, he loved to the end; and they
that love Christ, love him to the end.
“3. He that truly loves God, loves him for himself, more than for
the good he expects from him.
“4. He that loves God, loves all things that are his as his, and those
most that have most impression of his holiness.
“5. He that loves God, loves all those that love him, and delights
in their conversation, especially when they contend in the praises of
God, and endeavour to magnify his name.
“6. The love of God makes true believers to love all his ordinances,
to love his word, and the messengers of it.
“7. Further, the love of God makes a true believer to love all his
dispensations, even his chastisements, so far as they are destructive to
that sin which hath procured them.
“8. Again, the love of God makes believers love his interest, and
be willing to part with all things that are dear to them for the advance-
ment of his glory.
“9. The love of God makes true believers to hate all things that are
contrary to his holiness, even in themselves and their most beloved
relations.
“10. He that truly loves God, delights to meditate of him, and to
discourse of him, and to hear the mention of his name, and is weary
of that conversation where God is seldom, slightly, or never remem-
bered. Do we not see that even in creature loves, whatever the heart
is set on, men take all occasions to admire it, to consult how to attain
the enjoyment of it, and delight to hear the object of their love praised
and commended by others; love those that love it, and hate those that
hate it, and use all endeavours to make others admire and love what
they do | And are we not ashamed to pretend to the love of God,
when a little discourse of him is tedious to us; when those that hate
the mention of him, whose mouths are full of lies and vanity, whose
hearts are full of the world, and whose conversations savour nothing of
God, are our beloved and delightful companions This is a sore evil,
and deserves a deep consideration and reflection. Even the saints them-
selves, in their conferences of God at this day, are rather fortifying each
other in particular opinions that they affect, than magnifying the name
of God for his excellency and his wonders manifested to the sons of
men in his great works of creation, providence, redemption, sanctifica-
tion. Who declares to each other the goodness of God daily exercised
to their souls, and calls on their friends and neighbours to bless the Lord
with them and for them 4 Ah, we live in such a world, that a true
lover of God cannot do it, without casting pearls before swine that would
turn and rend them; and therefore are fain almost in all company to
keep silence, or else have their hearts disturbed from the contemplation
of . dear object of their souls, and led astray in the wilderness of the
WOTIOI. tº
The other passage occurs in speaking of the slavish fear of God felt
by the wicked.
“This fear, bondage, and terror, believers and true worshippers of God
are delivered from, through the redemption that is in Christ; but that
MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 309
gentle curb which the love of God puts, as a bridle, on our wild affec-
tions, is the delight of the saints, who count the service of God perfect
freedom. These are affected with a reverential, filial awe in his presence.
They dread his displeasure more than hell, and seek his face and fa-
vour more than heaven. Heaven would not be heaven to a true child
of God, if God were not there in his grace and favour; and were it
possible there could be a hell where God’s favour could be enjoyed, a true
lover of God would choose it before paradise without him. But God
cannot be separated from heaven: he is the heaven of heaven; and
where he is present in grace and favour, there is no hell in the great-
est tortures imaginable. This made Lawrence’s gridiron a bed of roses.
This made the stones that were hurled at Stephen, only to beat away
the gross air from about him, and bring the glorious heaven into his
view, with the sight of which he was so ecstasied, he felt not the pain
of the strokes. This reverential fear begets a holy care and watch in
the soul, suspecting and crying out to God to keep his citadel there, at
every small motion and appearance of the enemy, in any suggestion or
any rising mist. 'Tis a holy frame of spirit that keeps us always in a
reverent awe and dread of the majesty of God, and in an humble pos-
ture of soul before him, yet cuts not off, but aggravates our delight in
him, our joy and our singing before him : it is our wall of defence, and
not our prison ; our badge of honour, and not our chain of bondage;
herein our love is exercised; and this is one of God’s sweet embracings,
whereby he holds in our souls, and keeps them close to him. He that
fears not God, loves him not ; as ’tis to be suspected too many do, that
unreverently approach his throne in all their filthy pollutions, and dread
not to come soundecently into his presence.”
M. R. S. E V E L Y N.
MRs. EvelyN, the lady of John Evelyn, Esq., distinguished as the
author of “Sylva,” was the daughter of Sir Richard Browne, Bart.,
ambassador from King Charles I. and Charles II. to the court of
France. She was married to Mr. Evelyn, June 27, 1647, when only
in her fourteenth year, but continued to reside for some time at Paris
under the care of her excellent parents, her husband being called by
his affairs to England. At length, in 1652, on Mr. Evelyn’s taking up
his residence at Say’s Court, Deptford, Mrs. Evelyn came to England,
accompanied with her mother, Lady Browne. In that mansion they
resided for forty years, during which Mrs. Evelyn became the mother
of several children; and, in 1694, removed to Wotton in Surrey, the
seat of the family, where Mr. Evelyn expired Feb. 27, 1705, in the
eighty-fifth year of his age. His lady survived him only four years,
dying at Wotton, in Feb. 1709, in her seventy-fourth year. She
was buried, pursuant to the directions of her will, near her husband ;
“whose love and friendship,” she says, “I was happy in fifty-eight
years nine months, but by God’s providence left a disconsolate widow,
in the seventy-first of my age. His care of my education was such as
might become a father, a lover, a friend, and husband, for instruction,
tenderness, affection, and fidelity to the last moment of his life; which
obligation I mention with a gratitude to his memory, ever dear to me;
and I must not omit to own the sense I have of my parents’ care and
goodness in placing me in such worthy hands.”
The following “Character” of this excellent lady was drawn up by
the Rev. Dr. Ralph Bohun, and is given in the Evelyn Memoirs, edited
by William Bray, Esq.”
“I had occasion lately to review several letters to me from Mrs.
Evelyn, of Deptford. After reading them, I found they were much
to be valued, because they contained not only a complete description of
the private events of the family, but public transactions of the times,
where are many curious and memorable things described in an easy
and eloquent style.
“Many forgotten circumstances by this means are recalled afresh to
my memory: by so full and perfect a narration of them, they are again
present to my thoughts, and I see them reacted as it were before my
eyes. This made strong impressions on my mind, so that I could not
rest till I had recollected the substance of them, and from thence some
general reflections thereon, and from thence drew a character of the
author, so far only as by plain and natural inferences may be gathered
from their contents. In this short model, Mrs. Evelyn will appear to
be the best daughter and wife, the most tender mother, and desirable
neighbour and friend, in all parts of her life. The historical account
* Memoirs illustrative of the life and Writings of John Evelyn, Esq. F.R.S. &c. Edited
by William Bray, Esq. F.A.S. 2 vols, 4to. London, 1819.
MRS. EWELYN. 311
of matters of fact sufficiently set forth her praises, wherein there could
be no error or self-conceit, and declare her to be an exact pattern of
many excellent virtues; but they are concealed in such modest expres-
sions, that the most envious censurers cannot fix upon her the least
suspicion of vanity or pride.
“Though she had many advantages of birth, and beauty, and wit,
yet you may perceive in her writings an humble indifference to all
worldly enjoyments, great charity, and compassion to those who had
disobliged her, and no memory of past occurrences, unless it were a
grateful acknowledgment of some friendly office : a vein of good nature,
and resignation, and self-denial, runs through them all. There’s no-
thing so despised in many of these letters, as the fruitless-and empty
vanities of the town ; and they seem to pity the misfortune of those
who are condemned by their greater quality or station, to squander
away their precious time in unprofitable diversions, or bestow it in
courtly visits and conversations. Where there happens to be any men-
tion of children or friends, there is such an air of sincerity and benevo-
lence for the one, and religious concern for the happiness of the other,
as if she had no other design to live in the world, than to perform her
own duty, and promote the welfare of her relations and acquaintance.
There is another observation to be collected, not less remarkable than
the rest, which is her indefatigable industry in employing herself, and
more for the sake of others than her own. This she wrote, not out of
vain glory, or to procure commendation, but to entertain them with
whom she had a familiar correspondence by letters, with the relation
of such accidents or business wherein she was engaged for the month
or week past.
“This was a peculiar felicity in her way of writing, that, though
she often treated of vulgar and domestic subjects, she never suffered
her style to languish or flag, but by some new remark or pleasant
digression, kept it up to its usual pitch.
“The reproofs in any of these numerous letters were so softly
insinuated, that the greatest punishment to be inflicted upon any dis-
obligation, was only to have the contrary virtue to the fault they had
been guilty of highly applauded in the next correspondence, which
was ever so managed as to please and improve.
“Scarce a harsh expression, much less any evil surmise or suspicion,
could be admitted, where every line was devoted to charity and good-
ness. This is no effect of partiality, but appears in the particular in-
stances, so that the same judgment must be made by all unprejudiced
persons who shall have a sight of them.
“Any misfortune or disappointment was not mournfully lamented,
but related in such a manner as became a mind that had laid in a suf-
ficient provision of courage and patience beforehand to support it under
afflictions. All unfortunate accidents are allayed by some consolatory
argument taken from solid principles. No kind of trouble but one
seems to interrupt the constant intention to entertain and oblige; but
that is dolorously represented in many of the letters, which is the loss
of children or friends. That being an irreparable separation in this
world, is deplored with the most affectionate tenderness which words
can express. You may conclude that they who write in such a manner
as this, must be supposed to have a just sense of religion, because there
312 MEMOIRS OF
can scarce be assigned one act of a beneficent and charitable temper, but
has many texts of the gospel to enforce it, so that all good Christians
must be very useful and excellent neighbours and friends, which made
this lady ever esteemed so. She was the delight of all the conversations
where she appeared; she was loved and admired, yet never envied by
any, not so much as by the women. This happiness was gained and
preserved by one wise qualification; for, though no person living had
a closer insight into the humours or characters of persons, or could dis-
tinguish their merits more nicely, yet she never made any despising or
censorious reflections: her great discernment and wit were never abused
to sully the reputation of others, nor affected any applause that might be
gained by satirical jests. Though she was extremely valued, and her
friendship prized and sought for by them of the highest condition, yet she
ever treated those of the lowest with great condescension and humanity.”
It is to be regretted, that the letters of Mrs. Evelyn, above referred
to, have not been preserved. Copies of a few of her letters have been
found at Wotton ; but as they do not bear, for the most part, on reli-
gious subjects, they would not come within the design of this work.
Mrs. Evelyn's ideas of letter-writing may be gathered from her own
words: “I wonder,” she says, “at nothing more than at the ambition of
printing letters; since if the design be to produce wit and learning,
there is too little scope for the one, and the other may be reduced to a
less compass than a sheet of gilt paper, unless truth were more commu-
nicative. Without this declaration, I hope I am sufficiently secure ne-
ver to run the hazard of being censured that way, since I cannot suspect
my friends of so much unkindness, nor myself of the vanity to wish
fame on so doubtful a foundation as the caprice of mankind.”
In a subsequent letter, her modesty and good sense are unaffectedly
displayed in the apology she makes to Dr. Bohun for her silence as a cor-
respondent.
“Should I confess the real cause, it is your expectation of extraor-
dinary notions of things wholly out of my way. Women were not
born to read authors, and censure the learned, to compare lives, and
judge of virtues, to give rules of morality, and sacrifice to the muses.
We are willing to acknowledge all time borrowed from family duties is
mis-spent: the care of children’s education, observing a husband’s com-
mands, assisting the sick, relieving the poor, and being serviceable to
our friends, are of sufficient weight to employ the most improved capa-
cities amongst us. If sometimes it happens by accident that one of a
thousand aspires a little higher, her fate commonly exposes her to won-
der, but adds little to esteem. The distaff will defend our quarrels as
well as the sword, and the needle is as instructive as the pen. A he-
roine is a kind of prodigy: the influence of a blazing star is not more
dangerous or more avoided. Though I have lived under the roof of
the learned, and in the neighbourhood of science, it has had no other
effect on such a temper as mine, but that of admiration, and that too but
when it is reduced to practice.”
In 1685, Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn sustained a very heavy affliction in the
loss of their accomplished daughter, Mary, who died of the small-pox
in the nineteenth year of her age. To this calamitous event, Mrs.
Evelyn adverts in the following letter to her cousin, Lady Tuke.
“How to express the sorrow for parting with so dear a child is a dif-
MRS. EWELYN. 313
ficult task. . She was welcome to me from the first moment God gave
her, acceptable through the whole course of her life by a thousand en-
dearments, by the gifts of nature, by acquired parts, by the tender love
she ever showed her father and me: a thread of piety accompanied all
her actions, and now proves our greatest consolation. The patience,
resignation, humility of her carriage in so severe and fatal a disease,
discovered more than an ordinary assistance of the divine goodness;
never expressing fear of death, or a desire to live, but for her friends’
sake. The seventh day of her illness, she discoursed to me in par.
ticular as calmly as in health, desired to confess, and receive the bless-
ed sacrament, which she performed with great devotion; after which,
though in her perfect senses to the last, she never signified the least
concern for the world, prayed often, and resigned her soul. What shall
I say ? She was too great a blessing for me, who never deserved any
thing, much less such a jewel........ The papers which are found in her
cabinet, discover she profited by her reading—such reflections, collec-
tions out of Scripture, confessions, meditations, and pious notions, evi-
dence her time was not spent in the trifling way of most young women,
I acknowledge, as a Christian I ought not to murmur, and I should be
infinitely sorry to incur God’s further displeasure. There are those yet
remaining that challenge my care; and for their sakes I endeavour
to submit all I can.”
In the phraseology of this and other letters, the reader may observe a
somewhat different style of expression from that which occurs in the
writings of persons accustomed from infancy to hear the doctrines of
the Reformation clearly and faithfully preached. Mr. Evelyn’s most
intimate friend and spiritual guide, was Dr. (afterwards Bp.) Jeremy
Taylor, whose theology was not wholly untinctured with the Romish
leaven. Of the solid piety of Mrs. Evelyn, there is no room to enter-
tain any doubt. Her life was most exemplary, and the piety of her
children bears testimony to the care which was taken by both her and
Mr. Evelyn to bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the
Lord. Some further interesting particulars relative to the character
of the accomplished young lady to whose death the above letter refers.
will form an acceptable sequel to this memoir.
“The justness of her stature, person, comeliness of countenance,
gracefulness of motion, unaffected, though more than ordinarily beauti-
ful, were,” says Mr. Evelyn in his Diary, “the least of her ornaments,
compared with those of her mind. Of early piety, singularly religious,
spending a part of every day in private devotion, reading, and other
virtuous exercises; she had collected and written out many of the most
useful and judicious periods of the books she read, in a kind of common
place, as out of Dr. Hammond on the New Testament, and most of the
best practical treatises. She had read and digested a considerable deal
of history, and of places. The French tongue was as familiar to her
as English ; she understood Italian; and was able to render a laudable
account of what she read or observed, to which assisted a most faithful
memory and discernment; and she did make very prudent and discreet
reflections upon what she had observed of the conversations among
which she had at any time been, which being continually of persons of
the best quality, she thereby improved. What shall I say, or rather not
40
314 MEMOIRS OF
say, of the cheerfulness and agreableness of her humour ! Condescend-
Ing to the meanest servant of the family, or others, she still kept up
respect, without the least pride. She would often read to them, exa-
mine, instruct, and pray with them if they were sick, so as she was
exceedingly beloved of every body. Piety was so prevalent an ingre-
dient in her constitution, as I may say, that even among equals and
superiors she no sooner became intimately acquainted, but she would
endeavour to improve them, by insinuating something of religious, and
that tended to bring them to a love of devotion. She had one or two
confidants, with whom she used to pass whole days in fasting, and read-
ing, and prayers, especially before the monthly communion and other
solemn occasions.
“She abhorred flattery; and though she had abundance of wit, the
raillery was so innocent and ingenious, that it was most agreeable......
No one could read prose or verse better or with more judgment; and
as she read, so she writ not only most correct orthography, but with that
maturity of judgment and exactness of the periods, choice of expressions,
and familiarity of style, that some letters of hers have astonished me
and others to whom she has occasionally written. Nothing affected,
but natural and easy, as well in her deportment as in her discourse,
which was always material, not trifling, add to which the extraordinary
sweetness of her tone, even in familiar speaking, was very charming.
Nothing was so pretty as her descending to play with little children,
whom she would caress and humour with great delight. But she most
affected to be with grave and sober men, of whom she might learn
something, and improve herself. I have been assisted by her in reading
and praying by me : comprehensive of uncommon notions, curious of
knowing every thing to some excess, had I not sometimes repressed it,
nothing was so delightful to her as to go into my study, where she
would willingly have spent whole days; for, as I said, she had read
abundance of history, and all the best poets, even Terence, Plautus,
Homer, Virgil, Horace, Ovid. She could compose happily, and put in
pretty symbols. But all these are vain trifles to the virtues which
adorned her soul. She was sincerely religious, most dutiful to her parents,
whom she loved with an affection tempered with great esteem, so that
we were easy and free, and never were so well pleased as when she
was with us ; nor needed we other conversation. See was kind to her
sisters, and was still improving them by her constant course of piety.
Oh, dear, sweet, and desirable child, how shall I part with all this good-
ness and virtue, without the bitterness of sorrow and reluctancy of a
tender parent “ Thy affection, duty, and love to me was that of a
friend as well as child. Nor less dear to thy mother, whose example
and tender care of thee was unparalleled; nor was thy return to her less
conspicuous. Oh, how she mourns thy loss How desolate hast thou
left us! To the grave shall we both carry thy memory.
“God alone (in whose bosom thou art at rest and happy () give us to
resign thee and all our contentments (for thou indeed wert all in this
world) to his blessed pleasure | Let him be glorified by our submission,
and give us grace to bless him for the graces he implanted in thee, thy
virtuous life, pious and holy death, which is indeed the only comfort of
our souls, hastening through the infinite love and mercy of the Lord
*
* MRS. EWELYN. 315
Jesus to be shortly with thee, dear child, and with thee and those bless-
ed saints like thee, glorify the Redeemer of the world to all eternity.
Amen
“It was in the nineteenth year of her age that this sickness happened
to her. An accident contributed to this disease. She had an appre-
hension of it in particular, and which struck her but two days before
she came home, by an imprudent gentlewoman whom she went with
Lady Falkland to visit, who, after they had been a good while in the
house, told them she had a servant sick of the small pox—who indeed
died the next day : this, my poor child acknowledged, made an impres-
sion on her spirits. There were four gentlemen of quality offering to
treat with me about marriage, and I freely gave her her own choice,
knowing her discretion. She showed great indifference to marrying at
all; ‘for truly,” says she to her mother the other day, “were I assured of
your life and my dear father’s, never would I part from you. I love you
and this home, where we serve God, above all things, nor ever shall I be
so happy. I know and consider the vicissitudes of the world; I have
some experience of its vanities; and but for decency more than inclina-
tion, and that you judge it expedient for me, I would not change my
condition, but rather add the fortune you design me to my sisters, and
keep up the reputation of our family.” This was so discreetly and sin-
cerely uttered, that it could not but proceed from an extraordinary child,
and one who loved her parents beyond example.
“On looking into her closet, it is incredible what a number of collec-
tions she had made from historians, poets, travellers, &c. but above all,
devotions, contemplations, and resolutions on these contemplations,
found under her hand in a book most methodically disposed; prayers,
meditations, and devotions on particular occasions, with many pretty let-
ters to her confidants; one to a divine, (not named,) to whom she writes
that he would be her ghostly father, and would not despise her for her
many errors and the imperfections of her youth, but beg of God to
give her courage to acquaint him with all her faults, imploring his as-
sistance and spiritual directions. I well remember she had often desir-
ed me to recommend her to such a person, but I did not think fit to do
it as yet, seeing her apt to be scrupulous, and knowing the great inno-
cency and integrity of her life.
“It is astonishing how one who had acquired such substantial and
practical knowledge in other ornamental parts of education, especially
music both vocal and instrumental, in dancing, paying and receiving
visits, and necessary conversation, could accomplish half of what she
has left; but, as she never affected play or cards, which consume a
world of precious time, so she was in continual exercise, which yet aba-
ted nothing of her most agreeable conversation. But she was a little
miracle while she lived, and so she died 1
“Divers noble persons honoured her funeral, some in person, others
sending their coaches, of which there were six or seven with six horses,
viz. the Countess of Sunderland, Earl of Clarendon, Lord Godolphin,
Sir Stephen Fox, Sir William Godolphin, Wiscount Falkland, and
others........ Thus lived, died, and was buried the joy of my life, and or-
nament of her sex and of my poor family God Almighty of his in-
finite mercy grant me the grace thankfully to resign myself and all I
have, or had, to his divine pleasure; and, in his good time restoring
316 MEMOIRs of MRs. EveLYN.
health.and comfort to my family, “teach me so to number my days,
that I may apply my heart to wisdom,” be prepared for my dissolution;
and that into the hands of my blessed Saviour I may recommend my
Spirit I Amen P”
* Evelyn Memoirs. Vol. i. pp. 588–594.
M. R. S. S A R A H S A.V. A. G. E.
MRs. SARAH SAVAGE, the eldest daughter of that eminent servant of
Christ, the Rev. Philip Henry, and sister of Matthew Henry, the
Author of the Family Commentary on the Bible, was born at Broad
Oak, in Flintshire, Aug. 7, 1664. She was the eldest of four daugh-
ters. Of two of her sisters, Mrs. Radford and Mrs. Hulton, memorials
have been preserved, which exhibit them as equally worthy of their
truly honourable parentage and kindred. The character of the other
sister, Mrs. Tylston, was not less estimable. Particular attention appears
to have been paid to the education of Mrs. Savage. At the early age
of seven years, she had made such proficiency in the Hebrew language,
by the aid of a grammar which her father compiled for her use, that
she could readily read and construe a psalm in the original. At ten
years of age, she used to write the outlines of the sermons which she
heard preached, with tolerable exactness. She mentions in her Diary,
that she afterwards read these sermons with great comfort and edifica-
tion at the distant period of sixty years. This custom she continued to
old age, and many volumes are still extant of the sermons which she
took down ; besides which she preserved in writing her honoured fa-
ther's stated expositions in the family, and used them, through life, in
her private perusal of the Scriptures. On reviewing, when seventy
years of age, this period of her life, she thus expresses her gratitude to
God, for the pre-eminent religious advantages which she enjoyed.
“My great Creator and Benefactor endued me with understanding,
reason, a capacity to learn; but Infinite Goodness gave me early advan-
tages by religious parents, such as, I am ready to think, the whole world
can hardly produce the like. I was betimes taught my catechism and
other things proper for my age. I had excellent examples. Religion
was set before me in the clearest and best light. Secured, by privacy,
from so much as seeing the corruptions the world abounds with, for the
first twenty years of my life, I do not remember to have heard an oath,
or to have seen a person drunk. But still, this was but negative reli-
gion. The free grace of God, in infinite mercy, took early hold of me,
and brought me to feel something of the powers of the world to come.”
In her sixteenth year, Miss Henry partook, for the first time, of the
Lord's Supper; and on that occasion, she devoted herself to God with
a sincerity and solemnity which proved a source of satisfaction to her
in the retrospect. Henceforth, her papers discover an increasing anx-
iety that, by departing from all iniquity, she might adorn her Christian
profession, and walkworthy of the Gospel of Christ. A few years after
making this public profession, she commenced that series of closet com-
positions to which her Biographer has been chiefly indebted in compil-
ing her Memoirs.” The following extract from her papers, will show
the views and feelings with which she adopted this resofution.
* “Memoirs of the Life and Character of Mrs. Sarah Savage, &c. By I. B. Williams.”
12mo, London, 1821.
318 MEMOIRS OF
“Aug. 1686. I have had it in my thoughts to do something in the
nature of a Diary, being encouraged by the advantages others have
gained thereby, and the hope that I might be furthered by it in a godly
life, and be more watchful over the frame of my heart when it must be
kept on record. I would approve myself to God, who alone knows
the sincerity of my heart. To him I have made my request known
herein; and I heartily beg that what I shall at any time put down,
may be the true workings of my heart, and that I may in nothing
bear false witness against myself.”
The fear of self-deception here intimated, shows that the writer was
well aware both of the deceitfulness of the heart in general, and of the
abuse to which the practice referred to is liable. Diaries of religious
feelings were much more common in those days then they are now.
They have of late fallen into some disrepute, from the injudicious pub-
lication of too many private records of the kind, which were not fit for
the public eye. The minuteness with which sometimes unimportant cir-
cumstances are detailed in them, has, in print, a ridiculous effect; and
there is always danger lest the writer should mistake mere sentiment
for the genuine operation of feeling, and “put down” the workings of
the head as the record of the heart’s emotions. Yet, when properly
conducted, such a memorial is adapted to be eminently conducive to
self-knowledge and self-improvement. It secures the habit of retire-
ment, and the practice of self-examination ; and is especially useful,
as keeping alive an observant remembrance of the dealings of Divine
Providence.
The following year, (March 28, 1687,) Miss Henry was married to
Mr. John Savage, a respectable farmer and land-agent, of Wrenbury
Wood, near Nantwich, Cheshire. Her notice of the annual return of
that day, evinces the satisfaction and gratitude with which she looked
back on the event. She was not “unequally yoked.” She and her
husband made it their constant practice to pray with each other morn-
ing and evening, besides engaging in family and private devotion.
Providence continued them long together, not less than forty years,
blessings to each other and to all around them, so far as their influence
and ability extended.
Mrs. Savage was the mother of nine children, but four daughters
only survived her. She was remarkable for her care and tenderness
towards her children in their infancy, but still more for the concern
which she manifested for their souls, as they grew up, and became ca-
pable of receiving instruction. Not only was a considerable part of the
Sabbath evenings devoted to the important duty of instructing them,
but it was her daily endeavour, both by precept and example, to train
them in the way wherein they ought to go. She had a happy method
of rendering religion interesting to young people by encouraging them
to ask questions, and to converse freely on the subject; and she was
careful not to represent it in a forbidding light, by any thing harsh or
severe in her manners or temper. To these means of improving their
minds, she daily added the most affectionate prayers both with them
and for them. Many instances might be adduced of her pious care
over them, both in the serious advice which she gave them, and in the
letters which she wrote to them when abroad. Whenever she saw it
needful to give them reproof, it was always done in a manner which
MRS. SAWAGE. 319
showed that she had nothing in view but their real welfare. Her
Diary abounds with expressions of concern for their spiritual welfare.
For that of her domestics, also, she cherished a holy zeal, which dis-
covered itself in her regular and patient efforts to instruct them. She
thus writes soon after her marriage: “Oh,that the family might be the
better for me! As far as I know my own heart, I earnestly desire the
salvation of every soul under our roof. Oh, that they did but see
what I see of the excellency of Christ, the sinfulness of sin, and the
vanity of creatures ſ”
Although Mrs. Savage was constant in her retirements morning and
evening, and, in the latter part of her life, at noon also, yet, she never
suffered these religious exercises to interfere with her domestic duties.
She attended diligently, says her Biographer, to the routine of the
kitchen and the dairy, the market and the fair. “Conscientious wait-
ing upon God,” it is stated in the funeral sermon preached on occasion
of her death, “neither prevented her discharging her duty to those
who were about her, nor hurried her to the neglect of her temporal
concerns. So remarkable was her diligence in her family, that, ex-
cepting the portion of time which she consecrated to God, it is said of
her by one that observed and knew her well for forty years, that she
was not idle or unemployed, no, not for a moment. She very well un-
derstood and knew that her duty to God did by no means oblige her to
neglect the duties of a wife, a mother, or a mistress. When out of the
more immediate service of God, she was constantly discharging these.
Religion is no friend to sloth, confusion, or indolence.” She habitually
rose early, was a great economist of time, and, during the last years of
her life, usually kept the Bible by her while at work, that she might
employ her mind in religious meditation on particular portions of the
word of God. By these means, she found time for works of charity
and benevolence. “The pleasure with which she gave alms, or did
any other good office to the poor or distressed,” we are told, “is not to .
be described. She willingly employed herself in making garments for
their clothing. She always spoke of the plenty of a farm-house as one
of the chief advantages of her station, in that it allowed her greater
opportunities of supplying the wants of the poor, and feeding the hun-
gry, which she always did with her own hands.” Her own language
on this subject will show the truly Christian principle by which she
was actuated. “I find,” she says, “the duty of giving hard to ma-
nage aright; to keep the eye single. I find it much easier to draw
out the hand to the hungry, than to draw forth the soul in inward
compassion. Oh, this inside of duty is that which I find so very hard.”
In the year 1721, Mr. and Mrs. Savage were visited with a pecu-
liarly sharp affliction, in the loss of their only son, who was cut off by
the small-pox in the twenty-second year of his age. The reality and
efficacy of her religious principles were now put to the trial, and they
stood the test. Her submission to the will of God, and her unshaken
confidence in the Divine goodness, are satisfactorily displayed in the
private record of her feelings at this period.
“ 1721, February 15. My dear Philip was seized with the fatal
distemper, the small-pox. . Many, many fervent prayers were put up
for him, both in closets and congregations; but on Monday, February
27th, between one and two o'clock, he breathed his last—the blessed
390 t MEMOIRS OF
spirit took wing, I trust, to the world of everlasting rest and joy. The
desire of our eyes—concerning whom we were ready to say, This son
shall comfort us. Once all our joy—now, all our tears. . Near 22 years
of age. O my dear Jonathan, thou art slain in the high places. He was
just beginning to appear in public business—sober, and pious. A true
lover of his friends, of whom he said on his death-bed, ‘I lay them
down as I do my body, in hope to meet again every way better.”—To
his father he said, “Farewell, my dear father, you won’t be long after
me.” One of the last words we could understand, was of that blessed
choir, that triumphant choir, to which, I verily believe, he is joined.
A sore breach this is to us. But, now God has done his work, let us
go and do ours, patiently and quietly lying down under the rod. It is
the Lord, let him do as seemeth him good. I have no murmuring thoughts.
Lord, thou shalt beat, and I will endeavour to bear. I do not think
the worse of God, or of prayer, for this dispensation; yet, sometimes,
I am much oppressed. I find that deceit lies in generals. How often
have I, in word and in tongue, given up and devoted my all—yoke-
fellow, children, estate—and all without mental reservation. And
now when God comes to try me in but one dear comfort, with what
difficulty can I part with him O this wicked heart | Shall I think
to keep back any thing when I have given all 2 By no means. Lord,
I am thine, and all I have, and all I can do. Though thou shouldest
strip me of all my children, and of all my comforts here, yet, if thou
give me thyself, and clear up to me my interest in the everlasting co-
venant, it is enough. That blessed covenant has enough in it to gild
the most gloomy dispensation of Providence. O, that we may hear
the Lord’s controversy He seems to speak in this providence as one
that will be heard. Lord, give me the hearing ear. The man of wis-
dom will hear. What says my Lord unto his servant 2—It is a great loss
to lose any children, especially such an one as this. Lord, do me good
by it, that I may keep the mean between despising the chastening, and
fainting under it. We have had a long series of health, peace, plenty.
We have not been emptied from vessel to vessel. We have lived too
easily, too happily, even to the envy of those about us; and now, God
sends this sharp and heavy affliction. I would get good by it, and be
brought nearer to Himself. Alas! how weak is my heart, how hard
to turn my tears into the right channel ! We have many sympathiz-
ing friends and letters, which to me are but as songs sung to a heavy
heart.” h |
“Blessed be God,” she says, a little further-on, “my dear child had no
bands in his death. He said, “Death is not bitter.’” She thus intro-
duces another of this excellent young man’s dying expressions, which
was not less remarkable: “It was one of my dear Philip's sayings,
when on his death-bed, ‘I can bear any thing from God’s immediate
hand’—Then why should not I ?” Her reply has been preserved, to
one of the many consolatory letters addressed to her on this melancholy
occasion. We transcribe part of it.
“Rev. and dear Sir,
“I do, as I well may, esteem it a great favour, that you would take
so much time from your other weighty employments to write to me a
mere stranger. But unacquaintedness with the face is no bar to the
communion of saints; and for all your kind expressions of a tender
MRS. SAWAGE. 321
sympathy, I return you a great many thanks. 'Tis a demonstration
that you are qualified, as a gospel minister should be, to bind up broken
hearts, and to speak a word in season to them that need it. It has
pleased our heavenly Father, in wisdom to chastise us, by taking away
the ‘desire of our eyes with a stroke;" yet I desire to justify him in all
his dealings. From his good hands nothing can come amiss. I can
see by what you write, that you can easily put your soul in my soul's
stead, and know somewhat of the heart of a sorrowful parent. I was
ready to say, This same shall comfort us, and that he would be serving
God on earth when we are silent in the dust; but Infinite Wisdom said
otherwise. And shall folly dispute 4 We were ready to think our
mountain stood strong; but alas! soon convinced of the contrary. I
would now make it my greatest care to improve the providence. To
lose such a dear child, and not be bettered by the affliction, doubles the
loss. You well observe that of David, I shall go to him—not only to
him to the grave, but to him to heaven, to be joined to that blessed choir
which he spoke of a few hours before his death. Though we are much
at a loss as to the particular meaning of this providence, yet, in general,
we are sure it is well. I have now one less tie to draw me downward,
and shall have so much less care in my dying moments.”
Mr. Savage survived his son little more than eight years. His re-
moval was sudden. His widow, now in her sixty-sixth year, thus gives
vent to her feelings under this afflicting bereavement.
“Saturday, Sept. 27th., A heavy stroke falls upon me, unexpectedly,
by the sudden death of my dear yoke-fellow, with whom I have lived
in great amity and affection, these forty-two years and six months.
Lord, what is man & He seemed pretty well in the morning, but com-
plaining of pain, I persuaded him to go to bed, which he no sooner had
done, but he expired without a sigh or groan. Alas! What—what is
this that God hath done unto us! O for wisdom and grace to improve
this sad providence He had almost completed his seventy-eighth year.
I will endeavour to lay my hand on my mouth. I have often told my
heavenly Father, that I will take nothing ill that he shall do with me.
Since I have his eye, his ear, and blessing, why should I not submit to
his rod P”
“Sabbath day, Sept. 28th. We kept a poor, cold, and sorrowful sabbath.
I sit alone and keep silence.”
“Tuesday, Sept. 30th. I am still desiring and endeavouring to im-
prove this affliction. I would meditate on the happiness of separate
spirits. He that was lately groaning (though that was seldom) is now,
I trust, singing and rejoicing, and would not be again with us. O glo-
rious hour ! Blessed exchange l’”
“Wednesday, Oct. 1st. We laid up the dear remains in comforta-
ble hope of a glorious resurrection. The sadness of my spirit makes
me almost stupid ; yet, in reflection, I will say—all is well. We are
parted for a time; yet, I trust, we shall be together for ever. Our
friends and neighbours mingle tears with us. He has long served his
generation, and is now gone to rest. A flood of cares falls on me, but
H cast all my care on my heavenly Father, who has cared for me hitherto,
and, I trust, will. I lack wisdom. I ask it. Lord, give—give liberally.
41
322 MEMOIRS OF
Do not upbraid. No, not with my folly. For the Lord God is a sun and
shield: the Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from
them that walk uprightly. A promise worth a king’s ransom. God’s
sovereignty should silence me, and his wisdom satisfy. It is well with
my husband. It is well. Jill is well that God doth. My time after him
is not likely to be long.”
After the death of her husband, Mrs. Savage did not long continue
to reside at Wrenbury Wood; but, after passing some time with her
daughter, the wife of the Rev. Mr. Holland, at Wem, she removed, in
the year 1736, to West Bromwick: where, in the society of another
married daughter, the wife of the Rev. Mr. Witton, minister of the
dissenting congregation at that place, she spent the residue of her days
in peaceful and diligent preparation for heaven. Adverting to the ad-
vanced period to which her days had been lengthened, she writes: “1738,
March 14. Oh that I may be some way useful even in old age | I am
willing to continue here while God pleases, but my settled judgment
is, to desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better. I see my
children’s children, and peace upon Israel.”
About this time, she was gratified with an unexpected visit from the
pious and learned Dr. Doddridge. “I have often,” she says, “been
pleased and edified by his books, but I never expected to have conversed
personally with him. I now find such a happy mixture of piety,
sweetness, and humility, as much affects me.”
It pleased God to extend the life of this venerable Christian to a very
advanced age. She survived her removal to West Bromwick between
fifteen and sixteen years, and expired, without any previous illness,
on the 27th of Feb.1752, in her eighty-eighth year. “She dropped
mortality,” says her niece, Miss Tylton, “without being herself sensible
of the change, till she found herself in the world of light, among the
number of the spirits made perfect ; the world to which she was allied,
and formed to the temper and disposition of. She had lived a holy,
cheerful life; made religion her business, her choice early; and she was
an ornament to her profession, through all the different scenes and
periods of it. She was useful, beloved, meek, humble, charitable. She
is gone to receive her reward, joined to the society she loved.”
Candour and moderation were conspicuous traits in the character of
this excellent woman. Firmly attached to the Presbyterian mode of
worship, a Protestant dissenter upon principle, as well as by education,
while she never shrunk from an avowal of her sentiments, she was
very far from cherishing a factious or schismatical spirit. She was in
the habit of statedly resorting to the parish church once on the Lord’s
day, while resident at Wrenbury Wood, there being no dissenting
meeting-house nearer than Nantwich, a distance of five miles. Her
papers contain frequent extracts from the Book of Common Prayer,
with special observation of many admirable petitions as suited to her
own circumstances. This happy combination of firmness and mode-
ration, of prudence and candour, is admirably displayed in a letter of
mild remonstrance addressed to a clergyman, occasioned by what ap-
pears to have been considered as a personal attack from the pulpit.
It does great credit to the party addressed, that the letter is said to
have produced its due effect. .*
MRS. SAWAGE. 323
“Dear Sir,
“I have long desired an opportunity of conversing with you, and I
know not how to excuse my doing thus, since you are so obliging and
easy of access, but only for privacy, especially as it becomes such as I
in silence to learn. Yet, we are also commanded to be ready to give
a reason of the hope that is in us, with meekness and fear. There-
fore, you will pardon my boldness in thus expressing my thoughts.
Women’s tongues and pens sometimes claim a freedom, which men,
who are more wise and reserved, will not use. It is (or may be
thought) our unhappiness to differ from the established church in
some lesser things, but, while we agree in fundamentals, why should
there be among us strife and envying 4
“The high charge we had yesterday from you, of devilish pride, arro-
gance, &c., I cannot account light, especially from one who should
stand in the place of God, to guide and direct us in the way to heaven,
I think it invidious to judge men’s hearts, which none but God can do.
It cannot be in itself sinful to dissent from the church, else why did
we cast off the yoke of Rome 7
“For my own part, I freely profess that I have seen so much sincere
piety, fervent charity, and humility practised in those I have joined
with, and found such solid peace and tranquillity in this way I have
walked in, that, I trust, I shall never be either allured or affrighted
from it. The name of schism (that ecclesiastical scare-crow) is indus-
triously, though falsely, thrown on-us, as I have seen proved. But if
it were true, who is in the fault'ſ The imposers of things, themselves
own to be unnecessary, or we who dare not comply with them, yet de-
sirous to sacrifice any thing to peace, but truth 1 I must say, as any
unprejudiced person will, that if the nonconformists are mistaken, they
are the most unhappy to exclude themselves from all that is desirable
in the world, and to expose themselves to poverty, scorn, and hatred.
I must do them that justice to tell you, I never remember to have heard
one public reflection from any of them upon the established church. I
need not here enter into the merits of their cause, which hath so many
better advocates; only Imust take the freedom to express my resentment
that we have, sometimes, from your pulpit, such keen reflections as we
cannot bear, and as, I am sure, do no real good to any one. The great
things of the Gospel—faith in Christ, repentance unto life, and new
obedience—these are enough to spend our zeal about ; as a worthy
person writes, our lives are short, our work great, our souls precious,
heaven and hell real things, and all that must be done for eternity must
be done quickly, or it will be too late. Therefore, I am always glad to
hear ministers insist on these great things. I was much affected, many
years ago, with a sermon, I wrote from you on those words—Purifying
to himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works. I wish you would
preach, and pray, as you did then; yet, good Sir, excuse my freedom in
thus giving vent to my thoughts. I think there is no family but ours
in the parish that are accounted dissenters; yet, you know, we are as
true friends to you, and the church, as any in the parish, perhaps more
than many who profess to be entire members of the church of England.
As many of our family attend the ministry as most, or any of the like
number ; and it is to me sad that we should be censured, and worse
thought of than them, than hundreds who absent themselves through
324 MEMOIRS OF
ignorance and carelessness. It is well we are not to be each other’s
judges. -
“Said my honoured father, when dying—“ Follow peace, and holi-
fiess, and let them say what they will.’ This has been my sincere
desire and endeavour. And I solemnly profess, I have not at all en-
deavoured to draw my children into the same way, otherwise than
what my example might do, though some of them have taken pains to
study those points, and are not presbyterians by chance, but of choice;
for I desire they may not pin their faith to my sleeve, but choose for
themselves, and, if they take this despised way, it is not because they
know no other, but because they know no better.
“I have heard divers complain that you speak so low, they can
scarce hear you ; but I observed yesterday, you could raise your voice.
If I had foreseen our treatment, I believe my place had been empty. I
know not how they will answer it, who beat their fellow-servants, and
cast stones instead of bread. I know not what the church would have :
they have all the profits, preferments, and advantages they can desire;
yet, because our governors take off the power to persecute, it avails
nothing. But I am quite too tedious, and I crave your pardon, Sir, a
thousand times, for my freedom with you. I truly respect your person
and ministry, and pray for its success. I am satisfied, you well know
the great value of all souls, and the danger of most. This thought
will quicken you to cry aloud, and show your hearers their sin and duty
before it be too late. What a blessed place is heaven, where there
will be no divisions, or disturbances, for ever ! To which glory may
He bring us, who hath most dearly bought us with the inestimable
price of his own blood. Amen.”
Such a letter was worthy of the daughter of Philip Henry.
A few additional extracts from her diary shall close this memoir, and
supply the place, as they obviate the necessity, of any further panegyric.
“ 1714. June. When I look back to the year 1686, wherein I first
began this account of myself, it is with the remark of that blessed apos-
tle—Having obtained help of God, I continue to this day. , Hitherto sup-
ported, comforted, carried on through storms and difficulties, so as still
to be, in some measure, pressing forward. Not unto me, not unto me.
Free grace shall have all the glory. I was then little more than twen-
ty; now almost fifty years of age. I have entered my declining years.
Finding those that look out of the windows begin to darken, I am obliged
to use glasses. I find my strength fails. Yet, as to these infirmities,
several things comfort me. They are only natural, and common, not
hastened by my own sin and folly. I, otherwise, enjoy a very great
measure of health, and can be in any post of usefulness, not having
been confined to my bed or chamber for almost three years. But the
greatest support of all is, the good hope of everlasting rest, that when
my earthly tabernacle shall be dissolved, I shall have a heavenly man-
sion provided for me, where I shall see God, and my glorious Redeemer,
and enjoy them. And though how or in what manner this shall be,
we are not sure, yet, the thing itself is clear, as if written with a sun-
beam. Not all the powers of earth and hell shall be able to break, or
make void, one link of that glorious golden chain. JMoreover, whom he
did predestinate, them he also called; and whom he called, them he also jus-
MRS. SAWAGE. 325
tified; and whom he justified, them he also glorified. What though the
flesh perish, and be worms’ meat, yet, the better part will be secured,
and the Lord Jesus Christ will not lose one grain of the dust of any of
his dear people, but will, by his power, raise them up ; so that soul and
body shall be united, and be together for ever with the Lord. Amen.
Hallelujah ! Establish thy word unto thy servant on which thou hast
caused me to hope. I am not ashamed, for I KNow in whom I have trust-
ed, and he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that
dau.”
*wenty years after, in 1734, the venerable writer thus reviews the
leading circumstances in her history.
“Finding decays,” she writes, “ especially in my memory, I think
it not improper to leave this testimony under my hand, of that kind
Providence which has followed me all my days. I think the employ-
ing of my writing faculty this way, is a duty which God may expect
from me, since I must own that is a pleasure to me, which some who
could do it are averse to.”
“In the 16th year of my age I was admitted to the Lord’s table.
I took the covenant of my baptism upon myself. I made it my
own act and deed to join myself to the Lord ; and I have since found -
unspeakable comfort that my early days—the male in the flock—were
dedicated to his service. I have often repeated, but never repented,
this choice.
“I think I should not overlook the great mercy I had in those years
by bodily health—not one day’s sickness in twenty years. I had
comfort in the society of friends and dear relations. We dwelt toge-
ther in the greatest unity. I had excellent helps by good books—
the lives of holy persons of both sexes. These, I am sure, may be
placed in the account of my mercies.
“The most signal, eminent mercy of God to me, was in the great
turn of my life, when I was married, March 28, 1687, to one every
way a help-meet for me. I was enabled, in some measure, by Divine
grace, for the duties of that state, and I had abundance of the com-
forts of it. All praise to the God of my mercies.
In the year 1688, I was brought safely through the small-pox, after
which my dear father led us in a family thanksgiving. He preached
from John, v. 14; Thou art made whole: sin no more. I would reckon
the frequent lectures we then had, among my mercies. I hope some
good was done, and the house was, as I thought, perfumed by the
good prayers offered in it.
“The end of that year my first daughter, Sarah, was born, and suita-
ble mercies were afforded to us both. After her I had six living
children—three taken, three left. Dear Philip spared to his 22d year,
then taken by the small-pox. I shall go to them.
“Another considerable mercy to me has been the marriage of all
my four daughters suitably, and with consent, and to those who
fear God, and have a competency in the world. All of them fruit-
ful vines, and nursing mothers. Especially, that I see some of theirs,
as they grow up, serious, with their faces heaven-ward.
“I think I may reckon among my mercies, the supports I have had
under sharp afflictions—an only son taken in the flower of his age, 1721
—my dear husband, in September, 1729, suddenly removed. Yet my
326 MEMOIRS OF MRS. SAWAGE.
God has taken that care of me which the dearest relations could not
have done, had they been spared. Since I have been in the widowed
state, still goodness and mercy have followed ine.
“The health I have in my old age is, surely, a great mercy.
“His mercy crowns my growing years.”
“I have the use of reason, and peace in my own conscience, those
unspeakable blessings. How much am I indebted Ebenezer.”
Towards the close of the diary occurs this short but expressive record.
Mrs. Savage was, at this period, verging on seventy-eight.
“1742. April 10. My kind Master will not cast off a poor old ser-
vant. It is a good remark of Dr. Watts's, that, “to a pious person, old
age is but as a summer’s evening.” O that mine may be sol”
Her wish was granted: her end was peace.
M. R. S. A N N H U L T ON.
ANN, the youngest daughter of the Rev. Philip Henry, was born at
Broad Oak, Nov. 25, 1668. She afforded, together with her sisters and
their brother, a signal instance of the advantage and blessing of a reli-
gious education. “I know not,” remarks the Editor of her Memoirs,
“whether the children were more happy in having such parents, or
the parents in having such children.” From the manuscript memoir
drawn up by her brother, the Rev. Matthew Henry, for private circu-
lation, and recently published by the author of Memoirs of Mrs. Savage,
we obtain the following brief particulars of her life and character.
This excellent person gave very early indications of a sweet and trac-
table disposition, and an aptness to learn above most of her sex and
age; which “induced her father, after she had learned to read English
well, before she began to sew, to initiate her into the Latin tongue,
which she took very easily, but made no great progress in it.” From
a child she knew the Holy Scriptures, and read them with delight;
and as soon as she grew to any capacity, “was very well affected and
inclined to the exercises of piety and devotion.” Before she had attain-
ed the age of seven, she had learned to take part in the repetitions of
the heads of sermons in the family; and when about eleven years old,
she began to write down the substance of what she heard; a practice
which she continued all her days. In her sixteenth year, she was ad-
mitted to the Lord's Supper, and, with a great deal of satisfaction both
to herself and to her pious father, joined herself to the Lord and to his
church. “How amiable and exemplary her deportment was in all
relations,” says her brother, “as a daughter, as a sister, as a friend,
they who knew her can easily bear record ; and though it never ap-
peared to the discouragement of the rest, it could not but be discerned,
that Mr. Henry had a special love for his little Nancy, and sometimes
said, she was the diamond in his ring.” In her twentieth year, she
was married to Mr. John Hulton, of Chester. In her private papers,
she thus refers to the change in her condition: “After nineteen years
barrenness in the place where I first sprung up, God was pleased, by
his providence, to put me in the married state, and transplant me into
a new soil. It was an affair I thought of great weight, and I was much
afraid of seeking great things for myself in this world therein.”
She became a mother in the year 1689; but the child died in the
birth. Her reflections on this event are very striking. -
A day never to be forgotten, wherein I felt the bitter fruits of the sin
of my mother Eve ; that part of the sentence being fully fulfilled, I will
greatly multiply thy sorrow ; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth. The peril
and danger were much greater than ordinary, so that there was but a
step between me and death. My flesh and heart were ready to fail,
and friends ready to despair; but God became the strength of my heart
and my portion; and I trust he will be so for ever. But behold, what
have these sheep done 7–O Adam, Adam what hast thou done ! My
328 MEMOIRS OF
comforts are taken away before I had well received them. Was it all
lost labour ! Surely no : I have good hope that Heaven is something
fuller for my babe. I shall go to her, but she shall not return to me.
My God is instead of all to me; and were he not mine, sure it were
impossible to bear up without sinking under those pains I endured.
But the mercy swallowed up the affliction, and rejoiced against judg-
ment. I have often promised to love him, and to live to him ; and I
do it once more.” “What need,” she would often say, in reference to
this event, “have mothers to pray for their children before they are
born l’”
She had afterwards several children, who were spared to her; and
her affectionate solicitude as a mother is conspicuous in her letters. “I
know,” she writes to a friend, “you rejoice with us when we rejoice.
That you may do so, you must know how it is with us. As yet, health
and peace are continued; the nursery prospers, and the little ones;
angels watch over us continually. The tediousness of nursing, we owe
to sin : that which sweetens it, is, the hope that some of our children
may glorify God in the world.” And again : “It comforts me as to
nursing inconveniences, that bringing up of children, lodging strangers,
and washing the saints’ feet, are put together as good works, 1 Tim. v.
10.” Her tender care of two orphans, the relations of her husband,
which the providence of God brought into their family, was another
amiable trait in her domestic character. “The virtuous woman,”
pithily remarks Matthew Henry, “will look well to the ways of her
household, and yet not neglect the ways of her heart.” This was
strikingly illustrated in Mrs. Hulton. Cheerful, active, frugal, and
charitable, she made it appear that she found the ways of wisdom plea-
santness, and her conversation was well adapted to win “those who are
without. Her evenness and composure under all events, were very
exemplary. “One should seldom or never see her ruffled or disturbed
by any provocation, lifted up with any joy, or cast down with any sor-
row.” Yet was she far from being insensible, as her zeal to promote
works of piety and charity, and her readiness to stretch forth her hand
to the needy, amply testified. She visited the widow and the father-
less in their affliction, and kept herself “unspotted from the world.”
A letter which she wrote to one of whom she had heard something
scandalous, taking care that it should not be known from whom it came,
is too characteristic and instructive to be omitted.
“Mr. —,
“To ease myself, and, if it might be, to do you good, is my design
in writing this. I, having joined with you in Gospel ordinances, can-
not hear of your fall without fear and trembling. Very loath I was to
believe it; speak of it I may not:—“tell it not in Gath, publish it not
in the streets of Askalon ;’ but first to yourself, whom I cannot expect
to inform of that which you know not, but remind you of that you do
know, that the prevailing love of God in the heart will no way consist
with the love and liking of any sin. Whoever they be that name the
name of Christ, and do not depart from iniquity, I am sure their profes-
sion will carry them but a little way, at furthest but to heaven's gates:
dissembled piety is double iniquity, and shall receive greater damnation.
I do wonder how, and with what face, any one can appear before God,
º
MRS. ANN HULTON. 329
among his people, in solemn ordinances, that is yet resolved to go on in
sin. Consider, you may deceive us that join with you, but not Him
that searcheth the heart, and knows what is in man. Is your spot
the spot of God’s children? It is true, David fell foully; and I fear some
have encouraged themselves in sin by his example; but let them con-
sider, it was once,—in an hour of temptation,-and it cost him dear.
He came home by weeping cross, and I believe he would not for his
kingdom have repeated the sin: after which, he had scarce a good day.
Wherefore is his sad fall recorded, but that all people may take heed of
entering into temptation, and watch and pray that they may not Is it
a light matter that religion is so much reflected on 4 By your means the
blessed name of Jesus Christ suffers. People say, ‘Yea, they are all
alike; whereas, God knows, as you have opened the mouth of the wick-
ed, you have saddened the hearts of the godly, who mourn in secret for
your miscarriages. May I advise you, nay, doth not the word of God
command you, to remember whence you are fallen, and to repent ; and
let your repentance be public, as your fall hath been. There is yet
hope if you return, but none if you go on : there is a fountain opened
for poor sinners, to wash from sin and from uncleanness, but then you
must look up to Him whom you have pierced, and mourn. I know not
what frame you are in, but God knows, this comes from the true love I
bear to your soul and the interest of religion, which greatly suffers :
offences do come, and will come, but wo to them by whom they come !
Can there be baser ingratitude than to make Him suffer by us, who suf-
fered so much for us? Do you thus requite the Lord 'ſ Dare any come
to the table of the Lord for a cloak to vile practices ! O profound mad-
ness Is the holy Jesus a patron of sin Is Christianity a bare name 4
No, I will never believe it ! What shall I say 'ſ Return unto the Lord, for
you have fallen into iniquity: take with you these words, and say, Take
away all iniquity, Hosea xiv. 2. I shall cease speaking to you, but not
praying for you, who am
“Your soul’s Friend.”
Mrs. Hulton, and her sister Mrs. Radford, died within a few weeks
of each other, and within little more than a year of their eminent father.
Soon after the death of her sister, Mrs. Hulton thus writes to her sister
Savage. -
“The good tidings we have had of your safe delivery,” (which was
the next day after her sister Radford’s death,) “ and that God was to
you a present help, and both root and branch are spared, mixeth our
song of judgment with mercy, and God hath set the one over against
the other. We have been continued together many years; and after
the crown fell from our head, God let us alone another year also : but
now the knot is broken. O for a sense of Divine displeasure in his dis-
pensation, and wisdom to spell out the meaning thereof For all this,
his anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still. Dear sister
Tylston is very weak. We want our Aaron, the priest of the family,
who would have stood between the living and the dead, that the plague
might be stayed. God is angry, and I am not yet humbled as I should
be under the mighty hand of God; and a mighty hand indeed it is. O,
pray for me that I may be more so I find there is no putting off the
great work of closing with Christ till sickness and death come, for that
- 42 •
330 MEMOIRS OF
is a very unfit time. And when it is done, I see it is not easy then to
have the comfort of it.” 2- -
The folloying account of her last illness is taken from the memoir
drawn up by Mr. Matthew Henry.
“She was at public ordinances both morning and evening on the
Lord’s day, August 29; she had been with her relations, who were ill,
the day before, and that day also. Though the distemper had seized
her a day before, yet she kept it to herself, as loath to be taken off by
it from her work and duty. But that night it appeared that she was
under the violent assault of a high fever ; the alarm of which she re-
ceived with her usual evenness and composure of spirit; and though
she seemed from her first arrest to have received the sentence of death
within herself, yet she was not at all disturbed at it, but spake of her
circumstances with much cheerfulness. She was exceedingly afflicted
with pain in her head, which quite deprived her of rest, and sleep de-
parted from her eyes.
“On Monday she sat up most of the day, spoke of her spiritual state
with great humility and self-diffidence, repenting of sin, yet rejoicing in
Christ Jesus: she said, she was afraid of saying too much of her hope
and comfort, because the heart is deceitful.
“All that week, she continued worse, (notwithstanding all means
used,) but kept in a very patient, submisive, heavenly frame. When
asked how she did, she answered, ‘Better than I deserve.” Often she
said, ‘I know whom I have trusted.” She desired to have the begin-
ning of Isaiah xliii. read and opened to her, that Scripture which Mr.
Bilney the martyr supported himself with, When thou passest through
the waters, I will be with thee. She desired pardon for her omissions in
the duty of her relations. The following sentences she uttered:
“‘ I am not weary of living, but I am weary of sinning; I would
live as Christ lives, and where Christ lives, and that I am sure will be
heaven.”
“‘There are many passages in the Psalms not so proper for us but at
such a time as this; as that, JMy flesh and my heart fail, but God is the
strength of my heart and my portion for ever.’ t *
“‘Let none think the worse of religion or of our family worship for
the afflictions that are in our families, nor have a hard thought of God,
for, however it be, yet God is good.”
“When her pain and extremity were great, she said, ‘I know the
great God can do me no wrong. Who would desire to go so many
steps back, which must some time or other be gone over again, when
now I have but one stile more, and I shall be at home 'P
“‘I have hope in my death, for Christ hath said, Because I live, ye
shall live also.”
“‘ I have distrusted God, and am ashamed of it, for God is truth.”
“‘Now for a promise.”
“‘I hope this is no surprise.”
“ You are miserable comforters, but Jesus Christ is my abiding por-
tion.
“‘ I shall now be gathered to my people, and I have loved those that
are godly, both poor and rich.” >
“‘Blessed be God for the Scriptures now.”
MRS. ANN HULTON. 331
“Towards Saturday night she grew delirious; yet even then, it was
evident her heart was upon nothing so much as God, and the things of
her soul; speaking often, with a smiling, cheerful countenance, of
psalms of praise, and hymns of joy.” * *
“While she was under this disturbance, she often recollected herself
with this word, ‘Here is nothing but Tohu and Bohu, (referring to
Genesis i. 2,) confusion and emptiness; but it will not be so long.”
“After eight days’ conflict with her distemper, on Monday, Septem-
ber 6, 1697, between the hours of seven and eight in the morning, she
fell asleep in the Lord. }
“She was buried, September 8, in St. Bridget's church, attended to
the grave by abundance of true mourners, with whom her memory is
and will be very precious.”
M. R. S. E S T H E R B U L KLEY.
ON Friday, April 24, 1807, died at West Bromwich, in Staffordshire,
in the 87th year of her age, Mrs. Esther Bulkley. This lady was
grand-daughter, and the last survivor of the immediate descendants, of
the Reverend Matthew Henry, “whose praise is in all the churches.”
Mrs. Savage and Mrs. Hulton were, consequently, her great-aunts.
Her great grandfather, the Rev. Philip Henry, was a man of exem-
plary piety, learning, and talents; and his rank and connexion in so-
ciety were of the most respectable order. The family of the Henrys
were sarcely more distinguished by their religious character, than by
their engaging courteousness and urbanity of manners. In all these
respects, and in whatever was appropriate to the female character, the
deceased was the faithful and amiable representative of her ancestors.
To delineate with even tolerable fidelity this excellent woman, would
be to produce, in some degree, the effect of a personal acquaintance
with her; which, however slight, never failed of procuring for her the
tribute of esteem. Her person was interesting ; diminutive, delicate,
and valetudinary, yet indicative of charming vivacity. Her counte-
nance exhibited a set of striking features, illuminated by intelligence
and benevolence, yet full of dignity; grave, approaching to solemnity,
but placid, cheerful, serene, and happy. Her manners, though not
without a mixture of that punctilious precision which is thought to
characterize those of her sex who are less connected than others by so-
cial and domestic affinities, (for she died unmarried,) were yet highly
engaging. They were strikingly decorous, but animated and affection-
ate ; timid, and tremblingly conscientious, yet affable, and, to her near
acquaintances, friendly and confidential.
The qualities of her mind were such as would naturally be sought
for under this exterior. They were the produce of Divine cultivation
in a soil divinely prepared and rendered favourable to their growth;
the fruits which are brought forth a hundred-fold from good seed sown
in good ground. Her early connexions were scarcely more propitious
to genuine religion, than were the future circumstances and habits of
her ‘life to its growth and improvement. Mrs. Bulkley was born in
London, Nov. 16, 1720. Her father, Mr. Thomas Bulkley, a native
of Lymington, in Hampshire, was a silk-mercer in Ludgate Street. He
died when she was very young. The conduct of her education, there-
fore, devolved upon her mother; and those who have observed the
influence of the maternal character, and of maternal care, when assi-
duously employed in the formation of the youthful mind, will not be
surprised that the child of the daughter of Matthew Henry should be
successfully trained in the footsteps of her forefathers.
In a brief record of the changes of her residence, which she calls
“An account of her various wanderings during an abode of forty-five
years in this wilderness,” it appears, that at the age of ten, when she
was residing with her mother in the family of Sir John Hartopp, at
MRS. ESTHER BULKLEY. " 333
Epsom, “ Divine grace directed the wanderer to take the first feeble and
too oft remitting steps towards Canaan :” these are her own words. At
fifteen, having by the death of her mother become an orphan, she re-
turned into her family, and went to reside with three aunts, the Miss
Henrys, at Chester. Two of these ladies marrying, she removed from
Chester to Wim, in Shropshire; and from thence, in 1748, to West
Bromwich, where she passed nearly the whole of the remainder of her
life. The paper just now mentioned concludes thus: October 30, 1770.
Removed to Hill Top, (a part of West Bromwich,) from whence I wait
my last remove.” And thence, in fact, it was made, but not till a period
which little entered into the writer’s contemplation. Her constitution
was delicate, and her health so extremely precarious, as to afford rea-
sonable ground for her constant expectation of her final change, an
expectation entertained with a calmness of mind which displayed, in a
striking degree, the influence of evangelical religion. At West Brom-
wich, she was still among her family connexions. Her two aunts had
been married to two respectable gentlemen, brothers, of the name of
Brett, who resided in this village; and there also those amiable women
exchanged their earthly for an heavenly abode.
The life of a single lady, spent in the retirement of a village, can offer
but few incidents requiring particular notice ; but the features of such a
character as Mrs. Bulkley’s, must create some degree of general inte-
rest. The sweetness of her manners, her vivacity, and her active bene-
ficence, procured her the esteem of persons in all ranks. Her humility
and diffidence were equalled only by her actual proficiency in the
graces of the Christian temper and life. Her attachment to the ordi-
nances of religion, and her diligent improvement of them, discovered
the secret of her attainments. Devotion was her element: she had
a lively zeal for public worship, and for the purity and prosperity of the
ministry, and of the church universally. She was fond of reading.
Her bible was her companion, her friend, and her counsellor. Her
grandfather's Exposition, and the manuscript notes of sermons, &c.
which had been preserved in the family, were her constant perusal.
Upon these, and the older writers on practical religion, she employed
much of her time. Biography, and the history of eventful periods, in-
terested her even at a very advanced period of her life. Her conversa-
tion was interesting and instructive, and her epistolary communications
remarkably so. The talent for writing which she possessed, rendered
her correspondence easy and pleasant, to her latest years. The liveli-
ness of her conceptions, and peculiar felicity of expression, imparted to
her familiar letters an irresistible charm ; whilst the warmth of her
affection, her solicitude for the happiness of her friends, and her exalted
piety, rendered them lessons of sound morality and religious instruc-
tion.
In adverting to herself, and her own experience and history, her
predominating sentiments were those of gratitude to the Preserver of
a life so long protracted beyond her utmost expectations, and so highly
distinguished, as she considered it, by undeserved mercies. To a
friend, who was in the habit of writing to her on every anniversary of
her birth, she thus commences one of her answers, having then enter-
ed on her 86th year:-“So it pleases the Almighty to permit me once
more to take up my pen, in a thankful acknowledgment of the recep-
334 MEMOIRS OF MRS. BULKLEY.
tion of your favours of the 15th and 16th instant... I am ashamed to
think that the lengthening out of so unprofitable a life as mine, should
engage so much of your attention: that it should occupy much of my
own with serious reflection is right, both in humiliation and thankful-
IłęSS. k
“Still has my life new wonders seen
Repeated every year;
Behold, my days that yet remain,
I trust to that Almighty care?”
“I have abundant cause for daily and hourly thanksgiving, that
these days of old age are not as yet attended with extreme pain or
violent illness. Under all my infirmities, it is a constant and standing
consolation to me, that my God knows my frame,
“And does no heavy load impose
Beyond the strength that he bestows:”
and, by Divine assistance, I endeavour, by faith, to look beyond the
present scene, and excite myself to be a patient waiting servant, trust-
ing, through the hope the Gospel gives, that He who has hitherto so
mercifully guided me by his counsel, will conduct me through death’s
gloomy shades, gilded by his presence, to that world where there is ful-
ness of joy.”
She suffered no sensible declension of her powers through several of
her last years. For some months before her decease, the faculties of
sight and hearing were impaired; but she remained the same lively,
intelligent, and pleasant companion. Her departure was an easy and
quiet transition from earth to heaven. Her mind was exceedingly calm
at the first approach of the disorder. She said, “God is doing his own
work. Welcome the will of God l’” She was buried at West Brom-
wich, on Wednesday, the 29th of April, 1807.

THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD.
ANNA, Countess of SEAFIELD, the eldest daughter of Sir William
Dunbar of Durn, son to the Laird of Grangehill, and Janet Brodie his
wife, grandchild of the Lord Brodie, was born in the year 1672, and
bred up virtuously from her infancy by her parents, and particularly by
her grandmother, Lady Dunbar, who was a virtuous and pious woman,
and took care to instil into her grandchild’s mind a sense of piety and
devotion from her very infancy. There appeared in her, from her
childhood, a sweetness of temper and disposition which made her
agreeable to all that saw her, and which was always observable in her
to the last.
When she was a young girl with her parents, her mother would have
had her learn housewifery; but her inclination led her rather to read, and
therefore she stayed mostly in her closet, and gave herself much to
reading, and still avoided the company of the servants, having an ab-
horrence of the profaneness and ribaldry with which they are ready to
defile one another’s ears, and pollute their hearts. In this sense, one’s
great enemies are oftentimes those of one’s own house ; and children, in
their younger years, are greatly corrupted by the example and speeches
of servants.
Her parents, knowing how ready young people are to corrupt one ano-
ther, and that one of the best means to keep them from evil is to pre-
serve them from the occasion of it, chose not to send her to the city, to
the women’s schools, according to the ordinary custom, there to be
trained up in the things which become those of her own age and quality
to learn ; but to keep a virtuous woman within their house to attend
their daughter, and instruct her in such things as were fit for her to
learn.
She began very early to read good and devout books, and took delight
to hear them read to her; and when a portion of some of them had
been read, she would retire to her closet, and was often observed there
on her knees in prayer to God. When she was about eight years of
age, while reading the holy Scriptures, she happened to read these
words, “The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that
forget God.” On which, reflecting on her own sinful state, she was
struck with great terror, looking on herself as one of those against whom
this is threatened. In this state her grandmother did greatly comfort
her; and when she would be in the greatest anguish, these two passages
of holy Scripture gave cure and relief to her spirit: “One day with the
Lord is as a thousand years; and a thousand years as one day. When
the wicked turneth away from his wickedness which he hath committed,
and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive.”
However, the deep impression of this threatening remained on her
spirit for several years.
While she was with her parents, her mother was visited with a se-
were and long sickness, during which she constantly attended her, and
*
336 MEMOIRS OF
ministered to her in every thing, sitting up by her in the night to serve
her. The seeing her mother so afflicted, and the apprehensions of her
death, and the solitary nights she spent in attending her, made her very
thoughtful; so that she employed them much in reading the Scriptures
and devout books, and came thereby to have a deep sense of her duty
to God, and received her parent’s blessing for her so pious care of her;
of the good of all which she was afterwards very sensible.
In the sixteenth year of her age, she was married to the Hon. James
Ogilvie, second son to the Earl of Findlater, who was afterwards cre-
ated Earl of Seafield; and whose eminent parts appeared in the dis-
charge of two great offices of state, that of secretary of state, and that
of lord high chancellor. When he came first to ask her for his wife, her
father having told her of it the night before, some of her acquaintances
pressed her to look out of her window to see him while he alighted, for
she had never seen him, but she would not do it. When he first ad-
dressed her, she gave him no other return but that she was to obey her
parents, and be directed by them.
The entering so young into the married state, where she foresaw so
many difficulties, made her very thoughtful, and therefore she had re-
course to God, and begged earnestly counsel and direction from him.
And this, she said, she did afterwards in all her difficulties, and that
she found God was pleased to direct her and bring her through them
she knew not how. When she was first married, her husband had but
a narrow fortune. Although he had the prospect of being his father’s
heir, (his elder brother, though alive, being very infirm,) yet, the estate
of the family was under such burdens, that it was scarcely better than
none at all. This made her give great application to a careful and pru-
dent management. But it pleased God to bless them afterwards with
considerable wealth; and his lordship being for the most part from home,
committed to her the care and management of his estate, which trust
she discharged with exemplary fidelity.
Though her husband, being employed in public affairs, was, for the
most part, abroad, yet she kept still at home, being careful to educate
and bring up her children in virtue and piety, and looked well to the
ways of her household, and ate not the bread of idleness : a rare exam-
ple for the ladies of this age. She was most careful to nip the first buds
of vice that appeared in her children. She constantly inculcated to them
the heinousness of disobedience to God; and would not forgive them
any offence, till they had first earnestly begged pardon of God. And
she made them always conceive, that the reason of their obedience to
her commands, was that it was the will of God, and he commanded it.
Her eldest son, in his childhood, when about five or six years of age,
having learned from the servants to take the name of God in vain, she
wrought in him such a sense of the baseness and heinousness of that
crime, that ever afterwards he had a horror of it. At another time,
about the eighth or ninth year of his age, she having given him a little
money to carry to a beggar whom she saw at the gate, he was tempted
by a boy of the same age with himself, to buy figs with it. This com-
ing to her ears, she so laid before him the heinousness of this sin, the
greatness of the theft he had committed in robbing the poor, the dread-
fulness of the account he must have to give at the last judgment for this
uncharitableness, when we shall be judged by Jesus Christ according
THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 337
to our charity or want of it; and did so inculcate upon him the thoughts
of death and judgment, heaven and hell, as made him to tremble, and
gave him a deep sense of that charity and compassion which we ought
to have for the poor and miserable. There was nothing she was more
careful to curb in her children than the least inclination to lying or
deceit. She was also careful to suppress in them the least inclination
to pride and self-conceit. And when she found them lifted up, she
would take occasion to humble them, and so to point out to them their
faults as to mortify their pride.
Though it was her care to make no show in her devotion, and not to
be seen of men ; yet, for the most part, she constantly retired thrice a
day for prayer and meditation on the holy Scriptures; and in particular
on the Lord’s-day in the afternoon; and frequently took in some one of
her children with her, keeping her child under her arm while she prayed
with great devotion; and afterwards would sit down and speak seriously
to the child of the obedience and love he owed to God, the duty of de-
pending upon him, and having recourse to him by prayer on all occa-
sions, repenting and confessing his sins before him. And she would
then reprove him mildly of any particular faults she thought he was
guilty of, and recommend to him the particular duties he ought to
perform ; and especially to employ the Lord’s-day in reading and me-
ditating on the holy Scriptures and in prayer. She would then dismiss
the child to get by heart a portion of a psalm, or some other part of the
holy Scripture. She accustomed the children, from their infancy, to
pray morning and evening, and recommended to them, before they fell
asleep, to call to mind some passage of Scripture, and meditate upon it;
and when they awoke in the morning, to do the same.
About a year after their marriage, they came to live with the Earl
of Findlater, her husband’s father, at his house of Cullen ; where, the
Countess of Findlater being deceased, the whole care of the family was
committed to her; in the management of which she discovered a won-
derful prudence and discretion, far beyond what could have been ex-
pected from a young lady of eighteen years of age. There were in the
family, besides the lady and her own husband, the Earl of Findlater,
his eldest son, the Lord Deskfoord, the earl’s two daughters, both of
them older than herself, and a younger son; and these were of such
different tempers and interests, that it was not easy to oblige one with-
out disobliging the other; and yet, this young lady so lived among
them, as to obtain the esteem and good will of all, and to avoid a con-
cern in their little quarrels and resentments. She heard them com-
plain of each other, without offending the person complained of, and
was displeasing to none of them.
The Earl of Seafield had been in office several years, both in Edin-
burgh and London, before he obliged his lady to leave her country-
house to come to live with him at court or in the city. The ladies
used to express their surprise that she lived still in the country, and
concluded her lord was ashamed to bring her to the court and the city,
because of her rural breeding. They earnestly pressed him to bring
her up, and they pleased themselves with the fancy of the sport and
divertisement they should have in the manners, speech, conversation,
and behaviour of a country lass, and how odd she would look when
she was out of her element. She knew not what it was to disobey her
338 MEMOIRs of
husband; and as she was well pleased to live in the country as long
as ne saw it fit, so she made no scruple, upon his call, to come to the
city. Before she came first to Edinburgh, she had never been in a town
so remarkable as Aberdeen, and therefore one would think every thing
might seem strange to her; but, on the contrary, she did not appear
at all affected with the novelty of things. When the ladies and others
came to visit her, they were surprised to find how much they had been
inistaken in their opinion of her, and that, instead of rural manners,
they beheld a lady endued with all the valuable accomplishments of the
breeding of a court and city, and tainted with none of their vices.
Her behaviour towards others was so courteous, that never any one
who saw her, of what quality soever, thought her wanting in the re-
spect due to them. Whatever occasions offered of doing good offices to
others, she was ready to embrace them. In conversation, she had an
easiness of expressing herself in proper words, without the least affec-
tation. . She was so well versed both in ancient and modern history,
and in the present state of Europe, and in matters of religion, that no
subject of conversation did usually occur to which she was a stranger.
She had nothing of the coquetry of the age; her behaviour in all
things was perfectly modest and unaffected; and both in Scotland and
England, in the opinion of the most discerning persons, she obtained
the character of one of the most accomplished ladies in Britain, and
had the good will and esteem of all ranks of people.
The Earl of Seafield being engaged in the interest and service of
the court at the time when the discontents of the nation swelled to a
great height, he became one chief butt of their displeasure, which is
the ordinary fate of ministers of state. His lady on all occasions stood
up for the honour and interest of her husband, and to vindicate him
from the reproaches cast upon him ; and yet, nevertheless, retained the
general good will, so that when the rabble arose at Edinburgh with re-
spect to Darien, and broke the glass windows, and did other indignities
to houses which wanted illuminations; though there were none in the
Earl of Seafield’s house, where his lady then was, and though they
were on their march to commit insolences there ; yet, upon a sugges-
tion made them that none was there but this virtuous lady, and that it
would be ungenerous to treat her indiscreetly, they turned their course
another way.
In the year 1706, her lord, then Chancellor of Scotland, being about
to return from court, and having desired her to meet him at Edinburgh,
while she was making ready for the journey, she was seized suddenly
in her closet, at the moment that she was employed in preparing to
receive the sacrament on the next Lord’s-day, with a violent vomiting
of blood, which returned more than once, and brought her to the very
gates of death. God was pleased to call her, not only by this sudden
and unexpected stroke, but by the checks and motions of his Holy Spirit;
and she was struck with a deep sense of God’s wonderful mercies to her,
and of her abuse of them. She had before her the prospect of death
and eternity, and felt how unfit she was to enter into it. *
On the review of her whole life, though she had not been guilty of
what the world would account heinous crimes, yet she found that she
had been seeking herself and her own reputation more than God; and
saw what a difference there was between that virtue which is founded
THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 339
on true humility and the sincere love of God, and is the work of his
grace and Spirit, and that which is only the effect of self-love. She
was struck with deep remorse that in all things she had sought herself
more than God, and by ardent prayers implored his mercy and com-
passion for Christ Jesus' sake. And while she was in the extremity
of weakness, she caused her eldest daughter to read to her the fifth
chapter of Matthew, and made so excellent a discourse on the eight
beatitudes therein contained, that it greatly affected and left a deep im-
pression on the spirits of all who were present. . She devoted herself
wholly to God, and begged earnestly, if it were his holy will, that he
would be pleased to spare her yet a while, even but for one year more.
The Lord heard her prayer, and, beyond the expectation of all, she was
restored to health, and had the least she desired granted her, so that
her soul was full of devout adoration. And in this divine frame and
disposition of spirit, she wrote meditations on the Lord’s prayer, which
are inserted in the manuscript. A few extracts from them will serve
to mark their character.
“O holy Lord God,come then and rule in my heart. Be my king, and
establish thyself a throne in my affections; and govern my will that I
may be a most obedient subject unto thee. O hasten the day when
all knees shall bow before thee, and all tongues shall confess thy name,
when the gospel shall shine gloriously, and Jew and Gentile shall,
in their heart and practice, acknowledge the Messiah, and turn their
affections to the great and mighty God.”
“O God, I desire to give up my will unto thee, and let thy will be
done in and by me ; and not only in me, but in all that is mine. O
pull down every thought that raiseth itself in disobedience to thee,
and every base imagination, that thy will may be fully obeyed, not
only by me, but in all the earth. Give thy enlightening Spirit, that thy
will may be known, and that it may dissipate the thick clouds of iniquity
that darken or go between thee and us. Lord, let me no longer satisfy
myself with praying, Thy will be done; but, by an actual giving
myself to be guided by thy revealed will, and by submission to thy
providential will, may I follow thee in all thy steps.”
“Lord Jesus, thou art the bread of life : give me that bread which
shall feed me to life everlasting ; and grant, that as I cannot live without
a dependence on thee, so, I may never desire to live without it, but that
the eyes of my soul may be always looking towards thee, and receiving
with thankfulness my temporal and spiritual food from thy hands. O
that I could give my heart entirely to thee I Lord, I am a poor defiled
wretch ; but it is by thy blood I must be cleansed, whose I am, and to
whom I do resign myself, soul and body, and all that is mine. This is
but what gratitude obliges me to, since he gave himself for sinners, of
whom I am the chief.”
“O holy Lord Jesus, grant that my passions may be subdued to thee,
and that all my revenge and anger may be against sin ; that I may
strive, through thy strength, to root it out of my heart; that I may be
a declared enemy to the devil, the world, and the flesh, whom I re-
nounced in my baptism, and have declared war against often in the
vows which I have made to thee.”
“O keep me from relying on anything but Christ, and him crucified,
and on thy abounding mercy. O holy Lord God, purge me from sin
340 MEMOIRS OF
and pardon the sins of my holy duties, my wandering and vain thoughts
in prayer. O take away my hardness and stupidity of heart: possess
my will, and fill my affections ! Thou art the only object that is worthy
of all love | Thou only canst satisfy a right-placed affection ſ”
Such are the excellent meditations which this lady then formed on
this divine prayer: and they manifest the deep sense and feeling of her
heart with respect to the greatness and goodness of God, the infinite
obligations she had to love him with all her heart, her great undutiful-
ness to so good a God, and the hopes she had in his mercy through
Jesus Christ, to which she flees, yielding up her will wholly unto his,
and resolving, in the strength of his grace,to live from henceforth wholly
unto him, that he might reign and rule in her heart, and no idol might
find any place there. Nothing of this manuscript was known till a few
days before her death, when she desired one of her maids to look for
such a paper in her cabinet, and bring it to her, that some parts of it
being read to her, she might the more reproach herself for not having
walked answerably to such powerful calls, and such solemn engage-
Inent.S.
The Countess of Seafield continued in a tolerable state of health for
about a year after her former sickness; she was then seized again with
the same malady, and had the sentence of death in herself, that she
might not trust in herself, but in God who raiseth the dead. She was
deeply sensible how far short she had come in answering her former call
from God, and her engagements to him ; and she had recourse to his
infinite mercy, begging he would yet spare her to recover strength, be-
fore she went hence. Her prayer was again heard, and her spitting of
blood was stayed. Recovering some degree of bodily health, and being
desired by her lord to see him at Edinburgh, public affairs requiring his
return to court, she went thither and stayed for some time. She was
here seized with a violent cough, which continued till she was deli-
vered of a son. For a few days after this, she was more easy: but, in
a little time, the cough and the hectic returned with more violence
than ever. -
Soon after her return home, being low in health and in agony of
mind, she happened to read that passage of holy Scripture, 1 Thess. v.
16, “ Rejoice evermore, pray without ceasing, in every thing give
thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” She
was thereby greatly comforted; and the duty of continual resignation
to the will of God, and of continual prayer to him, was thereby so
pressed upon her, that she was led to more frequent prayer, and to the
entire surrender of her heart to God. She complained, indeed, of fre-
Quent distractions, but she begged that He would accept the will for
the deed; and in all her agonies and troubles, she was enabled to resign
herself to the Divine will, and to comfort herself thus: “His wrath
endureth but for a moment. In his favour is life. Weeping may en-
dure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”
Some weeks after she was brought to bed, being under great pain
and weakness of body, and agony of spirit, she asked her son, what
apprehensions he had of death, when of late he was so low in his health
at London and given over by the physicians, whether he thought he
should then die. He replied, that he had not at that time any positive
impression on his spirit that he should then die, as she seemed to have,
THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 341
but was very uncertain what the event might be. On this, she asked
what he then thought of himself in case he should die. To which he
answered, that when he considered his own great impurity, and called
to mind many instances of it, and also of his great ingratitude to God,
notwithstanding God’s tender and continual care of him, he judged
that it was hardly possible he should ever be admitted into his presence,
or have any communion with him ; but that when he was in these
thoughts, he happened, in reading his Bible, to meet with this passage
of Scripture: “But let us who are of the day be sober, putting on the
breast-plate of faith and love, and for an helmet the hope of salvation ;
for God hath not appointed us to wrath, but to obtain salvation by our
Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us that we may live with him ;” that
this immediately encouraged him to hope that, through the merits of
Jesus Christ, his sins might be done away, and greatly comforted him ;
and that afterwards, looking a little further, he observed these words:
“Rejoice evermore : pray without ceasing: in every thing give thanks :
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you;” which
words suggested to him how great reason he had to be thankful for
whatever might be the will of God concerning him, since God had ever
been so good to him, notwithstanding his ingratitude and impurity :
and since his will could not but be the best, that therefore he should
never let grief or melancholy prevail over him, but should comfort him-
self with his being commanded to rejoice evermore, and in every thing
to give thanks; and that in all his infirmities of body and heaviness of
mind, and temptations from the devil, the world, and the flesh, he
should always have recourse to the remedy which God himself had
prescribed to him, viz. to pray without ceasing. He added, that on
many occasions afterwards, when he happened to be in any of those
circumstances, the remembrance of these passages of Scripture had
comforted and supported him. On this his mother expressed a great
deal of joy, and said, that when she herself, in the last winter, had been
weak in health, and in great anguish of mind on his account, the same
passages of Scripture had greatly refreshed her spirit. She confessed
she had been far from rejoicing in God’s will, and praying without ceas-
ing; but she hoped God would mercifully look upon her infirmities,
while she resolved, forgetting what was past, to do the best for the fu-
ture.
She had now a prospect of her approaching end, and applied wholly
to prepare for it. She abandoned the concern of all other things, and
was taken up entirely with the thoughts of death and eternity. She
often said, that it was a quite different thing to meditate on death at a
distance, and to behold it just at the door. She was struck with a
deep sense of her undutifulness to God, of the mispending of her time,
of her having been an unfaithful steward of what he had committed to
her trust, of her unfaithfulness to her former calls and solemn engage-
ments, and that now, when the cry was to go out and meet the Bride-
groom, she might have had oil in her lamp, but she had slumbered and
slept. She continued for several days in great distress of mind, judg-
ing and condemning herself, confessing that she had sought to please
herself more than God, and that self-love and the cares of the world
had occupied her thoughts more than God, and that she was not wor:
thy of any regard from him. Thus she poured out her soul before God
342 MEMOIRS OF
day and night, through a deep sense of her sins and a dread of the
Divine judgment; often saying, “There is no peace to the wicked,
saith my God.” And being told by some who visited her, that no re-
pentance was acceptable to God, but that which flowed from the true
love of God, and not from self-love and the dread of hell, and she,
doubting if hers was any thing else, was ready to despond. And when,
to comfort her, it was told her, that she had led a very virtuous life, and
so had no reason to entertain such fears, she said it was far from being
so, and that she had sought only to please herself. When bewailing to
one her sinful condition, saying, that although God had preserved her
from gross and scandalous sins, yet, when she placed herself in God’s
presence, and beheld his purity, she saw in herself nothing but vileness,
having sought only to please herself, and not God; it was said in reply,
that she had reason to bless God, who had opened her eyes to see her
own sinfulness, and that this was a token of his great mercy to her;
that though her sins were great and many, yet, the Lord was “not
willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance;”
“that he came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance ;” that
she saw with what compassion Jesus treated sinners, while he was
upon earth—“Daughter, be of good comfort, thy sins are forgiven thee.”
“But,” said she, “I have mispent all my life ; and now no more time
remains for me.” It was told her, that neither the greatness nor the
multitude of sins would exclude from God’s mercy those who should
seek him and turn to him with all their hearts; and that although her
time was now short, yet, she ought to consider, that not only they who
were called at the third, sixth, and ninth hours received their penny,
but he also who was called at the eleventh. She said, that “ God had
some years ago mercifully called her, and had she answered that call,
she might have been a grown Christian before now, but she had slum-
bered and slept.” It was told her, that she had great reason to deplore
this; but such was the infinite goodness and mercy of God, that he
continued yet to call her : “Behold, I stand at the door and knock:
if any man will hear my voice, and open the door, I will come unto
him.”—“O my God,” she said, “I would open my heart wholly to
thee: come and take possession of it.” Some, it was further argued,
who had been powerfully called, and yet had afterwards not only slum-
bered, but fallen into grievous sins, have been again called and found
mercy. David had been called in his youth, yet afterwards fell into
grievous sins; but God had mercy on him, and granted him the grace
of repentance and pardon. Peter was called to be our Lord's disciple,
and followed him, but yet afterwards denied his Lord ; and when his
Lord looked on him, he went out and wept bitterly: and we see with
what compassion our Lord treated him : he did not so much as upbraid
him with his sin, but said, “Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me ! feed
my sheep.”—“I do not,” she observed, “ in the least distrust the
mercy, the boundless mercy and compassion of God; but the deceitful-
ness of my own heart, which makes me think I am penitent, when per-
haps it is only the fear of hell which affects me ; and should I recover
again, I should again slumber and sleep.” You have indeed reason to
distrust yourself, it was said to her, and we are bid to work out our sal:
vation with fear and trembling; but he that will judge you is the Lord
who died for you. Therefore you are to resign yourself wholly to your
THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 343
merciful God and Saviour, and to labour, by his grace, to have the pre-
sent temper of your heart all contrition, all love, all adoration. God of
his mercy has given you this disposition at present, and he will not break
the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax, until he bring forth judg-
ment unto victory. He now has given you a heart to adore and love
him, and to abhor and hate yourself for having been so undutiful to him.
It is God who worketh this holydisposition in your heart, and will perfect
it unto the end: and as to your fear, in case your health be restored, of
returning to a state of slumber, the Lord will either strengthen you to
resist temptations, if he see it is for his glory to continue you longer in
this life, or he will remove you out of the hazard of temptation. “His
will,” she said, “be done ! I have often entreated the Lord to give me a
token of his favour before I go hence; but he leads me through this dark
path of the valley and shadow of death.” It was replied to her, you
have no reason to murmur at this, but to bear it with patience. You
are not worthy of any comfort here ; and therefore, if he think not fit to
grant you any in this dark path, his will be done. If he see it expe-
dient for you, he will not fail to grant it at last; but this is the time of
your trial, and God sees it fit to visit you, not only with bodily afflictions,
but also with affliction of spirit, for your greater purification, and to wean
your heart from the love of the world and of yourself, and to make you
more humble, and to let you see the vanity of all earthly things, which
can give no ease to a wounded spirit, and to make you thirst the more
earnestly for God, and feel that nothing can satisfy you without him.
So, in the midst of this darkness, you must still hope in God, even
against hope, resign yourself wholly to him, and ardently love him.
They tell of one of the fathers of the desert, that a devout young man
having committed himself to his conduct, to be trained up by him in a
divine life, the devil, transforming himself into an angel of light, ap-
peared to the father, and bid him be no longer solicitous in training
up that youth, for he was ordained for eternal torment. The old man
was exceedingly distressed at this; which the youth observing, entreat-
ed to know the cause of his grief, and having learned it, he said, “O
let not this trouble you, good father; for whatever may become of me
hereafter, I will only set myself to love my God the more ardently
while here, and to praise him and rejoice in his goodness.” At last
the old man was convinced it was a delusion, and was comforted. The
Countess then said, “O my good God, I will ever praise thee; I will
never cease to praise thee; I hope only in thy mercy, and in the merit
of my blessed Redeemer; I resign myself wholly to thee; I will never
cease to love thee; O take the full possession of my heart, and let never
any creature enter there any more ſ” You must not, it was again said
to her, be discouraged, if the Lord should not presently grant your re-
quest. Remember the Canaanitish woman. Jesus at first seemed to
take no notice of her; and, when prevailed upon to speak to her, he
seemed to deny her request. Yet this was but to make her faith and
prayer the more ardent. Be not then discouraged, but wait for God;
blessed are all they that wait for him. O what reason have I,” she
said, “to wait for my God, who has waited for me so long, whose pa-
tience and long-suffering have been so great towards me! Yes, my God,
I will wait: thy will be done, not mine !” Besides, it was added, you
must not despond, though God should not think fit to grant you any
344 * MEMOIRS OF
token of his favour in this world; for our Lord Jesus, to support his fol-
lowers under such inward darkness and trials, was pleasd, even upon
the cross, to suffer the eclipse of the light of his Father’s countenance,
so that this inward cross of spirit was more painful than the outward
one; which made him cry out, “My God, my God, why hast thou for-
saken me !” If he who knew no sin, yet became sin for us, underwent
such agonies to bring us to God, why should we think it strange if God
should see fit thus to bruise us, that the old man, self, and corrupt nature,
may be crucified in us . On this, the Countess said, “O my Saviour,
was this thy state O why should I complain, who deserve not the least
favour ! Did Jesus on the cross cry out, as one forsaken of his God, and
shall I complain at wanting the sense of his favour! O my God, I resign
myself wholly to thee: thy will be done, not mine. Thou canst do no-
thing amiss. I cast myself down at his feet: if I perish, it shall be
there. Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him. I will never cease
to praise him, never cease to love him.”
These conversations passed about ten or twelve days before her de-
parture out of this life; and it pleased God to give her from that time a
more quiet resignation to his will, and an humble hope in his infinite
mercy, and her heart seemed always with God, and in a Divine frame.
She had a profound view of the purity of God, combined with a deep
sense of her own wileness; and these considerations made her sometimes
despond, as being wholly unfit for communion with God. But she
would be again comforted, and say, “Yet my tongue shall never cease
to praise him while I have a being.” She had deep views also of the
approaching judgment; so that when spoken to about worldly affairs,
she would say, what signifies all this to me ! I am shortly to appear
before my Creator and Judge.”
After having been asked about her spiritual state, or after silent
prayer to God, she would sometimes express great spiritual delight ;
but she would then check herself, under an apprehension that she was
deluding herself, and say, that it was nothing but passion (meaning na-
tural emotion) in her, and not a true settled principle of religion, for she
had often had such fits of devotion before. She therefore begged ear-
nestly that God would settle a solid principle of religion in her heart;
that Christ might dwell in her heart by faith, and she might be rooted
and grounded in Divine love. She never tasted any thing without
begging God’s blessing, or having some ejaculation, as, “Most blessed
God, I do not deserve this, who am an unworthy wretch ; but thou art
good and dost good : Lord, give me thy blessing with it !”
She had a deep sense of her sins, and was desirous to take shame to
herself, and to acknowledge them before all, expressing great indigna-
tion against herself on account of them. “What value I,” said she,
“my reputation 4 I will confess my sins, for they are great and many.
I am sorry that any one should have thought me good. I loathe and
abhor myself formy sins.” There were two sins which she especially ac-
knowledged with great grief and indignation against herself. One was,
the mispending of her time in being so much taken up about the cares
and concerns of the world; the other, in extending her pity and her
hands so little in the relief of the poor. She said, that when first mar-
ried to her husband, their circumstances were but mean in the world;
yet God had since blessed them with a plentiful fortune, and that she
THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 345
had not, as she ought to have done, clothed the naked, and fed the
hungry, and relieved the miserable ; and though it was true she looked
upon herself as intrusted with all by her husband, yet, both of them
ought to have considered that they were but stewards intrusted by God,
and she might have relieved the necessitous without wronging her
husband.
She was most patient in her trouble, had nothing of fretfulness, but
was calm and easy to all about her. She expressed an ardent love to
God, and desired to be wholly his, and prayed that he might take the
entire possession of her heart. She would often say, O my God, take
thou the full possession of my soul : shed abroad thy love in my heart:
fill it with thy love ; let there be no room for the world; let nothing of
this world obtain admission, O thou my God, my Lord, my all !”
She often repeated these words, “Peace on earth, good-will to men.
O how great is thy good-will towards men ſ” She said she loved all the
world, all mankind, all her neighbours, and only hated herself.
About six or seven days before her death, she sent for her children,
that she might give them her last advice and blessing. To her son,
Lord Deskfoord, she said, that he must be as a mother to the rest, and
see to their education ; and prayed that God would bless him and di-
rect him in all his actions. If there were any worldly thing she desired,
it was that the family might stand in his person. But, checking herself,
she said, “We ought not to seek worldly “things of God,” adding,
that she was not worthy that there should be the least remembrance
of her after death. She only begged, therefore, that God would give
him a heart in every thing to love and fear him. To Lady Betty she
said, she had been her idol from her infancy, and that she had loved her
but too well. As she must now be mistress of the family, she bade her
labour for a serious and composed temper of mind. She urged it upon
her never to be idle, but always to be employed, and to spend much of
her time in praying and reading devout books. Above all things, she
charged her continually to love and fear God, and both in great things
and in small to seek counsel from him ; and she would see that all her
difficulties, on all occasions, would vanish, and God would give her wis-
dom without her knowing how ; and this, she said, she had proved by
her own experience. To Lady Janet she said, that she had to com-
plain of her temper as stubborn and perverse. She charged her to
become more gentle and kind, and in particular to be affectionate and
attentive to her sister, and to seek God with all her heart, and to look on
all the advice given to her sister as given to herself. To Master George
she said, that as he could not understand any advice she could give
him, she should only pray God to bless him, and to make him a good
man; and, calling for his governor, she charged him to instruct him in
spiritual as well as temporal things, and earnestly to inculcate them
on him. Then, looking on them all, she said, “Ye are no more mine;
ye are God’s.” After which, turning towards her mother, who was
leaning on the back part of the bed, and observing her very sorrowful,
and bitterly lamenting her approaching death, she said, “Mother, part
willingly with me, for you see I have parted willingly with mine.”
She was very anxious that her heart should have no attachment but
to God. When some inconsiderate person told her hastily that my Lord
Seafield would be there in a few hours, she felt considerable emotion ;
44
346 MEMOIRS OF
but, recovering herself, she said, “What I shall the creature yet inter-
pose between me and God! Begone, all ye creatures . I have vowed it.
I have renounced you all, and given up myself to God. I have vowed,
O Lord, that I will be entirely thine. Lord, take thou the full posses-
sion of my heart: fill every part of it with thy love.” Formerly when
her husband had returned home after a long absence, at the first meet-
ing her spirits would have been in such a commotion that she would
have fainted away. She was afraid lest any such weakness should seize
her now, and therefore still lifted up her heart to God, begging that he
would permit no creature to share in it. When her husband came first
into the room where she lay, she received him in a manner which did
not discover any emotion, asked him of his welfare, excused herself as
to conversation because of her deafness, and entreated him to retire to
his chamber to refresh himself after such a wearisome journey; and
when he had retired, she renewed her ejaculations to Heaven, and said,
“Lord, strengthen my spirit, and preserve my heart from straying one
hair-breadth from thee to any created thing, from thee, my God, my
all.” She would often say, The day of my union with thee is at hand;
Lord, make me ready. If I perish, I will perish at his feet. I will
hold him fast. Though he should slay me, yet will I love him. My
tongue shall never cease to praise him while I have a being.” The
second time her lord came to see her, she held out her hand to him
with a smile, and said, “I am no longer yours; I am God’s : God bless
you, and make you entirely his.”
She was still affected with a deep sense of her having been wanting
in due compassion and charity towards the poor. She therefore begged
of her husband that he would be pleased to erect an hospital for the
maintenance of four poor widows, of good reputation, who had children,
where they might be maintained, and live with their children till those
were capable of being put to service or a trade ; and on the decease of
any one of them, another might be put in her room. To this he readily
consented, which gave her no small satisfaction. She blessed God,
who had disposed him to consent to it so readily; and she urged him
to be rid of all public affairs and attendance on a court, as being the
bane of all inclinations to true and solid virtue.
Her heart was now wholly turned to God and to eternity; and day
and night, while she waked, for she slept but little, she spent her time
in ardent ejaculations, or in reading or hearing some portion of the holy
Scriptures with great devotion. Her son having about this time read
a letter concerning the love of God, was desirous it might be read to
her, as being well suited to the present disposition of her heart. Having
heard it with great attention, she said she had read it over two several
times before, and wished nothing more than to have her heart wholly
moulded into the love of God: she had always regarded the love of God
as the essence of religion. Having caused them to read to her our
Saviour’s farewell sermon, she said, “I shall shortly bid farewell to the
Vanities of the world, and enjoy him whom my soul loveth.” When she
awoke from her slumberings, during which she had been troubled with
Vain dreams, she said she should shortly behold the glory of God: and
she begged earnestly that she might have no thought but of him, and
that he would inspire her with his Holy Spirit, that neither sleeping
nor waking she might have any unholy or unprofitable thoughts.
THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 347
On the day she died, during a seizure of slight delirium, while she
lay apparently insensible, a minister prayed over her, blessing God that
he had turned her heart wholly unto him, and had taken possession of
it, and begging earnestly that God would rebuke Satan, and cause him
to depart from her: her spirit was immediately composed, and she broke
forth into a most devout prayer and ardent adoration of God, at which
all who were present were greatly surprised. Her husband drawing
near to her, she held forth her hand to him, and then fell into a little
delirium again. A short time after, a person present earnestly prayed
that Almighty God, the Creator of the world, would have mercy on the
work of his own hands; that Jesus Christ, the Redeemer of the world,
would save the soul that he had bought; that the Holy Ghost, the
Comforter, would support and comfort her in this her last agony. When
he had ended, she broke forth into a divine rapture of adoration and
praise with her last breath: “My Redeemer liveth : praise to the Lord:
Amen. Thou hast promised mercy; thou wilt not leave me : praise
to the Lord: Amen. Take me by the hand, O my Saviour, and lead
me through, the dark path unto the Father. O my God, leave me not.
I know, O Christ, thou wilt not leave me. Thou never didst forsake a
soul that was wholly given up to thee: praise to the Lord : Amen.
Heavenly Father, into thy merciful hands I commend my spirit. Thou
knowest that I have forsaken the world, and given my heart wholly
unto thee. Come, and take possession of it. All I had in the world,
they are thine: I give them unto thee; do thou accept of them. I
trust only in thy mercy, and in the merits of my blessed Redeemer:
praise to the Lord: Amen. Come, Lord Jesus, and lead me to the
Father. Heavenly Father, into thy merciful arms I commend my spirit.
Amen.” With these words she closed her eyes, and seemed to all pre-
sent to be yielding up her last breath ; and thus she continued for some
time, her pulse being quite gone. But in a little time she opened her
eyes again, and with an air, as it seemed, of joy and wonder, she con-
tinued looking upwards with a fixed gaze for near half an hour. By
degrees she let her eyes fall, shut them, and yielded up her last
breath. Those who were present were not a little affected both with
her last words and her last looks, which they all beheld with silent ad-
miration; and they were led to think that God had been pleased to
grant her the desire of her heart, some special mark of his favour, in her
passing out of this world, to enter, we doubt not, into the joy of her
Lord.
LADY MARGARET STEWAR.T.
º
This excellent lady was the wife of Sir Thomas Stewart of Coltness.
After the birth of her twelfth child, she found on the fourth day, that
she was attacked with a fever. Calling for her husband, she told him
her fears, both as to her sickness and her spiritual state, and begged
him to remember her condition to the Lord, entreating him not to be
peremptory for her life; “for I desire not to live,” said she, “but pray
that I die not in darkness as to my soul’s interest. The Lord hath often
heard you for deliverance to me when I have been past all hope, and
has given me to you now. I beg that the Lord would be with me, by his
power and grace, through this sickness; and if he should leave me in
this cloud, yet, I will not doubt the reality of many gracious mani-
festations of him that I have had, and how that often he had made
me sincerely to resign and give up myself heartily to him ; and now at
this time I dare not, nor will not, deny his gracious work. But O
wrestle with God for me, that I die not in darkness l?” Thus she wept
upon him, and said, “Pray not for my life, for ye will be disappointed;”
adding, “The devil is busy with me, saying, Thou art nothing but a
hypocrite, and art formal in all thou doest. But the Lord knows my
sincerity, which I hope he hath accepted.”
Her fever was as yet little observed ; but all judged that her anxiety
about her soul helped it on, being still remarked to be in spiritual ex-
ercises, and ever praying, with great confessions and whisperings.
Mr. William Violand and Mr. John Inglis came in to visit her, and
held out to her the great and unspeakable grace of God and of Christ,
revealed in the gospel to poor lost sinners. After they were gone, she
called for her husband, and said, “Blessed be God, I have never
heard any thing more refreshing, and of more power and weight.”
But the next day, her sickness increasing, she cried out to her husband,
“O for assurance, if God would grant it to a poor sinner, that is longing
and crying for it, and looking to him for it !” This she expressed with
vehemence. Her husband answered: “My dear, was not Christ al-
ways your choice, and preferable to all things" and dare you say before
God that he was not so to you, and that he hath not determined you to
make him your choice l’” She cried out more fervently, “O ! he was
ever so, he was ever so to me, emore desirable than riches, honours,
pleasures, crowns, and all things | Lord, thou knowest, whom have I
in heaven but thee, or on earth that I desire besides thee / O that I
were with thee, where I shall not sin or doubt any more, where the
weary are at rest l” Which occasioned a worthy Christian to say
to her husband, “Can you say that ever you heard her doubt after that
discourse Which indeed she did not.
The next day, she was heard to pray very long, and with fervour of
spirit; and towards the end she breathed out these words: “Lord, thou
who didst appear so wonderfully to my son, being -but ten years of
age, to the admiration of all that saw or heard him, and were witnesses
LADY MARGARET STEWART. 349
of his death ; Lord, appear to me. Oh, it is true he was but a child,
who knew not what sin was, nor could sin as I have done, who am
thirty-seven years old; but, Lord, upon whom thousettest thy love, sin
will be no stop in the way.”
The night before her death, she fell into a sweat, which continued
eight or nine hours together, so that all had good hopes it might
prove favourable; but, though she found herself thereby not a little
refreshed, yet she still said it was in vain to expect her recovery. On
hearing again from the doctors and others present, that her condi-
tion was not so dangerous as she apprehended, she called for her hus-
band, and said; “My dear, you will be surprised: quit me, for I have
quitted you, and all my children, and all the world; I long to be with
him.” The doctor said, “Would you not be willing to abide with your
husband and children, if it were the Lord’s will P She answered, “I
could submit to his will ; but oh I long to be with him: that is better
than all.” Then lifting up both her hands, she said, Now, O Lord,
I come unto thee. Thou knowest that in my health I sought thee,
though with great weakness, yet, with a sincere heart ; and how often
have I given myself up unto thee with my soul and heart ; and I have
nothing to look to in myself, but to thy free grace. O free, free love, I look
to this for mercy. I look to thy righteousness, that imputed righteous-
ness. I look to that satisfaction offered at Jerusalem for sinners. Thy
blood cried far better things than that of Abel. O blessed imputed
righteousness O blessed satisfaction I renounce my own righteous-
ness: Lord, I come unto thee: thou hast said, “Him that cometh unto
me, I will in no wise cast out.” O free love | Though one might dare to
die for a righteous man, yet, our Lord died for his enemies. O won-
derful love | Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love
thee : I must not quit my hold of thee.”
She insisted long on such expressions to the commendation of free
grace; and that with such fewency, as if her spirit would have gone
forth with her words. She was heard to say, “Lord, thou hast given
me twelve children, and the third I gave unto thee, and thou tookest
him ; and my seventh child I gave unto thee, and thou tookest him,
and his sister also ; and this my twelfth child I have given unto the
Lord ; the Lord bless him ; yea, and all my children I have given
unto the Lord as soon as they were born, and long before they were
born ; and I have desired from the Lord for them these two things only,
that they may fear him, and that he may put his image on them. I
never sought riches nor honour unto them, but that the Lord would in
his good providence dispose them to employments and callings, whereby
they may live honestly, and not be burdensome to friends.” But such
as were about her, hearing her speak so easily, and still hoping that she
might recover, prayed her to be silent and take rest. Whereupon she
raised her voice and said: Sirs, can ye believe this that I am ts tell you ?
This night I shall be with my son John. What is this I am saying of my
son I will be this night with my God and my Lord Jesus Christ, and
that holy and glorious company.”
After this, she again assured those that were present that her end was
near; but it could not be believed that it was so near,there being no out-
ward sign from which this nearness could be concluded. Many had
hopes, hearing her say to the doctor, For all this, my head is well, and I
350 MEMOIRS OF
find my heart whole.” She was entreated to sleep, and not waste her
weak and wearied spirits; but she refused, saying, “Shall I sleep now,
when I am going to die! I assure you, if I fall asleep, I shall never come
out of it again :” which, indeed, a very few hours did remarkably verify.
At the same time, she said to her husband, “My dear, you will be sur-
prised.” Then she added with more garnestness to the rest, “Would
you hinder me to speak now, when I have not above an hour to speak in
this world!” Which one present hearing, took out his watch, and show-
ed to some standing by, who all said that it fell out just as she had fore-
told. But being again importuned to take rest, in respect that many still
hoped, because she had little or no pain, she said, with a whole and sound
voice, “Sirs, I tell you that this night, when your sun goes down, my
sun will arise and never go down : your sun will both arise and set upon
you, but my sun will never go down O bright morning star !” After
this, resolving to speak to her children and relations, she raised up her-
self as if she had had no sickness, but had been to go about some work
in health, and called for some rose-water and vinegar, saying, “Let me
refresh my spirits, that are weak, for what I have to do.” She bathed
with her own hands her temples and face, and breathed up some vine-
gar into her nostrils; and having entreated all to go out of the room
except her husband and children, she spoke to her children that were
come to years of maturity, one by one. Taking up their natural dispo-
sitions, she wisely pressed them to pray, and guard against such sins
whereunto they might be inclined, speaking to each of them so parti-
cularly and pertinently. Then she spoke to them of Christian duties,
whereof she enjoined the practice, with many godly persuasions; and
then she exhorted them against many vices and evils with great
authority, commanding them that they should abstain from vain com-
pany, and that they should stand to their education, as they had been
taught; adding, “Though you have not fallen into outward pollutions,
yet that is nothing : ‘let him that stands, take heed lest he fall.” I
say to you before the Lord, Your sins, God shall set them in order before
you; yea, you shall see them in the great day of the Lord as clearly
set before you as the light that shines.” Then speaking to them of
their learning and studies, she said; “As for learning and philosophy,
fear lest it have the effect on you it hath on some, to turn you Atheists,
or without religion. All the greatness, all the learning in the world,
what is it without grace | Remember that word, ‘Not many noble,
not many mighty, not many wise are called.” I say not this to discou-
rage you from reading and learning; but let it not make you neglect
your duty. And I lay it upon you, and charge you before God, and as
you would meet me again with comfort, be diligent in reading the
Scriptures and prayer. And satisfy not yourselves with your morning
and evening prayers; but I charge you in the sight and presence of God,
not to judge your religion to be true and sincere, if it carry you no fur-
ther than morning and evening prayers. In all these things, I say to
you, that I shall be a witness against you. Look not on these things,
and what I say now, as upon instructions and reproofs given at another
time. The words that I have spoken, are the words of a dying mother.
I pray the Lord ye may never forget them; which if ye observe and do,
God's blessing be upon you, and my blessing I leave you.” And then
she added, “I have good thoughts concerning you;” and removing her
*** ***
LADY MARGARET STEWAR.T. 351
hand from off their heads, where she put it while she blessed them, she
thus parted with them, kissing and blessing them.
After this, she spoke to her husband with all kindness and tenderness,
saying, he had been a kind husband to her, entreating him to quit her
freely, and giving him many advices concerning the children; desiring
that, as he feared the Lord, so he would encourage them. After that,
she called for her mother and sisters, who were all present, and gave
them many directions and counsels; suiting them, with a holy pru-
dence and discretion, both to their inclinations and conditions. Then,
thanking every one of them, as they had been useful to her, and beg-
ging pardon for the trouble she had given, she exhorted them to a holy
diligence in praying and reading the Scriptures, and entreated them to
guard against all sin. Then she besought them not to set their hearts
too much upon any temporal enjoyment, for they knew not when the
Lord might take it from them; and entreated them to make good use
of their time, saying, “ This day will come upon you, and you know
not how soon you will be in my condition.” Thus she bade them fare-
well, with many earnest blessings and mutual embracings, and with
such tenderness and tears on their part as cannot be expressed. After
which, with great sweetness and meekness, she closed her farewell with
these words: Now I entreat you, be kind to one another, tender-hearted,
forgiving one another; and be of one mind, and live in peace, and the
God of love and peace shall be with you.” After this, she said: “I have
many times besought the Lord that death might be no surprise to me,
and neither is it ; and I have prayed likewise that death might not be a
terror to me, and neither is it ; and I have sought that I may not be ter-
rible to others in dying.” And that the Lord did very sensibly grant,
as we shall hereafter hear. And, to show her great composure of mind,
she also gave orders about several little circumstances both of her death
and burial, suitable to that most exact modesty which was so eminent
in all her life. g
She, being now very weak, called for her father-in-law, and putting
forth her hand to him, said: Hold my hand, for I cannot hold yours.”
Then added, “You have been a very kind father unto me; I say, a very
kind, affectionate father unto me: I cannot say any more, but the Lord
requite you.” Then, turning to her other relations, she took leave of
them, and said unto a friend, with whose wife her daughters were at
that time : “Sir, you will tell my two girls, that I remembered them,
that they should diligently seek and serve the Lord, and make conscience
of reading the Scriptures; and the Lord’s blessing be upon them.” And
so she took leave of him, desiring him that he would remember her to
his worthy wife. After this, she called for the young man that waited
upon the children, and said unto him : “You have a great charge upon
you now, both of the souls and bodies of the children; for my husband
will be taken up with his affairs, and I fear will not be long behind me.”
Then she said, “I have nothing now to do but one thing ;” and, turn-
ing to her husband, continued, You have been a dear husband to me, but
I am going to a dearer. I entreat you, weep not for me: I shall be better.
And now resign my soul unto God.” He being in great grief, said,
“My dear, I dare not, I cannot; the minister will do it.” Whereupon
she said calmly, “Let the minister pray.” After prayer, she said again
to her husband, “My dear, resign my soul to God: you must do it,
352 MEMOIRS OF LADY STEWART.
and quit me, for I have resigned my soul to God already. I had it from
God, and I have given it back again to him.” So her husband obeyed
her, and did resign her solemnly, being greatly helped of God in the
action, and she holding up her weak hands all the time. Prayer being
ended, she embraced him with both her arms. After which, she fell
asleep again, being heard quietly to breathe out these words, “O feeling
High Priest I keep that which I have committed to thee.”
She most peaceably died in the Lord, and that so precisely at the going
down of the sun, as she had foretold, that, while they were shutting
her eyes, some, remembering her words, ran to the window, and told,
that part of the sun was just setting and sinking out of sight. Another
who was not present, nor heard her words, but hearing the cry at her
death, came in, and told that it so happened at the same time.
She lived thirty-seven years. We can give no greater commendation
than the brilliant testimony which her life and death render mutually
to each other in this true and just comparison: as she lived, so she died;
and as she died, so she lived, and lives for evermore. This is indeed
her true character; and all who knew her, and were eye-witnesses to
her life and death, must revere her memory.
Mr. William Violand, who wrote this Memoir, was minister of Cam-
busnethan, the parish in which Coltness is, in 1684.

M. R. S. R. E. B E C C A C O M B E.
—-º
MRs. REBEccA CoMBE was the eldest daughter of the Rev. David
Clarkson, the author of an excellent volume of sermons and discourses.
She had the invaluable advantage of a religious education, both her
parents being eminent for wisdom and grace. Under the instructions
of her good mother, she had early and frequent convictions; which,
however, soon wore off. But these convictions being renewed as she
grew up, it was impressed on her mind, that this way of performing
duties, by fits and starts, merely to quiet an accusing conscience, would
not satisfy the desires of an innmortal soul, capable of higher enjoyments.
This put her on serious thoughtfulness what method to pursue, in order
to bind herself to a more stated performance of those duties which she
was convinced the Lord required of her. Accordingly, she made a
most solemn resolution to address herself to God by prayer, both morning
and evening, and never, on any occasion whatever, to neglect it, calling
the Lord to witness against her if she broke this solemn engagement.
But alas ! she soon saw the vanity of such resolutions for the perform-
ance of duty only through fear, and as a task. Having once omitted
it at the set time, she concluded her promise was now broken, and from
that time continued in a total neglect of prayer, till it pleased the Al-
mighty Spirit to return with his powerful operations, and set her sins in
order before her. Then her unsuitable carriage under former convic-
tions, together with breaking the most solemn engagements to the Lord,
wounded her deeply. Indeed, she was tempted to conclude she had
sinned the unpardonable sin, and should never be forgiven. Yet, in
this distress and anguish of spirit, she could not give up all hope, hav-
ing some views of the free and sovereign grace of God, as extended to
the vilest and worst of sinners, though she could not take the comfort
of it to herself. Her sins appeared exceeding sinful. She even loathed
and abhorred herself on account of them, and was continually begging
a deeper sense and greater degrees of humiliation. She thought she
could have been content, yea, desirous to be filled with the utmost hor-
ror and terror, if this might be a means of bringing her to that degree
of sorrow which she apprehended the Lord expected from so vile a crea-
ture. The heinous nature of her sins, and their offensiveness to the
pure eyes of his holiness, was ever before her, insomuch that she thought
she could not be too deeply wounded, or feel trouble enough. This put
her on a constant and restless application to God through Christ, from
whom alone she saw all her help must come. Convinced that an ex-
pectation of some worthiness in herself, as the condition of her accep-
tance before God, was that which had kept her so long from Christ and
the free promises of the gospel, she went to the Lord, and pleaded those
absolute promises of his word, which are made freely to sinners in his
Son, without the least qualification on their part. She was enabled to
urge those encouraging words, Rev. xxii. 17, “Let him that is athirst
come, and whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.” Also
45
354 MEMOIRS OF
Isa. lv. 1, “Without money and without price;” with many more of the
like nature. She now desired to come to Christ, unworthy as she was,
and cast her soul entirely upon him, for she now saw all her past doings
of no account in the sight of a holy God. There was nothing left,
therefore, for her to take the least comfort and encouragement from,
but the free grace of God in Christ Jesus, which continuing to plead
with much earnestness, she found her soul enlarged beyond whatever
she had formerly experienced.
Soon after, being in her father’s study, she providentially opened a
manuscript, and cast her eye upon a part of it, where he was showing
what pleas a convinced sinner might make use of in prayer. Many
things were mentioned which were very reviving. “I am miserable,
and that might be a plea. I might also plead his own mercy, the suita-
bleness, the largeness, and the freeness of his mercy. I might plead
my own inability to believe, of which I am very sensible. I might also
plead the will of God, for he commands sinners to believe, and is highly
dishonoured by unbelief. I might likewise plead the descent of faith,
—it is the gift of God; and the nature of this gift, which is free Yea,
I might plead the examples of others who have obtained this gift, and
that against the greatest unlikelihood and improbabilities that might
be. I might and could plead further, my willingness to submit to any
thing, so that I might but find this favour with the Lord. Moreover,
I might plead Christ's prayer, and his compassions; the work of his
Spirit already begun; that regard which the Lord shows to irrational
creatures: he hears their cries, and will he shut out the cries of a poor
perishing sinner In short, I might plead my necessity and extreme
need of faith, a sense of which was deeply impressed on my soul.”
On reading these pleas, which are excellently enlarged on in her
father’s volume of sermons and discourses before mentioned, (page 123,
&c.) she found great relief; they were to her as a voice from heaven,
saying, “This is the way, walk ye in it.” She was enabled to exer-
cise faith in a Redeemer, and to give up all to him, being now con-
vinced by his Spirit, that he would work in her what was well pleas-
ing and acceptable to God, and that he required nothing of her but
what his free rich grace would bestow.
Now was Christ exceeding precious to her soul, and she longed for
clearer disoveries of him, both in his person and offices, as Prophet,
Priest, and King. How did she admire his condescending love and
grace to such a poor, wretched, worthless creature | She desired that
every faculty of her soul might be brought into an entire obedience.
In short, she could now perceive a change wrought in her whole soul.
Those things which she delighted in before, were her greatest burden.
Thus she went on pleasantly in duty; her meditation on him was
sweet, and her heart much enlarged in admiring his inexpressible love
and free and sovereign grace.
But this delightful frame did not long continue : soon did vain
thoughts arise and disturb her most solemn approaches to God: these
violent hurries of temptation greatly staggered her faith, which was
weak. Hereupon she was ready to give up all, and conclude that she
had mocked God, and cheated her own soul; that these wandering
thoughts, and this unfixedness of mind in duty, could never consist
with a sincere love to the things of God. But these discouragements
MRS. REBECCA COMBE. 355
were fully removed by reading some of her father’s writings, where it
was observed, that a person had no reason to conclude his sins more,
increased, because they appeared more and became more troublesome
since this arose from the opposition they now met with from that prin-
ciple of grace which was implanted. Hence she learned, that before
this, the flesh reigned quietly, and therefore she perceived not the lusts
thereof; but now all the powers and faculties of her soul were en-
gaged against them, and that therefore they gave her the greatest
disturbance. Also these words were impressed on her mind with an ef-
ficacious power, 2 Cor. xii. 9, “My grace is sufficient for thee,”
which gave her peace in believing that it should be according to his
word.
Thus, after many conflicts, comforts, and supports, she determiued
to partake of the Lord's Supper, and have her faith confirmed in the
blood of that everlasting covenant which the Lord had made with her,
since he had given his Spirit as the earnest thereof. In coming to the
ordinance of the Lord’s Supper, she found great delight; her faith
was strengthened, and her love increased from that sweet communion
she then enjoyed with the Lord by his blessed Spirit, who often filled
her with joy unspeakable and full of glory. Thus she walked under
the comfortable sense of his love ; and whilst in the way of duty, was
indulged with such sights of the Redeemer’s glory, and such a taste
of his grace, that she frequently wished she might never more go
back to the world.
But, after her marriage to Mr. Combe, the new temptations, inci-
dent to her new relation, brought her into great and perplexing dark-
ness. She lost the sense of the love of God, and hence duty was
performed without that delight she once experienced, which made
her often neglect it, and especially in private, whilst she attended on
public worship with little advantage or pleasure. The consideration
of this decay in her love, and the loss of those quickening influences
of the Spirit, which she used to experience in duty, increased her dole-
ful apprehensions of her state. Her inordinate love to the creature
was soon rebuked; for a disorder seized her husband, which issued in
a deep consumption. This afflictive stroke did not, however, appear to
have its proper effect on her mind: she continued in an unsuitable
temper, and without that submission which such a dispensation called
for. The Lord still hid his face from her, and it is impossible to give a
particular account of those perplexing thoughts and tormenting fears
which filled her mind. Every thing appeared dreadfully dark both
within and without She says, “O ! were it possible to describe it to
others, as I then felt, they would dread that which will separate be-
tween them and God I expected, if the Lord did return, it would be in
a terrible way, by some remarkable judgment or other; but often-
times, from the frame I was in, I could see no ground to hope he would
ever return at all.” But God was better to her than her fears; he who
manifested himself to his servant Moses, appeared in a remarkable
manner for her deliverance, and that it even transported her very soul
with love and thankfulness beyond any thing she had experienced in
the whole of her past life.
The beginning of this wonderful alteration in her frame, was hearing
the experience of one resembling very much her own, when the Lord
356 MEMOIRS OF MRS. COMBE.
first began to work on her soul. She concluded that this person was the
subject of a real and total change. On this occasion, she determined
to consider herformer experience; in doing which, she found the blessed
Spirit of all grace assisting, and witnessing to his work upon her heart,
insomuch that her soul was enlarged in thankfulness to God for thus
manifesting himself, and directing her to those means which he had so
inexpressibly blessed beyond her expectation.
This valuable Christian lived to a good old age. She was confined
by illness for four years before her death; during which she maintained
habitual converse with God, and longed much for the time when all
hinderances and restraints should be for ever removed. She slept in
Jesus, Nov. 20, 1744, aged 79 years, and her remains were interred in
Bunhill Fields.
MRS. GERTRUDE CLARKSON.
MRs. GERTRUDE CLARKSON, second daughter of the Rev. David
Clarkson, was also a woman of an excellent spirit. The constant in-
struction and example of her parents had so early an influence, that it
is hard to tell when was her first awakening. As soon as reason dawn-
ed, she had frequent convictions of the danger of sin and of an unrege-
nerate state, attended with fears of the punishment due to it. This
made her fearful of omitting duties, or committing known sins; and
though these convictions wore off, yet they often returned, and ren-
dered her uneasy, unless she was praying or learning scriptures, or
something which she thought good. In these exercises she continued
to be well satisfied. Before she knew what it was to rely upon an all-
sufficient Saviour for righteousness and strength, her notion of things
was, that she was to hear, and pray, and keep the Sabbath, and avoid
what she knew to be sin, and then she thought God was obliged to save
her; that she did what she could, and so all that he required. And
she further conceived, that if at any time she omitted secret prayer, or
any other duty, yet, if she repented, it was sufficient. On this consi-
deration, she often ventured upon the commission of sin, with a resolu-
tion to repent the next day; and then, having confessed the transgres-
sion, her conscience has been easy. She truly desired that her sins
might be pardoned, but thought the ways of religion hard; and though
she durst not live in the constant neglect of duty, yet she secretly wished
there had been no obligation to perform it.
After her father’s death, she happened to be reading one of his ma-
nuscripts, wherein both the object and the nature of saving faith were
described, and the great necessity of it pressed, &c.” The plain and
clear definition there given of the saving act of faith, caused other ap-
prehensions of things than she had had before. She then began to see
how short she had come, in all her performances, of that disposition of
soul which the gospel calls for, and how guilty she was while depend-
ing upon these performances for acceptance with God, not casting her-
self wholly and alone upon Christ, and resting on his righteousness
entirely for pardon and justification. The concern of her mind was
very great, that she had lived so long ignorant of those things which
related to her eternal welfare. She was sensible that the means and
helps she had been favoured with, for improvement in knowledge, were
beyond what is common, and that she had refused instruction; the
consideration of which was very terrible to her, fearing lest, she had
sinned beyond all hope of forgiveness. But, under the most discourag-
ing apprehensions of her case, her heart was much enlarged in the
confession of sin, and in bewailing her captivity to it, which was attend-
ed with earnest wrestlings with the Lord for pardoning and purifying
grace. Those absolute promises in the xxxvith chapter of Ezekiel,
* It is remarkable, that these discourses concerning faith, contained in their father's volume
of sermons, were greatly blessed to both daughters after his death.
358 MEMOIRS OF
of “a new heart and right spirit,” were her continual plea, together with
Matt. vi. 6, “Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteous-
ness, for they shall be filled.”
She was under these convictions a long time before any comfortable
persuasion came that she was accepted. She could not tell how to be-
lieve that iniquities, committed as hers had been, against so much light,
could be forgiven. But, in the midst of these distressing thoughts, she
found in the same manuscript of her father’s, that none but unwor-
thy sinners, who are empty of all good in themselves, are the objects of
pardoning mercy; that the whole need not a physician, but the sick.
This encouraged her to plead, with hope, that the Lord would glorify
the freeness of his own grace in her salvation.
About this time, her mother, perceiving her concern, conversed very
freely with her, and asked her whether she was not willing to accept
of Christ to sanctify as well as to save her. She answered, “I desire
this above all things.” Her mother replied that, if so, Christ had cer-
tainly accepted of her; adding, that it was He who had made her will-
ing to close with him, and that he never made any soul thus willing
whom he had not first pardoned and accepted. A mother’s words are
at all times heard by an obedient daughter with attention, but, on the
present occasion, to use her own words, she felt as if it was a pardon
sent immediately from Heaven. She could not but say, “I am above
all things desirous to be entirely subject to Christ in every power and
faculty of my soul, that every thought might be brought into subjection
to Christ, and nothing might remain in me contrary to him, but that
there might be a perfect conformity to his image and will in all things.”
After this conversation, she found great composure in her mind, be-
lieving that the Lord had created those desires in her, which nothing
but himself, and the enjoyment of him, could satisfy ; and that he
would not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax.” The
ordinances, which were once irksome, were now above all things plea-
sant, and the return of Sabbaths continually longed for. And she longed
for that state wherein all these fetters should be knocked off, and her
soul set at liberty in the worship and praise of God, being freed from
corruptions within or temptations without.
At this time her mother was persuading her to receive the Lord’s Sup-
per, which greatly startled her at first. She thought there must be
something more in her, or she should eat and drink damnation to her-
self. This is a usual device of the devil’s, to prevent true believers from
approaching the Lord’s table, suggesting that they must see themselves
more worthy and prepared before they venture on this solemn ordinance.
Whereas, in fact, that person comes most worthily to Christ and his ta-
ble too, who is made most sensible of his own unworthiness. But being
better informed both as to the nature and end of the ordinance, and that
it was intended for the increase of grace and strength, and that it was
a positive command of her Lord, with whose will in all things she was
very desirous to comply, she was at last prevailed with to venture on
that solemn ordinance, and was much refreshed and satisfied in her en-
larged expectations of receiving all needful supplies from him who is
the Head of the church. tº ºs
But after some time her affections began to cool, and she want of
the Lord’s presence under the means, in the use of which he had com-
MRS. GERTRUDE CLARKSON. 359
manded her to expect it, and which he had heretofore, in some measure,
vouchsafed, was very grievous. She earnestly begged a discovery of
every sin that might be hid from her, and which might be the cause of
this withdrawing. After some time, being providentially brought to
hear the Rev. Thomas Gouge, she found the preaching of this excel-
lent divine so suited to her case, that she was greatly enlarged in
thankfulness to God, who had so directed her. Those sermons upon
Gal. vi. 3, “For if a man thinketh himself something when he is
nothing, he deceiveth himself;” though she had heard him before with
great satisfaction, brought her to a resolution of sitting under his min-
istry. Speaking of these discourses, she says, “They razed me again
to the very foundation, and discovered the many secret holds Satan had
in my heart, which before I thought not of, and how many ways I was
taken up in something which was nothing.” The insisting on such
truths as have a direct tendency to lead from self to Christ, by opening
and unfolding the mysteries of grace laid up in him, so admirably suit-
ed to answer all the necessities of poor helpless guilty creatures, she
found above all things encouraging and enlivening.
This excellent woman died in London, April 23, 1701. Her funeral
sermon was preached and printed by Dr. Ridgley, who, among other
things, observes the following concerning her : That her mind was
rightly informed, and richly furnished with experimental knowledge of
the things of Christ,and of the work of grace carried on with power in her
soul. And although she had sometimes a well-grounded hope, yea, a
full persuasion of the love of God ; yet, so far was this from leading
her to pride or carnal security, that it can scarce be conceived what low
thoughts she had of self, and what a deep sense of the power of indwell-
ing sin, or with what sorrow she lamented the same ; what a firm de-
pendence on Christ, as able to do nothing without him, how watchful
over her actions and thoughts, and how much afraid of sin, even of the
iniquity of her holy things. There was in her conversation a becoming
mixture of gravity and pleasantness, not daring on the one hand to
make things sacred a prey to the exuberances of wit and fancy; nor, on
the other, of giving the least occasion to their false conceit, who suppose
that religion always chooses the dark retreat of a melancholy temper, or is
directly opposite to what is cheerful or agreeable in common conversation.
Her last sickness was short. She was on a sudden seized with a
very painful distemper,” which she perceived to be the harbinger of
death ; but when it made its nearest approaches, she declared it was
welcome. She did not flee from it as an enemy, nor see any thing af-
frighting in its countenance. When all about her were almost over
whelmed with grief, she was the only person that seemed unconcerned,
being as willing to be gone as death was to call. Though her pain was
violent for many hours, and very much hindered the desired composure
of her thoughts, yet in this she was submissive to the Divine will,
and patient under his hand. But it pleased God to give her ease the re-
maining part of her time, when she took occasion to express the inward
joy that she experienced. When cordials were applied for the refresh-
ment of weak and fainting nature, she said, that “she had better cor-
dials to refresh her than those.” 2.
*The colic, which carried her offin four days.
360 MEMOIRS OF MRS. CLARKSON.
The last wo days of her life, she seemed wholly unconcerned about,
and quite disengaged from, any thing in this world, as one that had
taken her leave of every thing here below, and was at leisure for no-
thing but heavenly contemplations. Her discourse was very affecting.
Whenever she spoke of herself, it was in the most humble expressions.
But how often did she extol and admire the love of God in Christ The
same truths that she was refreshed with in life, were her comfort and
delight in death. She had the self-same abasing, yea, self-abhorring
and grace-advancing thoughts. She had a full assurance of salvation,
and of an abundant entrance, with a kind of triumph administered into
it, often speaking in the words of the apostle, 2 Tim. i. 12, “I know
whom I have believed, and I am persuaded that he is able to keep that
which I have committed unto him against that day.” And with joy
- unspeakable, making use of those words with application to herself,
Jude, verse 24, “Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling,
- and to présent you faultless before the presence of his glory with ex-
ceeding joy.” Her inward peace was too great to be expressed. When
nature was very weak, and her strength and spirits exhausted, she
blessed God that her faith did not fail ; and she had thereby those clear
manifestations of Christ, and soul-refreshing prelibations of glory, that
were a kind of heaven in her way to it. Her last words were, with rap-
ture of admiration, “O those rays of glory !” Thus her soul took its
flight into the bosom of Jesus, to enjoy what it had long waited for,
namely, further discoveries of his love, and to be clothed with immor-
tality, and enjoy eternal life.
... *These words were the subject of her funeral discourse, being often repeated by her in her
illness, and a wonderful support to faith in her last moments.
Miss MARY TERRY.
THIS excellent young person was born at Hamburgh, in Germany,
where her father had settled on account of trade. In the year 1698,
when she was only eight years old, an afflictive providence obliged her
to come with her little brother and sister to England, she being the
eldest of three, whom it pleased God at that time to commit to the
care of their pious grandmother. She observes, in her diary, the good-
ness of God in giving them a prosperous voyage, and then makes the
following remark : “I hope God has turned this affliction to our spi-
ritual good, for here we have the help of a better education, and here
religion is kept up more in the purity and power of it, than it was in
the place from whence we came.” By this means, says the Rev.
Thomas Reynolds, who gives the account, she came under my per-
sonal observation and ministry. At this very early age, it was as-
tonishing to remark the large stock of good instructions and devout
prayers wherewith she had furnished her memory, and how diligent
she was to retain them by often repeating those good things that had
been taught her, and taking care that her little brother and sister did
the like. About the eleventh year of her age, she learned to write ;
and no sooner could she join her letters, than (as we found after her
death) she would write down the heads of those sermons which af-
fected her, and which she carefully carried home in her memory.
In the same year, she was taken very ill of a fever, in which, as she
writes, she was much afraid to die, as fearing the state of her soul was
not safe. This made her seriously think within herself, how impor-
tunately she would pray, and how much better she would discharge
her duty, if God should spare her. ... And then she adds: “It hath
pleased the Lord to try me, in raising me from that sick-bed, that I
should not die, but declare the works of the Lord.” This is the only
instance' she gives of any notable distress of mind; and when she
recovered she made good her vows. “I cannot,” says Mr. Reynolds,
“lay the beginning of her conversion here; for such was her seriousness
and unblameable behaviour, that I doubt not the grace of God had
touched her heart long before this.” It is the happiness many times
of those that enjoy the advantage of a religious education, and have
been kept from falling into grievous sins, to be brought by insensible
steps into a love of religion, so that they know not how to date the par-
ticular time of their conversion. A.
In the year 1703, which was the thirteenth of her age, it pleased
God to remove by death her only brother, Richard, whom she dearly
loved, and on whom she had bestowed much pains. Though she was
much affected at his death, she blesses God she did not sorrow as those
that have no hope; and then adds: “God had been early at work
upon his heart. This was a great affliction to us all, and to my grand-
mother especially: for by taking him away, God rooted the name out
of the family, there being never another to bear it up.” *
46
362 MEMOIRS OF
“The reader will forgive the digression,” continues the writer of
her life, “if I take leave in this place to mention somewhat of him. He
was a child deservedly admired by all for his natural beauty, and the
engaging sweetness of his temper and carriage. But that which was
most of all to be wondered at, was the pious disposition of mind that so
early appeared in him. As his sister was not wanting to do all she
could to improve him, so was he as ready to receive impressions. He
was a child that read much, and thought much, and spent much of his
time in walking and pondering by himself. He could never be found
without some good book or other in his pocket, even when he was but
little above five years old. He was constant to his retirements for
secret duty. But that which deserves a particular remark, was the
concern which this young child had some time before he died, for the
spiritual welfare of an aged faithful servant that had been above forty
years in the family, and who by weakness was confined to her chamber,
having passed the seventieth year of her age. This little child, when
not eight years old, would take delight to be with her, and, of his own
accord, discourse of the things of God, and pray with her ; in which, as
that servant said, he would deliver himself so pertinently, and in such
an affecting manner, as was wonderful. He continued thus till she died,
and was hereby no small help and comfort to that poor servant. ‘Thus,
O Lord, out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou perfect-
ed praise!” He died October 13, 1703, in the tenth year of his age.”
Soon after this, it pleased God to exercise her with great deafness
through a violent cold which lay much in her head: it lasted near two
months, all which time she enjoyed little of the comfort of life. But
her greatest trouble was, that hereby she was hindered the privilege of
joining with others in any public or private ordinances, though, as she
writes, it was also melancholy not to have converse with friends. She
adds: “I was earnest with God in prayer, that he would, if it were his
holy will, direct to some proper means, and give his blessing thereto,
and again restore the hearing ear.” Which, after about two months,
he was pleased to grant; and then she says: “O, blessed be God that
I have all my senses, and am not deprived of any | By the loss of one,
how is the comfort of all abated I hope I have been taught how to
prize them more than ever. The Lord sanctify this late exercise to me,
and enable me to make some suitable return for this mercy, to glorify him
"in all the parts, members, and senses of my body, and all the powers
and faculties of my soul.”
In the year 1705, God wrought in her earnest desires to partake of
the ordinance of the Lord's Supper ; but Satan was very busy with his
temptations. The account which she gives of the workings of her
mind at this period, is highly interesting and instructive, especially
when we consider her extreme youth. Speaking of the false shame
which at first deterred her, she says; “I thought, if this should pre-
vail to hinder me in my approaches to that ordinance, it would evince I
had not a right principle of love to God, nor a sense of my obligation aris-
ing from the positive institution of Christ, and from my baptismal cove-
nant, which hath already bound me up to all duty; also it would argue
ignorance in me of the abundant advantage that would flow to me from
a right discharge of my duty, and an answerable coversation in perform-
ing the engagements thereby laid upon me to all holy walking.
MISS MARY TERRY. 363
iº,
“At another time, the devil and my corrupt heart suggested to me,
that although I did give myself to God in the most solemn manner, and
by his grace did resolve to walk in all his commandments; yet, how
well soever I might begin, I should not be able to persevere to the end;
but in prosperity I should be ready to be puffed up, and forget my God;
and in adversity be overmuch depressed and cast down, or be over-
anxious and solicitous about the body, and neglect the duties and con-
cerns of my soul. I was afraid lest the temptations of the devil, the flat-
teries and allurements of the world, the vanities and pleasures to which
youth is commonly addicted, should overtake and betray me into pre-
sumptuous sins. But amidst all these troubles of mind, I met with that
comfortable promise in the covenant of God, Jer. xxxii. 38, ‘And they
shall be my people, and I will be their God.” And in the 40th verse it
is said again : “And I will make an everlasting covenant with them,
that I will not turn away from them to do them good; but I will put
my fear in their hearts, that they shall not depart from me.’ I place my
hope and trust on God’s fulfilling this promise to me, that he will, nay
I hope he hath already begun to implant his fear my heart, so that not-
withstanding all the opposition I may meet with in my way, I shall
never depart from him.
“Another temptation was, that I was too young to approach that
solemn ordinance. With this I considered, that those advanced more
in years cannot, merely by their natural gifts and qualifications, per-
form any duty in a right manner, so as to be accepted with God in
Christ, without the influences of His grace and Spirit accompanying
their endeavours; with which grace He can also, and doth, assist
younger persons that are earnest in begging it of Him, and who serve
Him in sincerity and truth, which I desire to do with all my heart and
soul: and therefore I trust that God will not deny me His assistance.
And as no small motive and 'spur to me in my preparations for his ordi-
nance, I had the example of an acquaintance before me, even younger
than myself, who, upon making known her desires, was admitted a com-
municant under the care of the same ministry.
“After all, I was satisfied, that these and all other such like sugges-
tions, which would divert and put me by making preparations for this
ordinance, were Satan’s stratagems. I begged of God, that He would
be pleased to remove all obstructions and hinderances that seemed to lie
in the way, and prepare my heart for a right attendance upon him in
so solemn, a duty, knowing that the preparation of the heart in man is
from the Lord.
“In the year 1706, I made timely discovery of my desires, and some
suitable preparation, according as I was able, in order to my being
admitted the following April to the Lord's table. I chose this month,
it being the entrance upon a new year of my life. I thought, that to
lay myself under new bonds and obligations to walk in God's ways in the
beginning of a new year of my life, might be a means to walk this
year more closely with God, and to maintain my communion with him
in a holy and humble manner. *.
“The Monday before Sacrament-day, the Lord was pleased to visit
my sister with a fever. I thought God was now displeased at some-
thing in me, and going to indicate his displeasure, not only by threat-
ening to take away my sister from me; but also, by the timing of it, I
364 MEMOIRS OF
was afraid he would disappoint me, in his providence, of my longing
expectations and earnest desires on the approaching Lord’s-day. But
the Lord was better to me than my fears, and mitigated his hand, and
gave us a hopeful prospect of recovery; for which his name be praised.
Hereby also he gave me hopes of having yet an opportunity of waiting
upon him on his own day at his house and table.”
April 7, 1706. “Being aged this month sixteen years, I was, at my
desire, this 7th instant, it being Lord’s-day, admitted to the participa-
tion of the Lord’s Supper. Therein I enjoyed some sweet communion
with my God; but my greatest joy and comfort at this time, was when
. I came home, upon reflecting on what I had been doing, and my
reviewing the sermon which was preached that afternoon from these
words, Isa. lxiii. 19, “We are thine.” Wherein, among other things,
were shown the special grounds upon which persons may be said to be
the Lord’s ; as, by election ; by price and purchase ; by effectual call-
ing, and the work of regeneration ; and by their own act of self-dedica-
tion or covenant-surrender. Upon all these grounds I hoped I might
now, with comfort, look up and say, Lord, I am thine !”
January 4, 1708. “I renewed my covenant with God at the Lord’s-
table. It being the first Sacrament in this year, I had a special regard
both in my preparations and in the ordinance to a new year, and resolve
and engage to take more pains with myself, and to study my duty more,
and do more for God than ever I had done ; and I was earnestly desi-
rous that this whole year, if God should spare my life, I might enjoy more
of him, have more communion with him in every duty, which some-
times I have found very sweet, so that in the whole this may be a bet-
ter year with respect both to duty and comfort. That I might bring
forth much fruit, and may be found a faithful steward whenever God
shall call me to an account of my stewardship, whether this year or
another, in the strength and for the sake of Jesus Christ.”
It is to be observed, that in the close of this year she died.
It only remains, that we give a short account of her death. Such
was the violence of her distemper, that it carried her offin less than five
days. She found herself somewhat indisposed for several mornings
before she took her bed; but this did not hinder her from appearing in
the family, and being about the house as usual. But on Friday, the 3d
of December, she became very ill, her distemper proving a malignant
fever. She bore her sickness with extraordinary patience, speaking but
little, yet exercising her thoughts much towards God. The greatest
trouble she complained of was, that she could not meditate and compose
her thoughts as she had been used to do. When, among other things,
she was asked, if she had not experienced the presence of God in his
ordinances, and found communion with him in her attendances upon
him, she immediately replied, “Yes, yes; you can say nothing of that
kind but I can give an answer to.” The day she died, which was De-
cember 8, 1708, finding the pangs of death upon her, she expressed
some fear how she should be able to get through what was before her,
for that she found dying work to be hard work. But it pleased the
Lord quickly to release her of those fears; for no sooner had the minis-
ter who came to visit her withdrawn from the bed, than she fell into a
MISS MARY TERRY. 365
convulsion fit, in which she departed, having not finished by some months
the eighteenth year of her age. *
“Watch ye, therefore, for ye know not when the master of the house
cometh, at evening, or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the
morning : lest coming suddenly, he find you sleeping.”
M R. S. H. Olú S M A N.
MRs. HousMAN, whose maiden name was Pearsall, was born in Kid-
derminster, Worcestershire, of religious parents, who were a credit to the
profession they made; and as in other respects they acted worthily in
their station, so they were diligently careful to train up their children
betimes in the ways of God. The most interesting particulars of her
life and character will be gathered from the extracts which follow from
her published Diary.
Her JMethod of closing the Week, and preparing for the Sabbath.
April 3, 1711. Through Divine goodness, I am brought near the
close of another week; I would not close it without making some
reflections. I find I could run out in complaints against myself; but I
Would not overlook the gracious dealings of God to me. I would hum-
bly hope I have had the tokens of his presence with me in duty. -O
how reviving hath it been It is infinite condescension, to have any
regard to so mean and vile a creature as I am. None more beholden
to free grace than I; and sometimes, methinks I can admire it, and feel
it constraining. It grieves me that I can make no more returns. I
cannot love Christ as he hath loved me; but yet, I would love him as
much as ever creature loved him.
I cannot but be thankful that I have another Sabbath in view. O !
if I know my heart, I would fain get grace by the means; but I cannot
but be jealous of myself, and fear how it will be with me; such sad
experience I have had of a hard, dull, unaffected heart. Very justly
may God leave me to myself. Sometimes for my sins he does hide his
face, that when I come to duties, I cannot have any sensible enjoyment
of him. But when it is thus with me, my conscience beareth me wit-
ness, I am restless and dissatisfied; and I hope I find in me a resolution
still to hold on in the way of duty, and to hope in his mercy. . .
I would fain get nearer to God in the duties of the approaching Sab-
bath. Lord, give me a heart to improve it. The preparation of the
heart must come from thee. Let me receive of the fulness that there
is in Christ Jesus, even grace for grace, for his sake. Amen.
tº
Sept. 16, 1711. I am now brought to the end of another week. I
have been reviewing the days past, and find that the mercies I have
received have been many and great, and so have been my sins, greatly
multiplied. & wº
I have been this evening desirous to present my soul and body a liv-
ing sacrifice to God, hoping he will graciously accept me in and through
the great sacrifice, the Lord my righteousness. Upon the most serious
inquiry.into the state of my soul, I see ground to hope, that there is
something of a real change wrought upon me: yet it is but in part. By
sad and daily experience, I find sin dwells in me; and, blessed be God!
MRS. HOUSMAN. 367
I find something that opposeth it: so that all doth not go one way. O
that I could find the power of sin weakened, and grace strengthened 1
This I beg for, this I hope for, and earnestly desire that I might improve
the approaching Sabbath for this end; to bring me nearer to God, and
set me at a farther distance from sin and this world. I rejoice, Lord, in
the prospect of thy day. O prepare me for it ! May I meet with thee!
It hath been my desire this evening to descend into the valley of real
and deep humiliation. O may I in the morning of thy day get up into
the mount of meditation 1
Her Frame and Reflections after the Sabbath.
July 22, 1711. I, that have trifled away so many Sabbaths, have
been intrusted with another. In the morning when I awaked, I hope
I was truly thankful for the return of the Sabbath; and I was desirous
to improve the prize put into my hands, and made it my errand at the
throne of grace for his assisting and accepting presence. After I had
read some part of God’s word, I set myself to get a few serious thoughts;
and they were led first to take a view of my present state, and in what
relation I stood to God. I was enabled to discern the footsteps of the
Spirit upon my heart, and that his real workings were after God and
universal holiness. Methinks I could most feelingly say, “Whom have I
in heaven but thee and there is none upon earth that I desire like thee!”
When I came to attend upon God in public ordinances, I cannot say
I was without some serious desires and affections in my first engaging.
Mr. Spilsbury preached; the word came in a most lively, convincing
manner to me; it reached my very case. But in my return home I felt
deeper touches. Such impressions it made that I could scarce contain
myself from the observation of others. I made all the haste I could to
retire, that I might give myself liberty; and I think I never had more
sensible impressions made upon me. O what was it ! Mr. Spilsbury
preached from Rev. iii. 3, “Remember how thou hast heard.” I beg-
ged these impressions might not wear off, as others had done. It cost
me some tears. Lord, leave me not to my dark, dead, confused, stupid,
senseless, hypocritical self; but give my some fresh strength, and let me
be under the effusions of thy Spirit, even the Spirit of light, life, and love.
Aug. 5, 1711. I have been intrusted with another Sabbath. I
cannot but hope, that the manner of God’s dealings with me of late,
as well as this day, is in mercy. I have not such frequent discoveries
of his love made to my soul, as in months past; yet I humbly hope the
Lord is bringing me nearer to himself, by giving me some farther
acquaintance with myself. I see that I have no righteousness of my
own, nor strength; I would therefore take hold of another, and say,
“In thee, Lord have I righteousness and strength.” Lord, bring me to
an entire dependence on Christ for justification; and upon the Spirit
would I rely for sanctification. Methinks I am loath to return to a vain,
cooling, tempting, distracting world. But, Lord, take me by the hand,
and lead me in the way I should go. Let me never depart from thee.
May I still be progressive, till at last I shall come to keep an everlast-
ing Sabbath with thyself above; for which I would be looking and
longing, yet patiently waiting.
368 MEMOIRS OF
Aug. 12. This morning I awoke pretty early. This I could not but
be pleased with, and thankful for. Irenewed the experience I had the
last evening of the presence of God. I hope my mind was in somewhat
a serious and humble frame. I went to prayer to seek the presence of
God in the secret duties I was engaged in, particularly to be directed
and assisted in the duty of meditation. But how did my ignorance
appear, how weak was my faith, how cool my love I spent about an
hour in the work; but I cannot say my thoughts were engaged and
suitably affected.
As to my frame in public duties, it was bad enough ; but yet I hope
I was not wholly stupid. The word came to my case; it con-
vinced me of my unprofitableness under the precious seasons I have
enjoyed. I was filled with some present shame, but dare not resolve
it shall be better in my own strength. I would beg the word may be
sanctified, the directions given complied with, and truly and duly prac-
tised. Lord, write thy word upon my heart, and help me to treasure it
up, that I may not sin against thee. I am a poor, unprofitable crea-
ture, but yet I hope I can call the Sabbath my delight; and many times
I am grudging that its morments pass too swiftly on. O, I would long
for the dawning of the eternal Sabbath ! Come, Lord, bring me where
I shall see thee clearly, and love thee perfectly, and enjoy thee fully,
without interruption and intermission, to all eternity.
Aug. 28, 1715. I have, through the abundant goodness of God, not
only enjoyed another Sabbath, and the liberty of his house, but I hope
the tokens of his presence with me. I have this day, I humbly hope,
been under the drawings of his Spirit; have had some real discernings
of his glorious excellencies and infinite perfections. I have had my love
to and longings after him somewhat warmly drawn out. I hope grace
hath been in lively exercise. Blessed be God, that thus deals with me.
He gives me encouragement to hope in him ; nay, enables me to rejoice
in him. What can I do less, since I can discern my interest in him,
and can say, My Lord, my God
Her Preparation for the Lord's Supper.
January 30, 1728. Happy souls, that in time know the worth of
time ! Time is the only opportunity we have to provide for an everlast-
ing state. O now may I be living at another rate I have a great work
to do, particularly at this time. I have a covenanting season in view.
Now I would be laying aside every weight, and those sins which
most easily beset me, that I may engage heartily in preparation-
work. It is heart-work: bodily exercise profiteth little. I know the
preparation of the heart is of the Lord : I will go to him, who is the
heart-maker and the heart-searcher, and seek for grace and assist-
ance. Lord, hast thou not said in thy word, “Go boldly to the
throne of grace, that ye may find mercy and grace to help in time of
need tº Blessed be God for this gracious word of encouragement,
in which thou hast caused thy servant to hope. Surely it is good to
draw nigh to God, resolved to hold on this way of duty, and still
hope in his mercy. Blessed are all they that wait for him.
MRS. HOUSMAN. 369
April 29. This day was our preparation for the Lord's Supper. I
have been hearing of Christ Jesus; what a gift he is to those who are
his people; a free gift, valuable, full, and comprehensive He is a gift
of love, suitable, seasonable, satisfying, and a lasting one. Then we
were put upon inquiring whether we had received this gift. Those that
have, have been made sensible of the need of Christ. They have seen
the fulness and excellency of him, and have been made to desire him,
and been willing to receive him upon gospel terms. Such that have
Christ, have the Spirit of Christ,a spirit of holiness, and a spirit of prayer.
Such that have Christ are of the same mind that Christ was. And such
as have Christ have earnest desires after more enjoyment of Christ here,
and are longing after the full enjoyment of him in glory.
Upon the hearing and mature deliberation hereof, I have good ground
to hope I have experienced this in my soul. But I have great cause to
lament and be ashamed that I make no more progress, that I am still
but a babe, a dwarf in grace. O my want of life, growth, and activity
in holiness!
* Her Return from the Table of the Lord.
April 2. This has been a Sacrament day: I would take notice of,
and record for my future encouragement, the experiences I have had
this day of God’s answering my poor prayers. The Lord made me
earnest with him for his presence, and this day I have found him abun-
dantly assisting me in duties, and refreshing me with his presence.
O what did I enjoy at the throne of grace and in meditation How
sweet it is to come hungering and thirsting ! Such souls shall be
abundantly satisfied.
Have not I cause to say, this hath becna good day to my soul? Every
part of it, every duty, hath afforded me great delight. O how good is
it to wait upon the Lord ' What did I enjoy in hearing the word, and
at the table of my Lord | Did not I feel faith and love, hope and joy,
and repentance, a little in exercise | I did, I humbly hope. O may I
find it more so I Did not my desires go out most ardently after Christ
Did not I open my heart to receive him; and did I not find him 'ſ The
very mercies of this day are enough to engage me to love God for ever.
None but those who have tried it, can know the delights that attend
serious godliness. I could not but be loath to leave the ordinances, and
come down. What revived me most was, that I should not leave my
; behind me, but take him along with me. O may I keep close to
im
June 4. This has been a Sacrament Sabbath ; and upon the most
serious, impartial review, I must own it hath been, through free, rich
grace, a good day to me. ... I hope I had the presence of God in me-
ditation and prayer, in public while hearing the word ; and then at his
table, I cannot but hope and believe I had it; enabling me to discern
Christ Jesus, to lay hold upon and embrace him as my Lord, and to
give up myself heartily, unreservedly, resolvedly, and delightfully, to be
his ; his entirely, only, and for ever. And though I was not raised into
raptures, yet, I have enjoyed true, real comforts. He hath given me
peace in elieving. And this evening I have had abundance of com-
370 MEMOIRS OF
fort in the reflection on this day's transactions and enjoyments. And
to make up the day, and complete and confirm it to me, God hath gra-
ciously helped me in meditation. ... O my soul, what hast thou tasted
The assured discoveries of God’s love to thee; enabling me to triumph
in my interest in him, to lay claim to the promises, and apply them :
“There is no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.” “I
am persuaded that neither life nor death shall separate me from the love
of God in Christ Jesus my Lord.” “None shall pluck them out of my
hand.” So that now I can say, through grace, with an humble boldness,
“Come life, come death, come what will, I have heartily chosen the
Lord to be my portion, and he shall be my all both here and for ever.”
Her fleknowledgment of God in important Affairs.
December 12, 1715. The providence of God seems to be calling me
to the alteration of my condition in the world. Upon the prospect of
this great change I have in view, I cannot but be full of thought and
concern how I shall be duly prepared for it, that so I might fill up the
place and relation the providence of God is now disposing me to, with
duty and usefulness. When I consider that a new relation brings new
duties, new trials, and difficulties with it, yea, and new temptations too,
I cannot but be under (at least sometimes) great fears how it will be
with me.
I am conscious to myself I have been very much wanting in my duty
in single life. How little have I answered the many favours conferred
upon me ! I would lie low before God in the sense of my sin and folly.
I have oft spread the case before God, begging He would choose the
person who, the time when, the manner how, the place where. I have
been encouraged by those that are serious and judicious, to incline
to this as the direction of Providence. I would with all humility accept
the Divine disposals, believing that his disposing will ought to be re-
garded as his commanding will, and doth as firmly constitute my duty.
I bless God, it is not any thing in the world I am aiming at and pleas-
ing myself with, more than what looks like the gracious dealings of
God towards me." No, I am really afraid of the world, of having much
to do with it in my passage through itſ As my day is, so let my strength
be. O ! make good thy word unto thy servant, who is devoted to thy ,
fear ! I have been often saying, If thou go not with me, carry me not
hence;” and dost thou say, “Certainly I will be with thee ?” It is ſ
enough, I desire no more.
I am now setting out in the world, and what we call settling; but still
I look upon myself and all my concerns, relations, and enjoyments, as
immediately uncertain. How soon I may be called out of the world,
God only knows: I stand upon the brink of an awful eternity. I bless
God I can think of death with comfort. The thoughts of it are not ter-
rifying, but oft pleasing. I can rejoice in hope of the glory of God. It
is very refreshing to me sometimes, in the midst of the hurries and diver-
sions of this life, to think the time is coming when I shall be perfectly de-
livered from all these clogs, and come to better enjoyments, and more real
and satisfying pleasures. But yet, I cannot but fear lest the love of the
world should prevail in me, and things of time and sense interrupt me
in my Christian course, and abate my desires, take off the edge of my
MRS. HOUSMAN. 371
affections to the things of God and another world: therefore, it will be
my highest wisdom and indispensable duty, to be much in prayer and
constant watchfulness. These are duties never out of season, but upon
some occasions of more absolute necessity; and such a time I look upon
this to be. Lord, help me to be faithful to the interest of my precious
and immortal soul |
Oct. 2, 1716. I have of late, by the providences and word of God,
been frequently putin mind of death; and the present circumstances I
am brought into, will lead me into the valley of the shadow of death. It
is now but a few weeks before those difficulties will unavoidably over-
take me, that will be great, and may end in death. How sharp and
how long they may be, I know not. But this I am assured of, I shall
need more strength than my own to grapple with them, and much grace
to enable me to behave under them. I desire to be much in prayer, and
spread my case before the Lord for grace to help me in this time of need.
To some it proves a dying time; it may be so to me. And this hath,
sometimes at least, put me upon the inquiry how matters go betwixt
God and my soul. I know it is a serious and awful thing to die ; but
yet, I bless God, upon my most serious thoughts of it, it hath not looked
terrible. No, as to myself, it looks rather comfortable and desirable to
depart and be with Christ. Though I have as affectionate a yoke-fellow
as any, yet all I have, and all that the world can afford me, is not suffi-
cient to make me happy. This world is not a portion for an immortal
soul. I hope I have chosen heaven for my inheritance, and there I long
to be. I bless God, I am not afraid so much of death, as of dying.
If it shall please God to give me a living child, I would with all hu-
mility and thankfulness devote it to him, and resolve, his grace ena-
bling, to bring it up in the nurture and fear of God; and beg it may be
sanctified from the womb. 3.
Her Frame under ºfflictions.
June 27, 1720. It is two years since it pleased the infinitely wise and
good God to remove my dear Joseph. I have had many warm, moving
thoughts working in me these few days past; those that have been
humbling and quickening, and those that have excited thankfulness
towards that God who supported me under that trial. A trial indeed it
was ; the greatest, I may say, that I ever felt. May I not say, “I had
fainted unless I had believed P’ What I then tasted, I hope, hath strongly
obliged me to love the Lord, and confirmed my hope that he is my God,
my covenant God. I hope I have been enabled to justify and acknow-
ledge his sovereignty in all his dealings; and am not without hope that
his dealings were mercy, love, and faithfulness to me. I hope the sin-
cere desire of my soul is, to think well of all that God doeth; and would
fain have my will entirely resigned to the whole will of God, concerning
me and mine. '
Sensible I would be, but not dejected, and by no means sullen;
that would put more bitterness into the cup. God hath many arrows
in his quiver, and he can heat the furnace seven times hotter, and again
and again seven times hotter, till he hath consumed us. And if he
should do so, still we may say, He punishes us less than our iniquities
972 MEMOIRS OF .
deserve. I would humbly hope my desire hath been, and still is, with
Aaron, to hold my peace. If God may be sanctified, I would be satisfied.
If God may have glory from afflictive providences, I have nothing to say
against them. I hope it is both our earnest desire, to improve the pro-
vidences of God; for it is a great loss, not to be made better by them.
I do believe there are many lessons to be learned, which would be of un-
speakable advantage to us; viz.
1. It should for ever imbitter sin to us. As she said to the prophet,
“Art thou come to call my sin to remembrance, and slay my son P’—
it is sin, sin, that hath raised these storms, and troubled our house. O
that we may be the death of that which hath been the death of our
children | tº
2. It should be a spur to us, to put us on in heaven’s way. I am
conscious to myself, there was need of this affliction. Especially before
the death of my Joseph, I was growing more remiss in my duty. My
heavenly Father saw it, and (may I not conclude 4) sent this sad provi-
dence to be my monitor, to tell me whence I was fallen, and bid me re-
pent and do my first works
3. I would learn by this providence, as long as I live, to keep my af-
fections within due bounds towards creature comforts. How hard do I
find it to love, and not to over-love . Now God is a jealous God, and
will not give his glory to another; and may we not fear our excess this
way hath provoked him to remove the mercy from us, which we make
an idol of 4
4. Are our children gone before us? This should be a means to draw
our hearts upwards and homewards. Should we not be looking oftener
than ever into the other world'ſ It is but a little while, and all the things
of time will be swallowed up in eternity ; and if we could but duly con-
sider this, it is no great matter whether we or ours die first, since we are
all dying. It hath been my constant prayer to my heavenly Father,
that he would give us a name better than that of sons and daughters,
and make up all in himself. To him be glory for ever. Amen.
Aug. 13, 1732. It hath pleased the great sovereign Lord of all, last
evening, to lay his afflicting hand upon me. I was very suddenly
seized with illness; the fever was high, and I was brought low by it;
but, as God laid on with the one hand, he supported with the other.
I bless God, my frame under the affliction was easy, nay, comfortable.
I cannot express what impressions were made upon my mind; but they
were such as did excite my love to him, and enlarged my desires after
him. O how did the truth and faithfulness of God appear in afflicting
me ! How clearly did I discern things, those things, which in general
I love the sense of ! I was thankful for the affliction, and for the frame I
was then in under it. Blessed be God, who did not leave me wholly to
myself I bless him for mercies, and for seasonable, sanctified afflic-
tions: they do me—I know not how much good. I would not be with-
out them for the crown of England, supposing my need of them the
same that now it is. Let others bless themselves in their continued
growing prosperity; blessed be God for seasonable, sanctified afflictions !
saith my soul. Though so ill, and so very ill last night and this morn-
ing, yet, through much mercy, I was enabled to go out the latter part
of the day. Blessed be God, I heard sweet and comfortable truths, that
MRS. HOUSMAN. 373
“there is no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.” I heard
them with pleasure, and could hope in this mercy.
Her Improvement of Providences relating to others.
Sept. 8, 1716. This day I have been attending two persons to the
grave, both younger than myself. One hath been wearing off for some
time; but the other’s death was sudden, and very surprising. One
day well, and the next deadl She went to bed well, and in two hours
in eternity 1 O surprising stroke, to step into eternity before we think
of it ! to find ourselves at the bar of a just and holy God, sentenced to
an unalterable state, before we knew we were leaving this If the
soul be found ready, the surprise will be joyful. O my soul | take the
warning, and let it excite thee to diligence in thy preparatory work.
It is an interest in Christ only, that can make me to die safely; and
only my knowledge of it that can make it comfortable. The last night
when I awoke, I could not but have some supposing thoughts, What
if death should come to me, as it had done to cousin C the night
before I was put then upon reflecting on former transactions, and
could then say, If death should come this night and in the same man-
ner, I know in whom I have believed, &c.
Feb. 2, 1727. This is a sorrowful day indeed to us in this place.
This day dear Mr. Spilsbury was laid in the grave. The great God
seems to have a controversy with us. He hath smitten the shepherd;
O that the sheep may not be scattered . We are a provoking people;
it is a wonder of mercy we have enjoyed him so long. O that we may
every one of us look into our own hearts, and endeavour to find out the
Achan that troubles our Israel ! The Lord’s voice cries to this town;
O that we may now “hear the rod, and who hath appointed it !” I
desire to lament the sins of the society in general, and my own in par-
ticular, that have had a great hand in bringing this sore and heavy
affliction upon us. O what cause have I to cry out, My barrenness |
my barrenness I under such rich and choice means. O that a sense of
my sin and folly may both humble and quicken me to and in my duty
for the future
May 16, 1727. It hath pleased the infinitely wise and gracious God,
the sovereign Lord of his creatures, this day to remove our dear and
honoured father. I would be dumb and not open my mouth, because
the Lord hath done it. “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken
away,” and still we must say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Blessed be God, we had such a father, one truly religious, and in cove-
nant with God himself, and one who took hold of the covenant for us
his children ; who, in our infancy, dedicated us to the Lord, and took
care to train us up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. A pray-
ing father! We have lost one that was constant and instant in this
work. He hath laid up a stock of prayers for his children. A bright
and shining example of holiness O that the children may be fol-
lowers of them, who, through faith and patience, are inheriting the
promises; that this providence may be so sanctified, that it may bring
us nearer to God and duty, and a more diligent preparation for our own
374 MEMOIRS OF
departure ! It will be but a little time, and I must go the way of all
flesh ; a way we shall not return. O that I may now converse more
with our glorified friends ! Thrice happy they that are in the presence-
chamber of the Lamb that are in the clear vision and full fruition of
their º Lord. Lord, send down thy quickening grace, and fit me
to ascend.
Feb. 26, 1728. I must now write myself not only fatherless, but mo-
therless. After may months' illness and weakness, it hath pleased our
gracious God and Father to give our dear and honoured mother a
release from all those sorrows she groaned under here ; and through
free grace, I trust, advanced her to the glorious liberty of the saints
above ; a state and place her pious soul longed to attain. Happy soul
shall I wish her back again 7 O no, no she is where she would be. It
is true, I want her pleasant company and conversation. O that we, the
children of the family, might be found treading in the steps of our dear
parents, and remember those instructions they took care to press upon
us! Should any of us miscarry, it will be with dreadful aggravations.
O that all of us may give diligence to make our calling and election
sure Amen.
March 20. The late tidings of the losses which our friends and
neighbours sustain, give a large demonstration of the vanity of the
world. We must justify God in his severest trials; and still bless God
it is not worse with us than it is. I have often said, and said it upon
my knees, “Let the Lord do what he will with me, I will love him
and cleave to him still ; afflictions shall not drive me from, but bring
me nearer to my God.” For my part I know no God but thee, and am
resolved to take up with nothing short of an interest in thy love.
Nov. 17, 1729. This day the sorrowful tidings of good Mr. Thomp-
son’s death have been brought me. A great loss to the Church of God
in general, and to poor Bromsgrove in particular. He has done labour-
ing, and is now in the rest that was promised to the faithful. O happy
soul O glorious day ! he is now where he would be. Help, Lord, for
the godly man ceaseth, and the faithful fail from among the children
of men. The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart; and
the merciful men are taken away from the evil to come. Who, who is
there that considers this as he ought !
Her Thankfulness for JMercies received.
* Nov. 5, 1711. This being a day to call to mind former mercies, when
the public duties of the day were over, I set the rest of the evening apart
to review the mercies of my life. The privileges of my birth are, I see,
exceeding great. That I was born in a land of gospel light, is an inva-
luable blessing; but to be born in Kidderminster, is a still greater mercy;
and to be born of religious parents, whose care was to devote me to
God, and educate me for God; who took me and set me under the
droppings of God’s sanctuary; and there I had the advantage of hear-
ing one of the most eminent ministers of Jesus Christ, worthy Mr.
Spilsbury. *
MRS. HOUSMAN. 375
Temporal mercies also have been bountifully bestowed upon me. In
this respect I can see myself a privileged person. Abundance of health
and ease, peace and prosperity, fulness and plenty; so that I have
lacked nothing that is good for me. I would be thankful to Divine
goodness for placing me in such a state, that I am free from many and
great temptations that others are exposed to, and in danger of being
undone by. I can see abundance of love in my heavenly Father’s dis-
posals. I bless God, I am not ambitious of much acquaintance in the
world, nor of having much to do with it.
I bless God that he has given me any sense of the mercies I do enjoy;
but I am sensible I come far short of my duty. I would have my grati-
tude excited, and my holy resolutions to endeavour after a more holy,
humble, faithful, becoming walking. O my unprofitableness in the
midst of mercies 1 I cannot but reflect upon myself many times, how
unlike the person I am, to and for whom God hath so wonderfully ap-
peared. I might record many of the especial favours of my God; the
many tokens of his distinguishing grace. I would adore and bless him,
that he hath shed abroad his love in my heart, in a degree beyond
what I could have expected.
Her closing one Year, and beginning another.
Jan. 1, 1730. I am now come to the beginning of another year.
How many of my neighbours and acquaintance have been removed this
last year, that were as likely to be alive now, as I was the beginning of
this last year ! They are taken, and I am left yet upon trial. I have
been this day called to make my choice, “Choose you this day whom
you will serve.” I humbly hope I have been enabled long ago to choose
the Lord to be my God, my portion, my everlasting all. I rejoice in the
grace in which I stand, and in the choice I have been enabled to make
I desire in the most sincere and solemn manner to renew and stand to
my former choice. O Lord, I am, I will be thine; thine in sincerity,
and thine for ever !
I would lament the sins of the last year,and beg pardon for Jesus' sake.
I flee to the rich atonement of thy Son’s blood, and lay this guilty soul
at thy feet, crying, “God be merciful to me a sinner l’”
I would, with my whole soul, bless God for the mercies of this last
year, and say, Bless the Lord, O my soul, who hath crowned this
year also with his loving kindness, and made me experience his tender
mercies, as they have been ever of old. Come, love the Lord, O my soul!
Jan.1, 1732. Through the sparing mercy of God towards me, I am
brought to the beginning of another year. It is a mercy denied to many.
How many hath the grave enclosed, this last ! yet, I am living to praise
the Lord ; and I would praise him with my whole heart. The mercies
of the year have been innumerable; they exceed the hairs of my head.
I would lament the sins of the year past. How much precious time
have I lost that is now past recalling f How many opportunities have I
lost of getting and doing good I Lay not the sins of the year to my
charge. . There is forgiveness with thee. Take away iniquity, receive
me graciously, love me freely, for thy own name's sake, for thy Son’s
sake, in whom alone I trust.
376 MEMOIRS OF
I know not but my last year may now be come. Well then, if it
should be so, O my soul! canst thou hope the time of thy redemption
draws nigh 4 Blessed be God for a comfortable hope through Jesus
Christ,
Her Converse with Eternity, and Preparation for it.
Jan. 23, 1729. One day more to account for O my soul, what
hast thou done this day, in order to giving up thy accounts com-
fortably.
O awful thought ! to stand before an impartial Judge, to receive
my eternal sentence O eternity 1 eternity how vast is the thought !
how soon am I lost in the meditation cf it ! Eternal happiness eternal
misery ! how inconceivable are they ! I am near to one of these states,
and I do loiter and trifle still. O for a strong and lively faith, to re-
alize and bring near these invisible realities O my soul how is it
with thee / Hast thou made sure work for eternity ? I charge thee, turn
in and inquire what change thou canst experience. Thou art by nature
a child of wrath, even as others: it is Jesus that delivers thee from
the wrath to come. Hast thou, O my soul, out of a sense of thy sin
and misery, and desparing of help in any other, fled to and laid hold of
Christ Jesus, as the only city of refuge, and accepted him as Lord and
Saviour, and given up thy self cheerfuly, heartily, and entirely to be
the Lord’s, resolving to abide by his merits, and trust to his mercy;
rejoicing in the provision he hath made for sinners, for poor repenting
sinners'! I hope he hath made me as willing to be made holy here, as
happy hereafter. Is not holiness my choice, and, I hope, in some mea-
sure my delight !
Feb. 4, 1729. Brought through another day in safety and much
mercy O that I could converse more with the invisible realities of the
upper, better world ! ... But, alas! what a stranger am I to that noble
life . How am I enslaved to the things of time and sense ! O that I
could look upon myself as a stranger here ! My soul, this world is not
thy home ; be wise in time, and prepare to go hence. Lay up a good
foundation against the time to come. O dearest Lord, raise this dead
'heart, give it a lift; set it upon the wings of faith and love 1 O let this
be the victory that overcometh the world, even my faith.
May 17. I have been visiting an aged Christian friend, who is come
almost to the last day of his life, old Mr. Taylor : he is longing to be
gone, to be joined to the saints above. O that I may be looking more
above, and by faith be ascending after my glorified friends, and be more
longing to ascend to my glorious Lord and Redeemer O what a joy-
ful meeting will it be for the saints above My soul, look less to the
things which are seen and temporal, and more to the things which are
not seen, and are eternal.
Aug. 8. This day I have had many warnings. I have seen one of our
neighbours carried to the grave, who died in the midst of his days. A
great loss to his family I hear of another who lies speechless; and the
bell is tolling for another; and I have just been visiting another, who
MRS. HOUSMAN. 377
seems upon the very border of eternity. O, who would not be up and
doing, while time and health, and ease, doth last !
Life is the time to serve the Lord,
The time tº insure the great reward;
And while the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest sinner may return.
I have at this time some return of my feverish disorder. How it may
be with me, I know not : I am in the hands of a good and a gracious
God, may I not say, my God, my covenant God and Father | Lord,
here I am ; do with me as seemeth good in thy sight.
Some Account of the Frame and dying Eapressions of JMrs. Housman,
during the few Days of her last Sickness ; drawn up by the Servant who
attended her. &
The providence of God, in the removal of my dear mistress, seems to
call on me to make some remarks of what I was eye and ear witness
to, which I hope may be of use to myself and many others. Her words
were very affecting to me, and I hope a rehearsal of them may be sc
to those into whose hands this may come. &
From the time of her first seizure, which was in the evening of Octo-
ber the 26th, she was exercised with very violent pains, without any
intermission till her death ; such as, she would often say, she thought
she could not have borne; but, said she, “God is good, verily he is
good to me; I have found him a good and gracious God to me all my
days.” Once I thought she would have sunk away under her pains,
they were so extreme and overwhelming ; but, by and by recovering,
she brake out into these words: “God is good : I have found him so :
and though he slay me, yet will I trust in him. Those pains make me .
to love my Lord Jesus the better. O ! they put me in mind what he suf-
fered for me, to purchase salvation for my poor soul l’”
I asked her, how old she was when the work of grace began to be
wrought in her soul. To which she replied, that when she was but ten
years old, it pleased God, by his Spirit, sometimes to set in with the word,
and serious impressions were made on her mind; but after a while they
wore off again, and then she was left under great trouble and distress;
and then sometimes she had some revivings. But she said, she could
not then open her mind to any body. And thus it continued with her,
till she was almost thirteen ; when, one Lord’s-day, Mr. Spilsbury, in
preaching, was very pressing on his hearers to close with Christ; and
he said, “Do it now, before it be too late. Nay, go home and spread
your sins before the Lord; confess that you have sinned and done very
wickedly; lie before him in dust and ashes, and then give up yourselves
to him without delay. Say not, I will do it some time, but do it now
this night. Those of you that can write, go and set it down in writing,
that from this time you are and will be the Lord’s.” She said, that
she did accordingly, and from that time she hoped the good work went
on prosperously.
She said, she could part with all that was dear to her here, to go to
Christ. “It is hard work indeed to part with my dear husband; he has
been a faithful and a loving, tender husband to me; the Lord reward
48
378 MEMOIRS OF
him for it ! And it is hard parting with my dear child. I hope the
seeds of grace are already sown in her heart; the Lord cherish and cul-
tivate them, that she may be a comfort to her father, when I am dead
and gone. I cheerfully resign them to God; I have done with them,
and heartily commend them to his care, who is able to keep them from
falling, and I trust will do it. And now I desire that those I love best
may be kept out of my sight, for I have done with them, and can cheer-
fully leave the dearest creature enjoyments to go to Christ.”
She then took hold of my hand and said, “I wish thee well, and so I
have ever since I knew you; and I look upon your coming into my ser-
vice as an answer to my poor prayers. I love thee very well, and hope
you will do well. I have been constant and earnest in my prayers to
God for you. I entreat and charge you, keep close to God; never turn
aside from him: this is my dying advice. Keep close to God, and he
will keep close to you. And now I commend you all to the care of one
whom I can with comfort call my God, my true and faithful God.”
The day before she died, my master came to the bedside, and no doubt
with a sorrowful countenance ; to whom she said : “Dear, I think I
am going apace, and I hope you will be satisfied, because it is the will
of God. You have at all times been very suitable, very loving and
good to me, and I thank you for it kindly. And now I desire you freely
to resign and give me up to God; do it now ; go, I desire you, now, and
give me up freely. If God sees it best to prolong my stay here upon earth,
I am willing to stay ; or if he sees it best to take me to himself, I am
willing to go. I am willing to be and bear what may be most for God’s
glory.” And my master accordingly, with tears in his eyes, retired
into his closet.
The evening before she died, before night, she found death stealing
upon her, and feeling her own pulse, said, “Well, it will be but a little
while before my work will be done in this world; then I shall have done
with prayer; my whole employment then will be praise and love. Here
I love God but faintly, yet, I hope, sincerely; but there it will be per-
fectly perfectly I shall behold his face in righteousness. For I am
thy servant, Lord ; I am thy servant bought with blood, with precious
blood. Christ died to purchase the life of my soul.” And then, as in
a rapture, she repeated the seventeenth psalm of Dr. Watts, beginning,
“Lord, I am thine ; but thou wilt prove”—though, by reason of weak-
ness, she could scarce bring out the words.
After this she said: “A little while and I shall be singing that sweet
song, Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto him that sit-
teth upon the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever and ever !” O what
smiles, what marks of longing desire did I behold in her face, as if she
was in a transport of joy!
She would often say, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly Why are
thy chariot-wheels so long in coming 4 why tarry the wheels of thy
chariot'ſ O blessed convoy, O come and fetch my soul, to dwell with
God and Christ and perfect spirits for ever and ever! When I get above,
to that blessed society above, my pleasures will never end. O the glory,
O the glory that shall be set on the head of faith and love . I long for
the glorious convoy. Come, blessed Saviour, come and fetch my soul
to glory. Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, come quickly Why art thou
, so long " I long to be with Christ, and hope in a little while I shall be
sº-
MRS. HOUSMAN. 379
with him, where he is, to behold his face in righteousness: then shall I
be satisfied, when I awake in thy likeness.”
She bade me many and many a time look on her. “Look on me,”
said she, “and learn to die; for die you must, and turn to dust.” She
said, “Death comes on gradually, but I am not afraid of its approaches.
I can meet death in all its terrors with pleasure, because its sting is
taken away, and because it will bring me to Christ, my living head. I
long to be with Christ, to behold his glory.” And then, with visible
marks of pleasure, these lines dropped from her dying lips, (for her flesh
was almost cold four hours before her death, as when she was really
dead,)
O the delights, the heavenly joys,
The glories of the place,
Where Jesus sheds the brightest beams
Of his o'erflowing grace
When death was near, she was very sensible of its approach, and said,
That she was going apace to the eternal world, and then she hoped to
be free from all the pains and sorrows, clogs and encumbrances, she had
been exercised with in this world. But she said, “I do not hope for
any thing as the fruits of my own merits and righteousness, but of free
grace, and through the merits of my dear Saviour, who hath brought me
out of the hands of all my spiritual enemies that would do me any harm.
And I can securely trust my soul in the hands of my dear Redeemer;
for I know whom I have believed, and in whom I have put my trust,
and am confident that he is able to keep what I have committed to him
against that day.” She then said as follows:
My soul in thy sweet hands I trust:
Now can I sweetly sleep:
My body falling to the dust,
I leave with thee to keep.
One who was present told her, that there had been many prayers put
up on her account; to which the answered, she hoped they were all
prayers with resignation. t
She had such strong and eager longings to be gone, that she would
often say, and say it with great earnestness, “Come, Lord Jesus, come,
for I long to be gone from the footstool to the throne, where there will
be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying, nor any more pain. O how
sweet will it be It will be far better to depart and be with Christ for
ever, for ever, than remain in the present state of sin and sorrow. It
is true, I love my husband, I love my child, I love them dearly ; and I
love life ; but I can cheerfully die and leave them all, to go and be
with Christ, because it will be far better. His arms are open to receive
me, and bid me welcome, welcome to heaven, and all the glorious enjoy-
ments thereof. O, I long to be gone, I long to be gone, to be with Christ,
and never, never part more Come my dear Lord, I long to be dis-
solved O why, O why are thy chariot wheels so long in coming! Make
no tarrying, O my God?”
A few minutes before her departure, she felt herself going, and desired
us to lift her up a little, which we did. Then she, smiling, said, “Fare-
wél sin, farewell pains.” And so finished her course with joy. She
died Oct. 31, 1735.
M. R. S. A N N DUT TO N.
MRs. ANN DUTToN was born at Northampton, some time about the
end of the seventeenth century; but the particulars of her age and fa-
mily are not known. She appears from her writings to have been a
woman of considerable abilities, and great religious attainments. The
account she gives of herself, was published in London, 1743; but where
or when she died, we have not been able to ascertain. The following
is extracted from that copy, and nearly in her own words.
“I had the advantage of a religious education, my parents being
both pious, by whose care and diligence I was trained up in the ways
of God; being early instructed into the doctrines and worship of the
gospel, so far as my tender years were capable of. I attended with
my parents upon the ministry of the late Mr. Hunt, at Northampton,
which was the place of my first, and also of my second birth. I kept up
private prayer frequently, but not constantly. From a child I was ac-
quainted with the holy Scriptures, and took pleasure in reading them,
with other good books, especially hymn-books, which I greatly delight-
ed to learn and commit to memory. My natural affections at times
were much raised in reading some parts of the Bible, and other books; so
that I have preferred religious exercises to the childish vanity of play
with my fellows, which some judged to be the buddings of grace in my soul.
However, from a child I was under convictions at times; and my con-
science was kept so tender, that I was easily touched with the guilt of
sin, when I thought I had done any thing amiss. And when I was
under guilt, it would hinder me from prayer, till it was a little worn off.
But then I thought to be better; and to prayer I went again. And if
I could pray with any enlargement, my conscience was eased, and I was
quite whole, and went on with religious exercises as before.
“But notwithstanding my attendance upon public and private wor-
ship, my notions of divine mysteries, my memory to retain the best
things, and my raised affections in religious exercises; I was, though I
had little reason for it, a proud, self-righteous creature. For though I
had notions of these things, yet, alas ! the inbred enmity of my heart
appeared, in my attempting to join something of my own with Christ,
seeking life as it were by the works of the law ; which is the way that
seemeth right to a man, but the end thereof is death. Proud worm
that I was, I valued myself upon my supposed attainments, and thought
my eternal happiness secured thereby. I have been ready at times to
bless myself thus, when I have seen other children at play: “Well, others
are employed about vanity; but I know better things: I have been at
prayer while others are at play : doubtless I am safe for heaven.” But
if any one had asked a reason of my confidence, it must have been, if
had spoken my heart, ‘Because I am better than others.’ So wickel
and vain was I, notwithstanding all my religious seriousness, that I
went about to establish my own filthy righteousness, and was far fom
submitting to the righteousness of God. And thus in unbelief, rejecting
*A.
MRS. ANN DUTTON. 381
the Saviour, I might have been left to go on, depending upon my own
righteousness, and to perish with thousands in this splendid way to hell.;
“And here I would further observe, that though I mostly had a false,
peace from my supposed goodness, yet, at times it was broken by my.
badness. My conscience would accuse me for my vanities and evils, as:
not being all of a piece, as not acting consistently with that show which
I made in religion. And oft I have strove to stifle convictions, and
against the force of them, when my honoured father talked closely to
me for the good of my soul. And lo, a little time before the Lord
wrought savingly on my heart, I began to be more airy and proud, and
to please myself with creature-vanities. And thus, being estranged
from God, and an enemy to him, with my back upon God, and my face
towards destruction, I went on in sin, towards eternal death ; and was
so far from having any fitness in me for conversion to God, or any
goodness to move his favour, that I had a fulness of rebellion, a
fulness of sin in me to provoke his wrath, and was fit fuel for everlasting
burnings. And justly might I have been made an example of God’s
vengeance, of his fiery indignation, in the torments of hell for ever.
But, behold ! to commend the love of God towards me, he took me at
my worst For God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith
he loved me, even when I was dead in sins, did quicken me together
with Christ. It pleased the Lord to work savingly upon my heart,
when I was about thirteen years of age ; though I cannot fix the precise
time of its beginning: which I judge was the less discernible to me, by
reason of my being so frequently under concern of soul before. But
however, this I can say, that my concern at this time was much greater
and more lasting, than ever before. Nor could I find peace where I
was wont to find it. There was a mighty impression made upon my
heart, of the reality and consequence of a future state, either of misery
or glory, of unspeakable happiness or inconceivable torment ; together
with the nearness of its approach. Oh, eternity eternity was ever
before mine eyes | And the worth of my own soul, as an immortal spirit,
capable of the highest glory in the eternal enjoyment of God, or of the
utmost misery in an everlasting separation from him, was strongly im-
pressed upon my mind. Again, the misery of my natural state was set
before me, as a transgressor of the holy law: I thought all the curses
in God’s book belonged to me. And further, the law of God was now
opened to me in its spirituality; as extending to thoughts, the most in-
ward motions of my soul, as well as to my words and actions.
“This raised a cry in my soul, (though I kept it as clºse as I
could from others,) What must I do to be saved 7 Now I set about
religion in good earnest. I prayed, read, heard in a very different man-
ner from what I had ever done before. But my wound was too deep
to be healed with my own doings now. My soul was removed far off
from peace. A dreadful sound was in my ears. The law of God pur-
sued me with its curses, notwithstanding all my religious duties; yea,
even for the sins that attended them : which till now I was an utter
stranger to. Before, I was a beautiful creature in my own eyes, as
wrapt ſound with-my fine doings. But now I saw myself to be a most
deformed object, a loathsome spectacle in the eyes of God, and was
so in my own sight. My best righteousness now appeared to be but
filthy rags; which were so far from justifying me before God, that they
MEMOIRS OF
#y increased my guilt and condemnation, by reason of the sin that
to them. I saw sin now in another light than before. I saw
;exceeding sinfulness and hatefulness thereof, in its contrariety to
id, the chief good. The guilt which before attended my conscience,
account of sin, respected only the outward actions thereof in my life ;
; now I saw myself guilty by reason of heart-sins. Yea, mine eyes
re now opened to see the filthy fountain, whence all the defiled
feams, both in heart and life, did proceed. I saw that I was shapen
| #in iniquity, and that in sin my mother did conceive me ; that I was
* brought into the world a sinner, with a guilty, filthy nature, all over
ºf defiled from head to foot, as a descendant from fallen Adam. Again, I
was convinced that I had been doing nothing else but sinning against
God, ever since I had a being. And I wondered at infinite patience,
that had borne with me, and suffered me to live so long out of hell. I
now no longer thought myself to be better than others, but one of the
vilest creatures the earth bore. Yea, I thought myself to be the very
chief of sinners. For though restraining grace had kept me from out-
ward enormities, yet I could look upon those of the most flagitious
lives, and think myself a worse sinner than they. The plague of my
heart was now opened; and oh, what a complication of sins, what filth
and abominations, did I there see . These made me loathe myself in
#my own sight.
“Again, I was convinced of my own weakness, and real inability to
do any thing that was spiritually good, or in the least wise to help my-
self out of that miserable, distressed condition I was in. I saw my-
self to be carnal, sold under sin; and that I was so far from being
able to help myself out of that horrible pit I was plunged into, that
the more I struggled to get out, the deeper I sunk into it. And this in-
ability to help myself respected not only the guilt and filth, but also
the power of sin. I saw that I was held as in chains under the do-
minion of sin; and the power and being, as well as the guilt and filth
of sin, were now a great burden to my soul. I saw, that nothing less
than an omnipotent arm could pluck me out of those amazing deeps
And now I was undone indeed! Just ready to perish in my own ap-
prehension, being filled at times with terrible fears of approaching
wrath. So that I have been in dread in the evening, when I went to
bed, lest I should lift up my eyes in hell before morning. -
“Again, it pleased the Lord to convince me, that salvation was
alone by God’s free grace, through what Christ had done, as the Re-
deemer of sinners: and that it was impossible for me to be saved,
without faith in Christ, of the special operation of God. Further,
I was fully convinced of the sufficiency of Christ to save even the
worst of sinners; and that there was salvation in him, which the
chosen of God should assuredly obtain. Again, there was a soul-
ravishing, heart-attracting revelation of Christ made to me, in his
infinite suitableness as a Saviour, to my present case as an undone
sinner; and also, of his infinite ability to save me to the uttermost
from the depths of misery, to the heights of glory. And though what
I heard of salvation as yet was but, as it were, in general propositions;
as, that Christ died for the chief of sinners; and, “He that believeth
shall be saved,’ &c., whence a possibility of salvation for me was
hinted; yet, so powerful an influence had it on my soul, that it kept




MRS. ANN DUTTON. 383
me from despair, and held my heart at the throne of grace. And, in-
deed, some glimmerings of salvation by Christ, together with a possi-
bility of its being for me, were so intermingled with my forementioned
convictions, that they kept me from sinking into desperation.
“About this time I was put upon some doubt about election,
whether there were any such thing ; and received full satisfaction
from Rom. xi. 5, ‘There is a remnant according to the election of
grace.” But then, to know whether I was elected, this was my chief
concern. For the notions I before had of the doctrines of the gospel
were not sufficent to comfort me now. I could no longer rest satisfied
with knowing, that God had chosen a remnant in his Son unto eternal
life, unless I knew my own interest in electing grace; nor, that Christ
had died for sinners, without knowing that he loved me, and gave him-
self for me, &c. I saw it availed nothing as to salvation, to know for
others, unless I know these things for my own soul. God’s election-
grace stood forth before mine eyes in an amazing glory. But oh, to
know whether I was one of God’s chosen I saw the inexpressible
blessedness of those who were interested in Christ’s person, love, life,
death, and glory. But oh, the tormenting fears which at times racked
my heart, lest I should stand excluded from all this grace | I was once,
I remember, reading the seventeenth chapter of St. John ; and when
I came to those words, “I pray not for the world, but for them which
thou hast given me, for they are thine ;’ my heart was as if struck
through with a dart; fearing that I was none of the Lord’s, but of
the world, and, as such, stood excluded from Christ’s prayer. And
those wòrds also were weighty upon my mind, Psalm lxxiii. 1, 2,
‘Truly God is good to Israel, even to such as are of a clean heart.” But
as for me ! (for I went no further,) from the first verse I saw how in-
finitely good God was to his own people, and how unspeakably blessed
they were, as interested in all his goodness. So that from those clear
and demonstrative views I had of it, I could with my whole soul join
with the Psalmist, and say, ‘Truly God is good to Israel, even to such
as are of a clean heart l’ But then, from the first clause of the second
verse, “But as for me !” I took in a vast sight of my own misery, and
was filled with fears that my state was just the reverse to that of
those happy souls, which were interested in God, and in all his good-
ness. Yea, I sometimes found despairing thoughts forcing themselves
upon me; as if I was irrecoverably lost. And, at times, I was fit to
bewail my misery, in a verse of Mr. Mason’s Poem upon Dives and
Lazarus; viz.
“God’s gone, he's gone, and what an hell is this,
To be depriv'd of everlasting bliss"
“But, through rich grace, everlasting arms being underneath me, I
was not left to sink into despair; nor was I long without hopes that I
should find mercy. . The greatness and sovereignty of Jehovah’s mercy
and grace, the fulness and freeness of Christ's salvation, together
with the indefinite promises of the gospel, were as so many cords which
powerfully drew my soul to venture into the presence of God, and
prostrate myself at the throne of grace, as a lost undone sinner, as it
were with a rope about my neck, or as under a full conviction, and an
open confession, of my having deserved to die the death. I was, as
y
384 MEMOIRS OF
it were, brought before the bar of God, and asked if I had any thing
to say, why I might not be sent down to the pit. And lo! I stood
guilty : my mouth was stopped before the Lord, and I wondered that
he had spared me so long. I saw that I had destroyed myself; and
if I was the next moment sent down to hell, I could justify the
righteousness and holiness of God therein. That word was much to
me upon this account : “The Lord is righteous in all his ways, and holy
in all his works,” Psal. cxlv. 17. Ay, thought I, he will be so in my
condemnation, if I am punished with everlasting destruction from the
presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his power : his righteous-
ness and holiness will shine forth herein. So that I had nothing to
plead upon the foot of justice. But yet, my soul was mightily engag-
ed with the greatest intenseness to seek life upon the ground of free
mercy and rich grace displayed in a crucified Jesus. Out of the
depths of misery I cried unto the depths of mercy, as the poor
publican, God be merciful to me a sinner | And God’s design to exalt
his mercy and glorify his grace in saving lost souls, did furnish me
with arguments to plead with him for the display of these riches in
my salvation, as the very chief of sinners. I thought, that, if I was
saved, there would be never another such an instance of grace in
heaven. And thus I have pleaded with God, that he would display
the riches of his glory in saving me, to show what a God of grace he
was ; and what wonders the exceeding riches of sovereign grace and
free mercy could work for the most miserable.
“Thus, as a poor perishing sinner, I waited at the throne of grace.
with earnest longings and some hopes, that mercy would bid me live,
I saw that there was grace enough in God to save me ; and oft the
language of my soul was like the centurion’s to Christ, concerning his
servant, “Say in a word, and my servant shall be healed,” (Luke vii.7.)
So have I said, Speak but the word, Lord, and my soul shall be saved:
bid me live, and I shall live in thy sight. I had faith in Christ’s abi-
lity to save me; but oh, my unbelief I questioned his willingness. I
was surrounded with a crowd of discouragements, which forbade my
soul crying after him. But so powerfully did the Father draw me to
Christ, by revealing his infinite fulness and freeness to save, together
with his exceeding suitableness to my case, and that there was yet
hope for me; that, though attended with fears, I pressed through all
difficulties, and cast myself at the foot of free grace in Christ ; resolv-
ing that, if I did perish, it should be at mercy’s feet.
“But, before I proceed further, I would just sum up the effects of this
work of the Holy Ghost upon my soul. By this, he took me off from
the ground of self-dependence, and laid all my hopes of eternal happi-
ness upon a new foundation, even the free grace of God in Christ. By
this he made me low and loathsome in my own eyes, and made Christ
exceeding high and precious in my esteem. By this he made me long
for, and seek after, holiness as much as happiness; yea, to esteem it
an essential part thereof. And, in a word, by this he made God in
Christ all to me; and every thing else, nothing in comparison of him.
So that I could say with the Psalmist, (in respect of desire, though not
of appropriation,) “Whom have I in heaven but thee 1 and there is none
upon earth that I desire besides thee,” Psalm lxxiii. 25.
“In the next place, I would hint something of the means which
MRS. ANN DUTTON. 385
the Lord was pleased to make use of, in this work upon my heart. The
ministry of his word was blessed for increasing my concern and en-
Harging my desires; though I found not that soul-satisfying consola-
tion in it which I thirsted after. I waited at wisdom's gate with
earnest longings to find Christ; and every Lord’s-day the breathings
of my soul were wont to be, Oh that this might be the time wherein
I might find Jesus, and the manifestations of his love to my poor soul
And though I found not him whom my soul loved, to the satisfaction
of my desires; yet, I did not give over seeking, and my longings were
increased hereby.
“Again, the reading of God’s word was another means which was
greatly blessed to my soul, both for the discovery of my misery, and
the revelation of the remedy. The Psalms of David, and St. Paul’s
Epistles, were very precious to me. I saw such a transcendent excel-
lency in Christ, that my soul impatiently longed for the knowledge of
interest in him. Might I have had the whole world given me, ay,
thousands of them, had there been so many, they would all have been
to me but empty, unsatisfying trifles. And if I had but Christ, I
thought, I could freely bear all the miseries and distresses which his
can possibly be exposed to in this present time; esteeming it a far happier
state to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the plea-
sures of sin for a season. I saw such an inexpressible glory in his per-
son, as well as in his salvation, that he was to me all my desire l And
the thoughts of an everlasting separation from him, as the sum of all
perfection, and fountain of blessedness, wounded me to the quick. Oh
that word, ‘Depart from me, ye cursed l’ How did it pierce my heart 1
Oh, what abundance did I see in that little word me, “Depart from
me !? Oh, thought I, if the Lord would bid me depart from every thing
else, I could bear it: but how shall I endure it, if I am bid to depart
from him 4 I saw so much in Christ, that I judged none happy but such
who were interested in him ; and none miserable but those separated
from him. Yea, I saw that an interest in him, the fountain of blessed-
ness, was enough to make his unspeakably blessed in the most afflicted
condition that could possibly befall them. This shone forth gloriously
to me in those words, ‘Happy is that people that is in such a case : yea,
happy is that people whose God is the Lord.” The cxixth psalm was
also very precious to me. Oh, how has my soul breathed out its de-
sires to God, for life and holiness, in that psalm 4 I saw such a hate-
fulness in sin, that made me loathe it; and such an excellency in holi-
ness, that made it exceeding desirable to me. Insomuch, that I once
thought, ‘Well, if I must go to hell at last, I desire I may be holy here !’
This, though I can hardly account for, I well remember. A sense
of the wonderful goodness and forbearance of God did at that time
mightily overpower my heart; which, together with the suitableness of
holiness to the new nature wrought in my soul, I judge to be the reason
thereof. And I cannot but think, that there must have been some hopes .
that I should find mercy, at the bottom of it also, which wound up my
heart to that pitch of love to God and holiness; although I was so far
from assurance of it, that I put it as a question ; as, ‘ Suppose I should
not, or, if I should not find mercy at last, I desire I may be holy here !”
“And I may just mention a temptation with which I was assaulted.
When the Lord had shown me the plague of my own heart, the filthi-
49
386 MEMOIRS OF
ness of all my best performances, and wrought up my soul into hatred
of sin, and love to holiness, Satan set upon me thus: “You would not
sin against God for a world: your prayers are sin; therefore you should
not pray.’ And he backed his temtpation with this word: ‘The sacri-
fice (or prayer) of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord.” By
which I was struck down as with a thunderbolt, and filled with deep
distress. I had but this one way of venting the bitterness of my soul;
and if this was shut up, I knew not what to do. But it pleased the
Lord to deliver me from the power of this temptation in a little time, by
showing me that it was my duty to pray, and a great sin to neglect it;
and that though I could not pray without sin, yet, it was a greater sin
not to pray.
“As for converse with Christian friends, I had not that advantage,
by reason of a temptation, which I mostly lay under; that I should prove
but a hypocrite, that my concern would wear off as my former convic-
tions had done, and that I should return again to folly; and therefore
it was better to say nothing. I accordingly endeavoured to conceal my
trouble ; but it was too great to be hid fróm my dear parents. I could
never read in the family, but my deep concern was very visible, although
I strove to refrain tears. And I remember that one time in particular,
my dear father observing the same, took occasion to speak to me about
my soul, and would fain have known how it was with me. And though
I longed to tell him of my misery, and bewail my undone estate, yet,
lying under the above-mentioned temptation, I could say nothing, but
only broke out into a flood of tears.
“The concern of my soul was now exceeding great, beyond what I
had ever before been acquainted with, and was attended with this dif-
ference ; in all my former convictions I was glad to get my trouble off,
and ease of conscience as soon as possible. But now I dreaded nothing
more than that my concern should wear off, without a saving conversion
to Christ, and the Lord himself speaking life and comfort to my soul.
I knew that if I was left, in a state of unbelief, to find ease and rest any
where else than in the bosom of Christ, I must perish for ever; and there-
fore I had a great dread of carnal security. I was desirous to be wound-
ed to the quick, to be searched to the bottom, and to endure the pain of
my wounds, until Christ's own hand should heal me. And the know-
ledge I had that it was God’s usual way, first to kill and then to make
alive, was of great use to me, and afforded me some hopes, that the pre-
sent death and distress I was under, might be but in order to my joy
and life for evermore. And therefore I feared the least interval of dis-
tress, if not upon a right foundation.
“Another means the Lord was pleased to make use of, was a book
that was cast into my hands, which treated of the happiness and glory
of the saints in heaven, as it consists in a perfect enjoyment of God,
and conformity to him. This book was greatly blest to my soul, to
give me to see more of, and long more earnestly for, the transcendent
happiness of God’s people.”
“Thus I went on, one while in hopes, another while in fears, for
about four months; and no satisfaction could I get of my interest in
the Lord Jesus. *
“At length, it pleased the Lord to visit me with a very dangerous ill-
ness; a fever with convulsions in the nerves to a violent degree, so that
MRS. ANN DUTTON. 387
my life was despaired of. All means used for my recovery proving in-
effectual, I was given up by the physicians, and judged by all that saw
me to be very near death. My body was filled with exquisite pain;
but the agonies of my soul were a much greater distress. Death star-
ed me in the face. I thought myself just ready to launch into a vast
eternity, and knew not what would become of my poor soul. And ,
now my distress rose high indeed: the waves and billows of God’s
apprehended wrath passed over me. I sank in deep waters, where
there was no standing. Necessity was upon me; I must venture on
Christ or perish, believe, or die; and the conflict of my soul, between
faith- and unbelief, was exceeding great.g. Like a man drowning, I
catched at every twig"; I laboured to ºfold of the promises to keep
me from sinking. But if I got a little support one moment, my in-
numerable transgressions, as so many weights, came pressing in upon
me and sunk me the next. Oh here lay the difficulty, to believe for
myself in the face of so much sin and guilt The avenger of blood
was at my heels, Christ Jesus the hope of sinners was in my view:
my soul was fleeing for refuge to lay hold thereon, but oh the weights
which hung about me, did much hinder my motion, the speediness of
my flight ! My friends laboured to comfort me : But I have oft thought
this verse very expressive of my case at that time : jºr
“Kind was the pity of my friends,
But could not ease my smart:
Their words indeed did reach my case,
But could not reach my heart." **
“Nature conflicted with the disease some days, until, being quite
spent, I was brought in all appearance unto the point of death ; my
parents being put out of the room, that they might not see me depart.
I could not speak, but had my senses perfectly.
“And now, behold the time of my extremity was God's opportunity:
he made the storm a calm, and brought me to my desired haven. I
had faith given me in that word, ‘Him that cometh unto me, I will in
no wise cast out.” And oh, the infinite grace and faithfulness I saw in
it ! Now I could believe for myself in the face of ten thousand discou-
ragements. I came to Christ just as I was, a guilty, filthy, undone sin-
ner; Christ received me ; I trusted my soul with him, believing that
in infinite grace and faithfulness he would in no wise cast me out.
Thus I was enabled to take God at his word, and set to my seal that
He is true. Nothing less than the exceeding greatness of God’s
power could have raised up my soul from those depths of unbelieving
fears, to faith in Jesus ! It was nothing less than an Almighty voice,
that, with one word of free grace, could create peace in my troubled
soul, and cause both winds and waves to be still ſ”
“Now the day began to dawn; glorious light, even the light of life,
sprang in ; and death and darkness fled before it ! Now I could look
upon the near approach of my dissolution with comfort, and take plea-
sure in the views of eternity. Oh, thought I, before another hour I shall
be landed in glory ! And had I died then, I am well satisfied that my
soul had been exceeding safe in the arms of Christ.”
“But lo! my wonder-working God not only wrought wonders for my-,
soul, but for my body also. An unthought-of means was proposed to my
388 - MEMOIRS OF
parents, who had given me up, and designed to use no more. But, how-
ever, being pressed to make another experiment, they yielded. My
case was desperate; the remedy was so. A very skilful, though a very
profane person, ordered it. I received the potion, and it put nature into
a mighty struggle for a time ; but the Lord blessed it, and ordered its
operations for life. My convulsed motions ceased, and I strangely re-
vived, and could speak in a little time.” g
“But oh, the difference of my language I before had made my com-
plaint in the bitterness of my soul. But now my mouth was filled with
praises. Every corner of my soul being overflowed with love, life, and
peace. Oh the joy of God’s salvation, which I now felt It was indeed
unspeakable, and full of glory. I was raised from the gates of hell, to the
borders of heaven. And the depths I was raised from, made the heights
I was raised to the more amazing. I felt the rock beneath me ; and
my feet being securely fixed upon Christ, I looked with amazing wonder,
both upward and downward; downward to that horrible pit I was deli-
vered from, and upward to those heights of glory I should be raised to.
And oh, how I admired and adored distinguishing grace | Now I could
bless the Lord that ever I had a being, and in the joy of my heart, break
out thus: Oh, why me, why me, when thousands perish 4 How is it
thaf I should be a vessel of mercy, that have deserved to have been a
vessel of wrath for ever; that I should be saved by free grace What
#. of love is this, that has plucked me as a brand out of the burning,
w àp others are pased by, and left to perish, as the due desert of sin
“Bless the Lord, O my soul I and all that is within me, bless his holy
name !” I saw not only that Christ would not cast me out, but that he
received me to the glory of God, and that the Joy of God’s favour which
now filled my heart was an earnest of, ‘and would issue in, that ful-
ness of joy, and those rivers of pleasures, which are at his right hand for
evermore.’”
“A few days after this, I was so well recovered, as to be left alone in
my bed, it being market-day; but surely I may say I was never less alone
than at that time. The blessed Spirit did, as it were, take me by the hand,
and led me to take a survey of Christ, in all the steps of his humiliation,
from his birth to his death, as the man of sorrows, and acquainted with
grief for me. He led me to take a view of Christ on the cross, in the
agonies of his soul, and torments of his body, as bearing my sin, endur-
ing my hell, giving up himself a sacrifice in my room and stead; to re-
deem me from endless misery, to eternal glory. I viewed all my sins
meeting upon Jesus; and saw him wounded for my transgressions, and
bruised for mine iniquities. And oh, the infinity of grace which I saw,
both in the Father's and Christ's heart, in this wonderful contrivance of
infinite wisdom, to save me by a crucified Jesus ! In the finished work
of redemption, I viewed my salvatfon wrought out, and a perfection of
peace, pardon, life, and glory, come flowing down to me in the freest
grace, through the blood of Christ.”
“And oh the power of the cross The display of boundless grace
herein, set my soul a burning ! I looked, and loved 1 yea, I looked and
mourned The fire of Divine love melted my soul down, and made
mine eyes a fountain of tears l Now I looked on him whom I had
Pierced, and mourned indeed; with the sweetest, and yet the bitterest
mourning that ever my soul felt. The exceeding riches of grace in
MRS. ANN DUTTON. 389
the free, full, and eternal pardon of all my sins through a bleeding
Redeemer, filled my soul with unspeakable joy and sweetness; and yet,
at the same time, as I viewed my sins against Christ, meeting upon
him, piercing and wounding of him, I was in such bitterness for him,
that I never before found ! Oh, thought I, were my sins the whips and
nails? Did these cause his agonies, wound his soul, fill his bitter cup ;
which, in infinite love, he drank off for me ! Oh vile worm that I am I
Oh hateful sin thou art the most loathsome, abominable thing in my
sight ! It was me the dear Lord Jesus loved, and yet it was I that
pierced him : And oh, how this pierced my soul | Thus I was in bit-
terness for him; which yet was very consistent with those unspeakable
joys of redeeming love, which at the same time filled my heart.
This was one of the sweetest days I have enjoyed in this world.
And in a word, the manifestations of God’s love to my soul in this
affliction were so great, that I have thought I could freely endure
the same agonies again, if I might have the same comforts. But, to
O OIl.
“The Lord raised me up from a sick bed, from death to life both in
soul and body. I was, as it were, brought forth into a new world: all
things appeared new to me. I conversed with new objects; or rather
in a new manner with the same glorious objects I had some glimmer-
ings of before. I felt new afflictions, desires, delights, &c. I found
myself delivered from Mount Sinai, and brought to Mount Sion, the city
of the living God. Religious duties were now very precious to me, such
as hearing, reading, praying, meditation, and converse with Christians;
and much of God I enjoyed in them. The saints were now my own
company: I esteemed them the excellent of the earth, in whom was all
my delight. Lord’s-days were the joy of my heart, Sabbaths indeed to
me. And the soul-rest of my faith which I enjoyed thereon, received
an additional sweetness, as I viewed it an earnest of my eternal rest in
the bosom of Christ. In short, my conversation was in heaven, and the
world, sin, and Satan, under my feet. ...And I was ready to think should
always live so ; the sin of my nature being at this time so mightily
borne down by those full tides of love and life, which overflowed my
heart. But, alas! I soon found that I was not got out of the reach of my
spiritual enemies. e
“As I was engaged in devout meditation, a vile thought darted into
my mind, which struck me with a strange surprise; and I was straight-
way assaulted with a violent temptation, namely, that all the experience
I had of the Lord’s loving kindness was but mere delusion. Those
words came thundering in upon me with amazing terror, “God shall
send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie; that they
all might be damned.’ And thus Satan applied them : “That I had
even wearied God with my incessant prayers; and that therefore he
had given me up to this strong delusion, to believe my safety in Christ,
which was indeed but a lie; that so I might be damned and go to hell
quietly.” And the vile thought above mentioned, he called in as a wit-
ness of my being still in a state of sin. I had been rejoicing in Christ
as mine. But oh, the thoughtºf being deceived, and that my very com-
fort was but a delusion, sent on purpose that I might go to hell se-
curely,–what agony and torment did it put my soul into ! I was, as it
were, snatched from the bosom of Christ, and plunged into the belly of
390 MEMOIRS OF
hell. And, alas ! I knew not what to say to Satan, nor how to defend
myself. This thought that passed through my heart was unexpected
to me; and I knew not how to reconcile it with my being in a state of
grace.
“But in my distress I ran to God, and showed before him all my
trouble. I poured out my complaint into his bosom, and he was gra-
ciously pleased to send me an answer of peace immediately. Before I
got off my knees, Romans, vii. 15, was brought to mind with great light
and glory. Oh then it was that the Lord, the Spirit, did first open to me
the mystery of sin and grace, the pew and old nature both dwelling
together in my poor soul; and that I must expect a conflict, and had no
reason to question his work upon my heart, because I found such con-
trarieties thereto working in me. The experience of the great apostle
did also give me a mighty lift, where he says, “That which I do, I
allow not; for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I.
Now if I do what I would not, it is no more I that do it, but sin that
dwelleth in me,’ &c. And having with him groaned out my own
wretchedness by reason of an indwelling body of sin and death, I was
made, in believing views of deliverance, to give thanks to God, through
Christ Jesus my Lord ; and to conclude as he doth, “So then with the
mind I myself serve the law of God, but with the flesh the law of sin.”
Thus the Lord gave me the victory at this time : and the instructions I
then received, have been of use to my soul ever since. . *
“Quickly after this, I was assaulted with blasphemous thoughts,
attended with a strong impulse to utter them; which put my soul to
pain. But, blessed be my God, this lasted but a little while : he rebuk-
ed the devourer, enabled me to run into Christ my refuge, and there I
found peace and safety. I was also tempted to question the being of
God, which was very distressing while it lasted. But through grace
I was soon delivered. And many were the combats I had with Satan
and unbelief, about my interest in the Lord Jesus. - And when I knew
not what to think, whether I was a believer or not, I have many times
been helped to come to Christ as a poor sinner, just as I came at first ;
being sweetly drawn by the indefinite promises of the gospel to venture
on Christ afresh, to cast myself into his arms, to come to him with ali
my weights and burdens: and in his bosom I always found rest.
“I remember once, as I was attempting to come to Christ weary and
heavy laden, that word was again brought to my mind with great power
and sweetness, ‘Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast
out.” So that I was filled with exceeding gladness in the views of my
safety in Christ's arms. But presently Satan came in with a temptation,
thus: ‘You come to Christ as a poor sinner, and think he will receive
you as such : but he receives none but such as are given him of his Fa-
ther; and if you are not one of those, your coming $9 Christ will signify
nothing ; you will be cast out notwithstanding: it is those whom his
Father has given him, that he will in no wise cast out.” Oh, the pain
and distress this cast my soul into ! Now I knew not what to do. How-
ever, I ran immediately to God, and told him how I had been robbed
and spoiled of my comfort; and prayed him to give me some other word
of promise, or else to bring the same again, with such mighty power,
that nothing might be able to take away my joy of faith in it. And
his ear being open to my cry, he presently gave me an answer to my
MRS. ANN DUTTON. 391
request. The same word was brought again with such power, light,
and glory, that made Satan and unbelief fly before it. “All that the
Father giveth me, shall come to me.” Here I saw, that the Father’s
gift of any soul to Christ, was antecedent to its coming to him; and
also that it did secure its coming; that all the given ones shall come
under the Father's drawings, and that none but they could come; and
then from the latter part of the words I saw, that so coming, I should
in no wise be cast out. But oh, the glorious light that now filled my
heart 1 I saw, with amazing wonder, that eternal security I had, both
in the Father's and in Christ's hands ! I viewed my standing in the
Father's grace, as a given one to Christ; and that it was nothing less
than the Almighty power of his own arm, that drew my soul to Jesus;
and that being thus brought by the Father to Christ, he would keep
me safe for ever. Thus the Lord brought me out of darkness and the
shadow of death, and brake my bands in sunder. Many were the temp-
tations which at times I met with ; but out of them all the Lord deli-
vered me. And, for the most part, I walked comfortably on in the
light of God’s countenance. And it was but a little while ere the Lord
broke in with glorious light, in that word : ‘I will come again, and
receive you to myself, that where I am, there ye may be also.” I had
been just before thinking of the unspeakable happiness of the saints at
home with Christ, in that they were ever present with the Lord.
And oh how suitable was this word to me, while mourning under ab-
sence 1 My dear Lord opened his heart to me herein, and told me,
that it would be but a little while ere he would receive me to himself,
that where he was, I might be also ; and that then I should be everlast-
ingly filled with the enjoyment of him whom my soul loved. But oh,
how I rejoiced in my happy lot, to be for ever with him . Thus my
communion with Christ began. And that evening I had such disco-
veries of his love to my soul, and of that eternal glory he had prepared
for me, which filled me with joy unspeakable : and I thought eternity
little enough to praise him for that visit. Oh the realizing views, and
sweet foretastes I then had of the good land. -
“But, alas ! all this while, babe-like, I rather lived upon promises
given in, than upon Christ in them. I knew not how to believe without
sight. So long as God’s love flowed into my soul, and my love flowed
out to him again, under the attraction of his first love, just so long I
could believe. But when the sweet sensation abated, my faith began
to sink with it. But my kind Lord always brought me some cordial or
other to support me in my fainting fits. After this manner I was car-
ried on for a year, or little more, (as near as I can remember,) before.
ºlºr brought me to some stability, and strength of faith in the
alſk.
“Thus I have given a brief, though a broken account of the work
of Divine grace updfi my heart in a saving conversion to Christ. The
glory of it is much marred by the shortness of my memory. But,
however, I may sum up what I have said in the words of the Psalmist,
“I waited patiently for the Lord, and he inclined unto me and heard
my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry
clay, and set my feet upon a rock.” He likewise, after this, was gra-
ciously pleased to establish my goings.
“It pleased the Lord, in the fifteenth year of my age, to incline my
392 MEMOIRS OF
heart to join with a church of Christ in N. over which the late Mr. H.
was pastor. Under his ministry being fed with the milk of the word,
which was suited to my present state, I grew thereby. So that, from pre-
cious experience of the Lord’s loving-kindness in Sion, I could say with
the Psalmist : “A day in thy courts is better than a thousand : I had
rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than dwell in the tents
of wickedness.” The sight of God’s power and glory in the sanctuary,
was precious to my soul, and fellowship with the saints was sweet. But
yet, as I hinted before, I too much lived upon enjoyments, and took up
God’s love to me, as to the steady persuasion of it, in the light of my
own sanctification. I delighted to have my interest in Christ tried by all
the marks and signs of a believer, which were continually laid down in
the ministry. When I could find them, my heart was filled with joy;
but, if there were any I did not clearly discern, I sunk in sorrow. I
was willing to have my faith in the promise tried by the fruits and ef-
fects of it in my heart and life. And so childish was I, that I looked for
the effects of faith, when faith was not in exercise : which is just as
if a person should look for the beauty of the spring in the autumn sea-
son, or seek to know what o'clock it is by the dial, when the sun does
not shine on it. And while I went this way to work, I never attained
settled assurance. No, the soul that enters into this rest by faith, must
have somewhat more stable than fleeting frames to lean on. To go
on then.
“Such was the wonderful kindness of my God, that after I believed
I was sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise, it pleased the Lord to take
me by the arms, and teach me to go in the way of faith, when I had
not spiritual sense. I had been once, I remember, at a meeting of
prayer; but, not meeting with God in it, I returned very sad. And as
I was lamenting my case, that word was brought to my mind, ‘Rejoice
in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.” But my heart straight-
way replied, ‘I have not enjoyed God to-night, and how can I rejoice P
Then the word broke in again upon my heart with such a ray of glo-
rious light, that directed my soul to the true and proper object of its joy,
even the Lord himself. I was pointed hereto as with a finger, “In the
Lord, not in your frames. In the Lord ; not in what you enjoy from
him, but in what you are in him.’ And the Lord sealed my instruction,
and filled my heart brimful of joy, in the faith of my eternal interest
and unchangeable standing in him, and of his being an infinite foun-
tain of blessedness for me to rejoice in alway, even when the streams
of sensible enjoyments failed. Thus the blessed Spirit took me by the
arms, and taught me to go. :- .
“But yet, I was attended with much weakness, and oft ready to
stagger through unbelief. And at such seasons, I was for putting forth
my hand to lay hold on past experiences; the remembrance of which
at times has been precious to my soul. But when I sought for my
satisfactions from hence, instead of deriving all my life and comfort
from Christ by fresh acts of faith, the Lord in great mercy was pleased
to draw a veil over his work upon my soul, and direct me to stay.my-
self upon my God, even when I walked in the dark as to present enjoy-
ments, and had not the light of past experience. And this was to:
make me die unto a life of sense, in order to raise me up to an higher
life of faith upon the Son of God. . - { * * . . . .
MRS. ANN DUTTON. 393
“And to this end, the Lord the Spirit went on to reveal Christ more
and more to me, as the great foundation of my faith and joy. He show-
ed me my everlasting standing in his person, grace, and righteousness;
and gave me to see my security in his unchangeableness, under all the
changes which passed over me. And then I began to rejoice in my
dear Lord Jesus as always the same, even when my frames altered.
And further, my heart was directed into the everlasting love of the
Father, and the immutability of his eternal counsels and covenant about
my salvation, as the ground of my strong consolation, under all the
mutations I felt in my own soul. That word was very precious to me,
‘Wherein God, willing more abundantly to show unto the heirs of pro-
mise the immutability of his counsel, confirmed it by an oath; that by
two immutable things, in which it was impossible for God to lie, we
might have a strong consolation,’ &c. Oh the grace and faithfulness
of God which I saw in it ! The Holy Ghost took the word in pieces,
and led me into every part of it, and likewise confirmed it by other
scriptures. Thus the Lord began to establish me, and settle my faith
upon its solid basis. About this time also, the Lord was pleased
mightily to impress upon my heart the great duty of taking God at his
word, in the declarations of his grace in his Son, and likewise of credit-
ing the Holy Ghost’s testimony in my soul in the word of promise; by
means of which, I was enabled to resist the temptations I met with to
cast away my confidence.
“I have likewise experienced, when assaulted by Satan and unbelief,
that by an immediate flight to Christ I have got the victory many a
time. I found it a vain thing to stand disputing with these enemies
about my past experience. And being in some good measure inured
to a life of faith, I hasted away to Christ upon the first assault. And
I have often found, that a direct act of faith, or a fresh venture on
Christ, has been attended with a reflex act,” or a full persuasion of
my eternal safety in him, as having fled for refuge to lay hold on this
hope set before me. For I saw it my duty, not only to obey the com-
mand of God in believing on the name of his Son Jesus Christ, but
also to take him at his word, as to my having eternal life in him as
such. An instance or two of my experience in this kind I may just
mention.
“I was once rejoicing in the Lord, and in the wondrous blessings which
surrounded me in him ; and Satan came boldly in upon me, and told
me, ‘That I was rejoicing in that which was none of mine ;’ and
urged, that I was not a believer. Upon which, I stood not to dispute
with him about my past acts of faith, as I had too often done, but an-
swered him thus: “Well, if I never have believed yet, it is time for
me to do it now.” And immediately I attempted a fresh act of faith.
I queried with myself thus: How is it with me now at this very
moment 4 Do I see Christ to be a full, free, mighty Saviour ! And is it
the command of God that I should believe on him whom he hath
sent Then let me venture on him for myself. And that word came
in, ‘Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that believeth on me hath ever-
lasting life.” I saw that believing was venturing, casting, trusting my
* This was a common distinction among old divines themselves, but a very inaccurate one.
Every act of faith is direct. What they quaintly called the refler act, was a reflecting on the
act; and matter of experience rather than of faith.
50
394 MEMOIRS OF
soul in the hands of Jesus. And while I attempted to commit myself
to him, I felt power enabling me to Cast myself, as an undone sinner
in myself, for all salvation, into the arms of Christ, as the mighty Sa-
viour of God’s providing. And upon this direct act of faith, I attempted
a reflex act, or a believing that I then had everlasting life in him, taking
up my persuasion hereof upon the infinite truth and faithfulness of
Christ’s word. And strong was my consolation, while I believed Christ's
Verily, verily, &c. The words were thus opened to me : ‘Verily,
verily;” a double asseveration, giving the highest assurance of the
thing to which it is annexed. “I say unto you :’ I that know both
mine and my Father's heart, counsels, and designs about the salvation
of sinners: I that am truth itself, and cannot lie or be unfaithful.” “I
say unto you, he that believeth on me hath everlasting life.” He
hath it in the right of it, as mine and my Father’s grant. He hath
it really, let sin and Satan say what they will to contradict it. He
hath it irreversibly, unalterably; and none of the powers of darkness
can hinder it. But oh, the triumph of faith I then broke forth into
“For, as Christ is “able to save to the uttermost all them that come
unto God by him,” Heb. vii. 25, so, he is as willing as he is able. The
infinite willingness of his heart is as large as the almighty power of his
arm. What encouragement then hast thou to come to Christ, who has
promised to give thee rest; to cast thyself into his arms, and stay upon
his grace, power, and faithfulness, who has declared that he “will in
no wise cast out’ any poor sinner that comes unto him, the great Saviour.
He has given thee his great word, that he is willing to save thee. Canst
thou believe it ! Or darest thou, through unbelief, give him the lie
Ah, poor soul | Christ has been beforehand with thee in willingness.
If he had not been first willing to save thee, thou hadst never been made
willing to be saved by him. His love has been a love preventing thee.
He did not stay for thy willingness, but began thy salvation in giving
thee a new nature before thou began to breathe after it; that so thou
mightest desire life, and come to him for it. How welcome then shalt
thou be to his gracious heart and open arms | Thou canst not please him
better than to come to him just as thou art, a miserable, helpless, undone
sinner, for all the mercy, grace, and salvation thou wantest. He will not
send thee away empty. He has said, “Open they mouth wide, and I will
fill it,” Psal. lxxxi. 10. Thou canst not ask more grace than he has to
bestow, and is willing to give. He delights to fill such needy, empty
souls as thou art. This was the great end of his death : his heart was
so willing to save thee, that he died for thee, that he might accomplish
it. Yea, so intense was his desire to save thee, that thy salvation was:
part of the joy set before him, for which he endured the cross. He .#
pleasure in the thoughts of it so long since ; and the joy of it, foreview-
ed, carried him through the agonies of death. And now the bitter work
is over, and be is advanced to the right hand of God, having all power
in heaven and earth given him, that he might give eternal life to sin-
ners; dost thou think his heart is changed 4 No ; as he died for thee on
the cross, so, he lives for thee on the throne. He is “Jesus Christ, the
same,” in his boundless love, grace, and mercy, ‘yesterday, to-day, and
for ever, Heb. xiii. 8. He is not now to die for thee; though such
is his unchangeable grace, that, if it were yet to do, he would go through
death to save thee; but, blessed be God, that work is done, for ever done,
*
MRS. ANN DUTTON. 895
and full salvation, eternal redemption obtained. And having purposed
to save thee by the Almighty power of his arm, dost thou think he will
now deny thy request, when to do it would be to deny himself, not only
in the grace of his heart, but in the very end of his death And canst
thou think that his love, that is strong enough to die for thee, will not
give thee life, when he can save thee now with a word of his mouth ! Oh
believe it, the willingness of Christ’s heart to save thee, doth infinitely
surpass the largest desires of thy soul after his salvation. What should
hinder thee, then, from an immediate running into Christ’s bosom, since
there is such room for thee in his heart 1 I dare say, nothing but thy un-
belief; and, blessed be God, that shall not hinder thee always, neither.
But, if thou still doubtest his willingness to embrace thee, I will only say,
as Philip to Nathanael, “Come and see:’ come and try his boundless
grace, and see if it be not every way as large as the omnipotent power
of his arm Oh come and cast thyself at the Saviour’s feet, and say, as
that poor man did, who was full of leprosy, ‘Lord, if thou wilt, thou
canst make me clean.” And Jesus, in the infinity of his grace, will
answer thee as he did him, and say, ‘I will, be thou clean.’”
We learn incidentally from the subsequent account which Mrs. Dut-
ton gives of the dispensations of Providence towards her, that she enter-
ed into the marriage state when she was but two and twenty years of
age. No particulars are given, but she appears not to have long surviv-
ed her marriage. She may probably be ranked with those instances of
premature ripeness of character which God seems to honour by an early
removal of the individual from a world of temptation and sorrow into
the presence of their Lord.
L.A. D Y H U NT IN G D O N.
SELINA, Countess of Huntingdon, was the daughter of Washington,
Earl Ferrers. She was born August 24, 1707, and married June 3, 1728,
to Théophilus, Earl of Huntingdon.
When about nine years old, seeing the corpse of a child about her own
age carried by to the grave, she was led to attend the funeral; and there
the first impressions of deep concern about an eternal world laid hold of
her conscience ; and with many tears she cried earnestly on the spot to
God, that whenever he should be pleased to call her hence, he would de-
liver her from all her fears, and give her a happy departure: she often
afterwards visited the grave, and always preserved a lively sense of the
affecting scene. -
Though no clear views of evangelical truth had hitherto been open-
ed to her mind, she frequently retired to her closet, and poured out her
heart to God. When she grew up, and was introduced into the world,
she constantly prayed, that if she married, it might be into a serious fa-
mily. None kept up more of the ancient dignity of English nobility,
or were more amiable in a moral wiew, than the house of Huntingdon,
with the head of which family she became united. Lady Betty and
Lady Margaret Hastings, his lordship's sisters, were women of singular
excellence.
Her sister-in-law, Lady Margaret, was brought to the saving know-
ledge of the gospel under the preaching of the zealous Methodists of
that time. Conversing one day with Lady Margaret on this subject,
Lady Huntingdon was very much struck with an expression which she
uttered, “That since she had known and believed in the Lord Jesus
Christ for life and salvation, she had been as happy as an angel.” To
any such sensations of happiness, Lady H. felt that she was as yet a
stranger. A dangerous illness having soon after this brought her to
the brink of the grave, the fear of death fell terribly upon her, and her
conscience was greatly distressed. Under these affecting circumstan-
ces, the words-of Lady Margaret returned strongly to her recollection,
and she felt an earnest desire, renouncing all other hope, to cast her-
self wholly upon Christ. She lifted up her heart to Jesus the Saviour
in prayer, on which her distress and fear were removed, and she was
filled with joy and peace in believing. Her disorder soon took a fa-
vourable turn, and she was not only restored to perfect health, but,
what was infinitely better, to newness of life, and determined thencefor-
ward to present herself to God “as a living sacrifice, holy and accepta-
ble,” which she was now convinced was her “reasonable service.”
The change which Divine grace thus wrought upon her, soon became
observable to all around, by the open confession which she made of the
faith once delivered to the saints, and by the zealous support whiêh she
gave to the cause of God, amidst all the reproach with which it was at-
tended. She had set her face as a flint, and was not ashamed of Christ
and his cross. There were not wanting indeed some who unger the
*~s
LADY HUNTINGDON. 397
guise of friendship, wished Lord Huntingdon to interpose his authority;
but, however he differed from her in sentiment, he continued to show
her the same affection and respect, and, on his demise, left her the entire
management of her children and of their fortunes.
Some of the dignified clergy were not so candid and liberal, as ap-
pears from the following authentic anecdote. Her ladyship, one day,
in conversation with Dr. Benson, bishop of Gloucester, (who had been
the tutor of Lord H. and had ordained Mr. Whitefield,) pressed him
so hard with the articles and homilies, and so plainly and faithfully urged
upon him the awful responsibility of his station, that his temper was
ruffled, and he rose in haste to depart, bitterly lamenting that he had
ever laid his hands on George Whitefield, to whom he imputed, though
without cause, the change wrought in her Ladyship: “My Lord,” said
she, calling him back, “mark my words: when you come upon your
dying bed, that will be one of the few ordinations you will reflect upon
with complacence.” It deserves remark, that bishop Benson on his dying
bed sent ten guineas to Mr. Whitefield, as a token of his favour, and
begged to be remembered by him in his prayers.
During Lord Huntingdon’s life, his countess warmly espoused the
*ause of God and truth, though her means of usefulness were necessa-
rily circumscribed, and her family engagements occupied much of her
time and attention. Become her own mistress, she resolved to devote
herself wholly to the service of Christ. Her zealous heart embraced
cordially all whom she esteemed real Christians, whatever their deno-
mination or opinions might be ; but being herself in sentiment more
congenial withºſr. Whitefield, than the Mr. Wesleys, she favoured
those especially who were the ministers of the Calvinistic persuasion,
according to the literal sense of the Articles of the Church of England.
With an intention of giving them a greater scene of usefulness, she open-
ed her house in Park-street for the preaching of the gospel, supposing
that, as a peeress of the realm, she had an indisputable right to employ,
as her family chaplains, those ministers of the church whom she patro-
mised. On the week days, her kitchen was filled with the poor of the
flock, for whom she provided instruction ; and on the Lord’s-day, the
great and noble were invited to spend the evening in her drawing-room,
where Mr. Whitefield, Mr. Romaine, Mr. Jones, and other ministers of
Christ, were heard with apparently deep and serious attention.
The illness of her younger son, which proved fatal, had led her Lady-
ship to Brighthelmstone, for the sake of sea-bathing. There, the fol-
lowing singular circumstance occurred, which Lady H. related to Mr.
Toplady, and which is published from his own manuscript in his post-
humous works. A gentlewoman, who lived in the vicinity of Bright-
helmstone, dreamed that a tall lady, whose dress she particularly noticed,
would come to that town, and be an instrument of doing much gºod.
It was about three years after this dream, that Lady H. went down
thither, on the occasion already mentioned. One day, the above.,
gentlewoman met her Ladyship in the street, and, on seeing her, ex-
claimed, “O, madam you are come !” Lady H., surprised at the
oddity of such an address from an entire stranger, thought at first
the woman was out of her senses. “What do you know of me !” said
the Countess. “Madam,” returned the person, “I saw you in a dream
three years ago, dressed just as you appear now,”—and related the
398 MEMOIRS OF
whole of the dream to her. In consequence of the acquaintance which
was then formed between them, Lady H. was made instrumental in
her conversion, and she died about a year after in the triumph of faith.
In selecting preachers for the supply of her chapels, Lady Hun-
tingdon at first confined herself to the ministers of the Established
Church, many of whom accepted her invitation, and laboured in the
places which she had opened. But her zeal enlarging with her success,
and a great variety of persons throughout the kingdom begging her
assistance, in London and many of the most populous cities, she pur-
chased, built, or hired chapels for the performance of Divine service.
As these multiplied through England, Ireland, and Wales, the mi-
nisters who had before laboured for her Ladyship were unequal to the
task; and some were unwilling to move in a sphere so extensive, and
which began to be branded as irregular, and to meet great opposition.
Many, however, persevered in their services, and were content to
bear the cross. In order to provide proper persons for the work of the
ministry, her Ladyship now retired to South Wales, and erected a
chapel and college in the parish of Talgarth, Brecknockshire. The
chapel was opened in 1768. The college was provided with able
teachers, and soon filled with students. From that retirement, La
Huntingdon despatched the requisite supplies for the increasing con-
gregations under her patronage ; and as the calls were ºften urgent,
her students were too frequently thrust forth into the harvest, before
they had made any considerable proficiency in the languages or in sacred
literature, in which it had been her intention that they should be in-
structed. Few of them knew much more than their native tongue ; yet,
being men of strong sense and real devotedness to God, their ministry
was greatly blessed, and the accounts of their success animated her to
greater exertions. They were itinérant—moved from congregation to
congregation in a rotation ; and her correspondence with them, to regu-
late and provide a constant supply, was a labour to which her active
spirit alone was equal. The seminary in Wales ceased at her lady-
ship's death, the lease being just expired, and no endowment being
left, as her income died with her.
Her Ladyship still devising plans for the diffusion of the Gospel, es-
pecially in places where Satan had his seat, erected, in the year
1769, a chapel at Tunbridge Wells, so much frequented at that time
by the great and gay of the metropolis, and still a place of fashion-
able resort. Nor was the metropolis itself, that emporium of error and
dissipation, forgotten by her benevolent and ardent mind. A large
building in Spa-Fields, called the Pantheon, had been erected for
entertaining parties of pleasure, especially on the Lord’s-day. The
Rev. Herbert Jones and William Taylor, two clergymen under
the patronage of Lady Huntingdon, engaged the place for religious
worship; and it was opened, July 6, 1777, with a sermon by the
former clergyman on the appropriate text, Gen. xxviii. 19, “And
he (Jacob) called the name of that place Bethel; but the name of
that city was called Luz at the first.” The place will contain more
than two thousand. This chapel, however, soon became an object of
dislike to the strict members of the Establishment. Accordingly, a suit
was , instituted by the minister of the parish of Clerkenwell, in the
consistorial court of the Bishop of London, against the two clergymen
º
LADY HUNTINGDON. 399
who officiated there. To that spiritual court they were summoned,
and were forbidden to preach there any longer on pain of expulsion
from the Church. They chose to obey God rather than man; and
Lady Huntingdon having purchased the chapel, several clergyman
seceded from the Established Church, and put themselves under the
protection of the Toleration Act. These clergymen drew up and sub-
scribed a confession of faith : which was afterwards signed by all the
ministers in her Ladyship's connexion, and by candidates for ordination.
The first six were ordained in Spa-Fields Chapel, March 9,1783, by
the Rev. Messrs. Wills and Taylor. The doctrines taught in all the
Countess's chapels are strictly evangelical, and the episcopalian mode of
worship is adhered to, though some alterations are made in the liturgy,
and in the offices for baptism and burial.
Some years afterwards, Lady Huntingdon purchased another large
place in Whitechapel, which had been intended for a theatre, and was
constructed accordingly. No material alterations were deemed neces-
sary ; and it was, perhaps, proper to show, by substantial and perma-
nent signs the triumph of wisdom and goodness over folly and vice.
The dressing-rooms for the actors were converted into a vestry, and the
pulpit is erected on the front of the stage. The pit is filled with the
poor, to whom the gospel is preached; while the galleries exhibit the
more respect ºle hearers. The place will hold five thousand persons;
it received the name of Sion Chapel. These were her Ladyship's
principal chapels. There are several others of less note.
Though Lady Huntingdon devoted the whole of her substance to the
Gospel, yet, it is not a little surprising how her income sufficed for the
immense expense in which she was necessarily involved. Her jointure
was no more than twelve hundred pounds a year; nor was it till after
the death of her son, a few years preceding her own, that she had
the addition of another thousand. She often involved herself in ex-
penses for building chapels, which she found it burdensome to dis-
charge; but Divine Providence brought her always honourably through
her engagements, and provided a supply when her own was exhausted.
Lady Huntingdon's person, endowments, and spirit, were all uncom-
mon. She was rather above the middle size: her presence noble, and
commanding respect ; her address singularly engaging; her intelli-
gence acute; her diligence indefatigable ; and the constant labour of
her correspondence inconceivable. During forty-five years of widow-
hood, she devoted her time, talents, and substance, to the support and
diffusion of the Gospel. To the age of fourscore and upwards, she
maintained all the vigour of youth ; and though, in her latter years,
the contraction of her throat reduced her almost wholly to a liquid
diet, her spirits never seemed to fail her. To the very last days of
her life, her active mind was planning still greater and more extensive
schemes of usefulness, for the universal spread of the Gospel of Christ.
Her most distinguishing excellence was, the fervent zeal which
always burned in her bosom, to make known the Gospel of the grace
of God. This no disappointments quenched, no labours slackened, no
opposition discouraged, no progress of years abated : it flamed strong-
est in her latest moments. The world has seldom seen such a cha-
racter. Thousands and tens of thousands will have reason, living
and dying, to bless her memory, as having been the happy instrument
400 MEMOIRs of
of bringing them out of darkness-into marvellous light; and multi-
tudes saved by her instrumentality, have met her in the regions of
glory, to rejoice together in the presence of God and of the Lamb.
But it may be asked, Was she a perfect character'ſ This is not the lot
of mortals on this side the grave. When the moon walketh in her bright-
ness, her shadows are most visible. Lady Huntingdon was in her temper
warm and sanguine : her predilections for some, and her prejudices
against others, were sometimes too hastily adopted, and by these, she
was led to form conclusions not always correspondent to truth and wis-
dom. The success attending her efforts, seemed to impress her mind with
a persuasion, that a particular benediction would rest upon whom-
soever she should send forth ; which rendered her choice not always
judicious, though seldom have there been fewer offences in so extended
a work. She had so long directed the procedures of her ecclesiastical
connexion, that she too seldom asked the advice of the judicious mi-
nisters who laboured with her; and bore not passively contradiction.
For many years, Lady Huntingdon had two female companions,
who lived with her on terms of the most cordial friendship, Miss Scutt,
and Lady Ann Erskine ; the latter, sister to the Earl of Buchan, and
to the two famous counsellors of that name. These ladies, particular-
ly the latter, co-operated with the countess in her work and labour of
Christian love. Both were constantiy present during he last illness.
In the month of November, 1790, Lady Huntingdon broke a blood-
vessel, which was the commencement of her last illness. Being then
asked how she did, by the Lady Ann, she replied, “I am well ; all is
well I well for ever ! I see, wherever I turn my eyes, whether I live
or die, nothing but victory.” As death drew nearer, though it was
delayed for some months, she often repeated with great emphasis,
“The coming of the Lord draweth nigh ! O Lady Ann, the coming
of the Lord draweth nigh!” adding, “The thought fills my soul with
joy unspeakable, whether I shall see his glory more abundantly ap-
pear, or whether it be an intimation of my own departure to him.” At
another time : “All the little ruffles and difficulties which surround me,
and all the pains I am exercised with in this poor body, through mercy,
affect not the settled peace and joy of my soul.
To a friend who called on her a few weeks before her death, she said,
“I see myself a poor worm drawing near to Jesus. What hope could I
entertain if I did not know the efficacy of his blood, and turn as a pri-
soner of hope to this hold'ſ How little could any thing of mine give
a moment’s rest to a departing soul | So much sin and self mixed with
the best, and always so short of what we owe l—”T is well for us that
he can pity and pardon ; and we have confidence that he will do so. —
I confess, my dear friend, I have no hope, but that which inspired the
dying malefactor at the side of my Lord; and I must be saved in the
same way, as freely, as fully, or not at all.” He replied, “Madam, I
cordially join you, and feel with you, that though our lives may be devo-
ted to the work of Jesus, and our deaths the consequence of his service,
it is not to these sacrifices we should look “ for comfort in a dying hour.”
She replied, “No, verily ;”—and enlarging, on the idea of the mixture
of infirmity and corruption which tarnished all our best-meant services,
she added; “That a sinner could only rest satisfactorily on one founda-
tion, and would find nothing in the best works of his best days, that he
LADY HUNTINGDON. 401
#
could dare to produce before God for its own sake; sufficiently blessed
and secure, if he could but cry, God be merciful to me a sinner, and let
me be found in the beloved, and complete in him.” To these, in the
course of a long conversation, were added many like words of truth and
grace.'
During the whole of her illness, her pains never made her impatient;
but she seemed more concerned about those who attended her, than
about herself. She said tenderly to Lady Ann Erskine and Miss
Scutt, whose long, faithful, and tender attachment to her is well known,
“I fear I shall be the death of you both” (alluding to their constant
watching with her);-“it will be but a few days more.”
But a few days before her decease, Lady Huntingdon said to a
friend; “I cannot tell you in what light I now see these words: ‘If
a man love me, he will keep my words, and my Father will love him,
and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.” To have
in this room such company, and to have such an eternal prospect 1 I
see this subject now in a light impossible to be described. I know my
capacity will be then enlarged, but I am now as sensible of the pre-
sence of God, as I am of the presence of those I have with me.”
On the very day of her death, she conversed about sending mission-
aries to Otaheite. She had often in her lifetime mentioned, that, from
the first moment that God set her soul at liberty, she had such a desire
for the conversion of souls, that she compared herself to a ship in full
sail before the wind, and that she was carried on by such a Divine in-
fluence as was not easily to be described. Almost her last words
were, “My work is done, I have nothing to do but to go to my Father.”
Her Ladyship died at her house in Spa-Fields, next door to the chapel,
June 17, 1791, in the 84th year of her age.
The body, according to a direction somewhat whimsical, was clothed
in a suit of white silk, with the same head-dress which her Ladyship
usually wore, and in that attire was buried in the family vault, at
Ashby-de-la-Zouch, in Leicestershire. Her funeral sermon was preach-
ed at Spa-Fields Chapel, on Lord’s-day, July 3, 1791, by the Rev.
David Jones of Llangan, on Genesis, li. 24. “And Joseph said unto
his brethren, Behold I die, and God will surely visit you.”
51 *
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
LADY ANN AGNES ERSKINE.
GENUINE greatness and nobility, a heathen observed, were to be found
alone in exalted virtue; and we know that those great in the sight of
the Lord are not usually to be found in high rank, or titled ; “not many
mighty, not many noble, are called.” Yet some singular exceptions are
happily seen, demonstrating that the Lord hath in his hand the hearts of
all men; and where such rare instances occur, they necessarily stand
on an eminence, and engage more particular attention.
The noble lady, who is the subject of this Memoir, was the daughter
of the Earl of Buchan, by a lady of the House of Stuart, and the eldest
of a numerous family; the surviving branches of which are still the first
ornaments of the bar in England and Scotland, and more distinguished
by their talents and integrity, than even by the nobility of their descent.
The great grandfather of Lady Ann was a man of distinguished piety,
and a considerable sufferer in the cause of religious profession, in the
days of 'Charles the Second ; and as the names of Ralph and Ebenezer
Erskine have received a stamp of especial reverence in the religious world,
it may not be uninteresting to observe, that they were branches of this
family. The house in which they lived is preserved by the present
Lord Buchan, in its primitive state, as a relic and memorial of them.
, Her early days were spent in Scotland. . She mentioned to a lady, her
acquaintance, the gracious dealings of the Lord, when she was only
about seven or eight years old. Her maid was reading to her a little book
of the nature of Janeway’s Token for Children; and the Life of Amelia
Geddie, a little girl remarkable for early piety, made a deep impression
on her mind, which she for a while retained. From this time, she pray-
ed with fervour and feeling; and, as she then thought, with real answers
to her prayer in repeated instances, both of childish infirmity and desires.
A guitar, which she preserved to the day of her death, and which
sometimes amused her, though she was far from a proficient, was con-
nected with one of the instances she mentioned. Her mother, Lady
Buchan, was on a visit from home at Edinburgh, and was to bring her
something. Ann was waiting her return ; and one day praying, she
thought, What shall I ask to be brought me'! A guitar struck her
mind, though she had never learned, nor thought of it before ; and she
prayed that this might be brought her. Her mother, just coming through
the street, thought of Ann as she passed a music-shop, and preferring a
guitar to a toy, went in and bought it. “What have I got for you, Ann?”
said she. “A guitar.” Trifling as this may seem, it left an abiding im-
pression that there was a God who hears and answers prayer.
As she grew up, her early impressions wore off; and for some years,
she lived like too many of her rank and sex, in fashionable follies and in
the company of those who were strangers to themselves, little affected
about the eternal world into which they are going, and whose frivolity and
love of pleasure left no place for matters of more solemn consideration.
About this time, the Earl of Buchan, for his family convenience, removed
LADY ANN AGNES ERSKINE. 403
to Bath; and there commenced her acquaintance with the excellent
Lady Huntingdon, whose life was spent in endeavouring to do good, and
whose efforts were especially directed, at that time, to those of her own
rank and station. An acquaintance formed about this time with the
elder branches of the Hawkestone family, eminent for their excellence,
contributed to fix the sense of Divine truths on her mind; and she became
a professor of the principles of evangelical religion. A growing inti-
macy with Lady Huntingdon contributed to confirm her mind. Some
congeniality of spirit probably engaged Lady Huntingdon to invite Lady
Ann to remain with her as her friend and companion; and as this was
equally pleasing to both, for many years of the latter part of Lady Hun-
tingdon’s life, she was her constant friend and intimate. During these
years, as a helper in the truth, she walked with her aged friend in great
affection, making herself useful in assisting to discharge the burthen of
cares and engagements in which Lady Huntingdon was involved ; and
how well she approved herself, may be concluded from the disposition
which that good lady made of her affairs to such as she thought would
most faithfully pursue the line she had so successfully traced. At Lady
Huntingdon’s decease, Lady Ann Erskine, with several other persons,
were appointed trustees and executors of her will.
During Lady Huntingdon’s life, Lady Ann was only known as
zealously disposed to promote the cause of truth, without appearing in
any prominent character ; not being by providence favoured with the
liberal provision which her predecessor enjoyed, and which died with
her. Indeed, Lady Huntingdon's zeal always outran her income ; and
though no person ever spent so little on herself, she left such encum-
brances as her assets were unequal to discharge, unless some of her
chapels were disposed of. These encumbrances, her executors and
other friends immediately undertook to discharge, and to preserve the
chapels for the purposes to which they had been devoted. It was on
this occasion that Lady Ann Erskine was called forth to a more dis-
tinguished station than she had yet filled. When Lady Huntingdon’s
disposition of her property was known, the trustees agreed, that, as Lady
Ann was better acquainted with Lady Huntingdon’s mode of procedure
than any other, and readily offered to devote herself to any active service,
she should be desired to occupy part of Lady Huntingdom’s house in Spa-
Fields, and be in constant residence there, to carry on all the needful
correspondence, which was indeed immense; always advising with the
trustees, and rendering an account to them, when required, of her pro-
cedure. To her, with Dr. Ford and Mr. Best, therefore, it was agreed
that the administration should be intrusted.
Lady Ann now became the prominent person; and though all Lady
Huntingdon's income died with her, and Lady Ann possessed a mere
pittance, there appeared no lack of support to the cause. By wise and
prudent management, the places have not only been supported, but
many new chapels have been raised, and a considerable number of mi-
nisters in addition have been employed; most of whom have been sent
out from the college at Cheshunt, which is managed by trustees united
with the connexion of Lady Huntingdon. In every view, Lady Ann
was eminently qualified for her place, not only by an intimate know-
ledge of the manner in which her predecessor moved, but by a measure
of ability, hereditary in the family of Erskine, as well as a devotedness
404 MEMOIRS OF
of heart, that made it her pleasure to undergo any labour and difficulties
for the sake of the work in which she was engaged. Those who were
always consulted in emergencies, and knew the complicated nature of
the service, were witnesses how greatly she strove to please all for their
good to edification. But none but herself knew the many heart-aches,
and the need of patience she had in dealing with such a number of
persons as were managers of places, or employed in itinerating, when,
as in a complicated machine, some wheel or tooth being out of order,
rendered the uniform motion difficult to be preserved. To please every
body was hardly possible, in her situation : that some might be dissatis-
fied, to whose wishes she could not accord, and that others slighted her,
who were incompetent judges of her excellencies, is not to be wondered
at. That she was enabled to go on, with almost perfect satisfaction to
her colleagues, and without the slightest breach between them for
twelve years; all cordially concurring in one great object, and pursuing
it ardently, forms no mean proof of a Christian spirit; as will be allow-
ed by all who are acquainted with the difficulties to be encountered.
During these twelve years, when her most active life commenced,
she was indefatigably employed in the work of God. The marks in her
Bible speak the deep attention she paid to it. Her correspondence was
immense. Her room was hardly without visiters from morning to
night, giving account of commissions fulfilled, or taking directions where
to go, and what to do. It has been often said to her, by one of her
active colleagues, that her departure would leave a void, which there
was searcely a prospect of again filling with like activity and intelli-
gence. They indeed hoped it would be very distant; but her great
Master ordained otherwise.
Her conversation was always heavenly; and, when speaking of
God’s dealings with her own soul, none could express a deeper and
humbler sense of her own unworthiness and nothingness. The senti-
ment she uttered the last evening of her life was, that “the most
holy are the most humble in their own eyes.” She improved every
opportunity of converse with her friends, especially the young, that
visited her. Indeed, her whole time and thoughts seemed to be engag-
ed in endeavouring to fill up her place, conscious of being highly honour-
ed in the service, and feeling it her delight as well as duty, to dis-
charge her trust, as she must answer to the great Shepherd and Bishop
of souls. She never set up for a preacher; she knew her place; but
many a preacher will own how much his spirit hath been quickened by
her example and converse. She was placed in a situation of some con-
siderable authority; but her directions were counsels, and her orders
entreaties. The work of Lady Huntingdon's Establishment was never
better consolidated or more apparently prosperous, than the day she
left it ; and nothing will more powerfully speak for her than such a
testimony. -
Lady Ann had, for some time before her death, complaints which
alarmed those who knew how much they should feel her loss; and
though she struggled with ill health, and hardly suffered it to interrupt
her labours, yet, it was evident that the mortal tabernacle was failing.
Her constant calls to business precluded her from exercise; and the
stooping to write, and the sedentary life she led for weeks together, only
moving from her room to the chapel, increased the dropsical tendency
LADY ANN AGNES ERSKINE. 405
to which she had been for some time liable. The natural conformation
of a strait chest, rendered her respiration often laborious, and on any
quick motion asthmatical. Yet, her spirits so quickly rose, and her
conversation became so enlivened, that apprehensions went off; and
seeing it so frequently the case, led to hope that she might yet pro-
long her course. Those around her had often seen her apparently
worse, and more feeble, than on the days preceding her dissolution.
The frame of her mind, indeed, seemed in preparation for an eternal
world. Two or three mornings before her departure, she came much
refreshed from her room, and said to a friend, “The Lord hath met
me this morning with so much sweetness of mind, that I seemed as if
surrounded of God:” she added, with fervour, “My Lord and my
God P’ The day before her death, she took an airing in a coach, and
did not seem affected by it, but conversed as usual. The evening of
that day, she was visited by a gentleman of her acquaintance, and
spoke in her usually spirited manner, as if nothing ailed her ; and
her health being the subject, she said, “I have no presentiment of
death upon my mind;” but she added, “Be that as it may, God is
faithful; and I feel unshaken confidence in him;” with many other ex-
pressions of the hope that maketh not ashamed. About ten, she took
her usual supper, an egg; and soon after retiring to bed, took a com-
posing draught, (having had no good sleep for the two preceding nights,)
and prayed over it, that if the Lord had more work for her to do, he
would bless it to the promoting a good night’s sleep, and restoring her
strength. Speaking to her attendant, who slept in the room.with her,
she said, “How happy am I that my soul is not in hell, where I might
have been l’” On her going out of the room, Lady Ann added, as if
under some doubt or difficulty, “The Lord will reveal himself to me
to-morrow !” The person asked if any outward matters made her un-
easy " She replied, “No ; in those respects I am perfectly easy.” These
were the last words she was heard to utter. She apparently fell asleep.
About five o’clock, the attendant heard her cough slightly, and sup-
posed her to be again composed. At six she got up ; and going to
her bed-side, saw her mistress reposed, her head on her hand, and
thought her asleep : on a nearer approach, it was the sleep of death.
So finished the course of another faithful follower of the Lamb,
adding one more to the list of honourable and devout women whose
memory is deserving of being held in everlasting remembrance. She
lived to the age of sixty-five years; more than forty of which she had
spent in the works of faith and labours of love.
M R. S. TAL B O T.
THIs excellent lady was married to the Rev. Wm. Talbot, rector of
St. Giles's, Reading, Berks; a truly evangelical and exemplary clergy-
man, whom she survived eleven years. He was the immediate prede-
cessor of the celebrated Mr. Cadogan.
Mrs. Talbot was a pattern to women professing godliness, and one
that adorned the doctrine of God her Saviour in all things. As a real
helpmate to her worthy husband, she assisted him in the useful but
unfashionable employment of visiting the sick and needy, and catechiz-
ing the children ; and, so far from doing these kind offices with the
least degree of ostentation, humility shone forth in her whole deport-
ment. Ever encouraging her amiable partner to take up his cross, and
go forth without the camp, she rejoiced to share with him in that re-
proach which is the certain badge of the followers of the Lamb.
The Rev. Mr. Talbot was indeed an extraordinary man, both for
piety and generosity. His labours were extensively blessed : it is sup-
posed that, in the few years he preached at Reading, he had not less
than two hundred seals to his ministry. But so mysterious are the
ways of God, that in the prime of life, and in the midst of usefulness,
this faithful and successful minister was suddenly removed to glory.
He had not long left home to go to London on business, when tidings
were brought of his being ill of a putrid fever, which, it is supposed,
he had contracted before he left Reading, by attendance on a person
there, who lay ill of that contagious disorder. The distress of mind
which Mrs. Talbot endured on receiving the intelligence, was extreme;
but, at length, a sweet calm succeeded: with inexpressible composure,
she resigned her husband into the Lord’s hands, whether for life or
death; and from that moment there was not a single murmur. “Thy
will be done !” was the language of her whole heart. It was judged
most proper, by the faculty and his friends, that she should not see him,
lest his mind should be too much agitated by the interview. His illness
was of short duration ; and full of faith and hope, after a severe con-
flict with death and the enemy of souls, he died at the house of the
late Mr. Wilberforce. Mrs. Talbot received the tidings of his dissolu-
tion with such a perfect serenity of mind, as astonished the Earl of
Dartmouth, their particular friend, who kindly undertook to communi-
cate the sad intelligence to her. On his Lordship’s leaving her, having,
at her own request, remained alone for some time, she sent for the mis-
tress of the house, and desired her to sing a hymn, in which she joined;
when she seemed more like an angel rejoicing to receive this new inha-
bitant into heaven, than a destitute widow, who had lost her beloved
partner, and her all on earth. On her return to Reading, after the fune-
ral, she was immediately attended by her Christian friends, whom she
called her children. But, though they had met for the purpose of com-
forting her, they were themselves so overwhelmed with grief, that they
MRS. TALBOT. 407
could scarcely utter a word; whilst she, on the other hand, administer-
ed every consolation to them on the happy translation of their spiritual
father, pastor, and friend. She went the same day to the church, to see
where her beloved husband lay; and with all imaginable composure
gave directions about her own interment, whenever it should please God
to remove her. ... It deserves to be especially remarked, that, prior to this
period, Mrs. Talbot had been much oppressed with doubts and fears, and
often went mourning without the sun ; but, thenceforward, her faith
was vigorous, her joy abundant, and her spiritual experience rich and
refreshing.
The Lord now appeared in a wonderful manner for her, in a temporal
way also, to the astonishment of her friends. Hereby she was enabled
to assist the poor and needy, and send meat, from her own table, almost
daily, to the sick: at the same time, like a nursing mother to her late
husband's flock, she was as constantly speaking of Christ, like Anna of
old, to all them that came to her. For she felt it her duty not to remove
from the spot where her husband's labours had been so signally blessed;
but to strengthen and comfort the numerous young converts, who daily
came to her for instruction. Her house was open for religious exercises.
Mr. Romaine, Mr. Newton, and other ministers who visited her, ex-
pounded to the people; and prayer was continually offered up under her
roof, for the conversion of the new vicar, the Hon. and Rev. Mr. Cado-
gan, who, during some years, preached salvation by the deeds of the law,
and was a violent enemy to evangelical sentiments and experimental
religion. The old congregation were soon dispersed, as sheep without a
shepherd. Some, unwilling to leave the church, attempted to convince
him of his errors; but their conversation and letters, being sometimes too
sharp, made his spirit more acrimonious. Mrs. Talbot, however, incur-
red his deepest resentment. Offended with her conduct, he frequently
remonstrated; and various letters passed between them. To all his bit-
ter reproaches, she returned answers full of wisdom and kindness; for
she was not only pious and prudent, but sensible, polite, tender, and every
way fitted to treat a person in his circumstances. While Mrs. Talbot
conversed with Mr. Cadogan calmly on the nature of the Gospel, he saw
in her the power of it. While she enlarged on the doctrine of the cross,
he saw in her its healing and comforting efficacy on the heart and life.
She spake much of the True Wine, while he recognized the living branch
and its fruits; and beheld with irresistible conviction, in her character,
“the doctrine which is according to godliness.” Puzzled, therefore, as
this honest inquirer had been with the rough draught of Christianity,
he was charmed with the finished portrait. Her judicious treatment,
elegant manners, and bright example, formed both a contrast and an
antidote to the rudeness he had met with in others. And this should
teach us to set a due value upon every talent, natural or acquired, which
Divine grace employs; though we ourselves may happen not to possess
it, and though every talent, without that grace, must be employed in
vain. To the last moment of his life, he confessed, to the praise of God,
that Mrs. Talbot's letters, spirit, and example, were the principal means
of leading him to the saving knowledge of Christ. •
From the time of his conversion, Mr. Cadogan became her friend, com-
panion, minister, and one of the almoners of her bounty; for Mrs. Tal-
bot's charities were large ; and, considering her circumstances, surprising-
408 MEMOIRS OF
It ought not to escape remark, that she was just as well as generous,
scrupulously exact in her accounts and payments, -particularly careful
to owe no man any thing but love, and to pay this debt as punctually as
every other. She was affectionately attentive to her neighbours of all
ranks. To her servants, she was a mother, as well as a mistress; but
managed her kindnesses so as to produce by them the mostgrateful subjec-
tion, not indecent familiarity. To her relations she was strongly attach-
ed; she loved them with the love of Christ, and mentioned them daily
in her prayers.
Her house indeed seemed a Bethel. Such a heavenly calm sat on her
countenance, so spiritual was her conversation, so lowly in her own
eyes, so dead to the world, “ and so ripe for glory, that, as a noble friend
often expressed herself, she never saw Mrs. Talbot but she seemed
quite ready for her heavenly journey ; with every thing packed up, and
the carriage at the door, having nothing to do but to enter it, and take
her flight to glory. Thus daily waiting for her summons, she was not
surprised nor unready when it came. She knew in whom she believed :
Christ was her life; and, through his blood and righteousness, the sting
of death was taken out, and she happily obtained victory over the grave.
On the day she was seized with her last illness, being exhorted to
look to Jesus, she said: “This Jesus is all in all.” Her daily testimony
from this time to her death, was, that she had no other refuge, nor de-
sired any other, but Christ, whom she found an all-sufficient Saviour
for such a sinner as she knew herself to be. A very familiar and striking
expression, her minister observed, she often made use of “ That she
felt as though all behind her head were darkness and sorrow ; and all
before her face light and gladness.” On the Saturday night before her
death, she said: “No more Sabbaths to be enjoyed by me on earth;
but, oh that blessed Sabbath of rest above P’ She attempted to sing;
“Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on thee ſ”
and went on till her strength was exhausted. The next morning, she
began speaking of the precious views she had, the preceding night, of the
New Jerusalem; and added with a sweet smile, “Shall those gates of
pearl be opened to unworthy me? And shall I obtain that crown of
righteousness, laid up for all those that love the appearing of my dear
Lord!”. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, she usually expressed by name,
when she ascribed to Jehovah, her Covenant-God, the whole glory of
her salvation.
Not long before her death, she was asked by her minister, the Rev. Mr.
Cadogan, in the apostle's words, “Who shall separate us from the love
of Christ?” She answered, with uncommon rapture, “...Nothing, nothing,
nothing !—Jesus,” she added, “is my all.” “Oh sweet death i' washer
constant expression. In her parting blessing to two or three select friends,
she said, “God bless you all !” and to her faithful servants, whom she
loved as a mother, she added, “God bless you, my dear children l’ And
then, the last words she was heard to utter distinctly, were, Pray, pray,
pray! Her lips were still perceived to move, as though in prayer, and faint-
ly uttering the words “Shepherd and Guide l’ Death was now upon her
countenance, and in its loveliest form. It was impossible to refrain from
MRS. TALBOT. 409
looking at her: it was a sight calculated to confirm the hope of every
Christian. All who were present kneeled round her bed, while in broken
accents Mr. Cadogan committed her spirit into the hands of the Lord
God of truth. Surrounded by her weeping friends and servants, she fell
asleep without a groan, November 1785, about the sixtieth year of her
age. 3.
52
M. R. S. G. R A C E B E N N E T.
THIS lady was the daughter of Robert and Grace Norman, of Newcas-
tle-upon-Tyne : she was born there on the 23d day of January, 1715.
From the brief narrative which she left behind her, it appears, that
religious impressions were made upon her mind in very early life, and
that she had experienced convictions of sin even from four years of age;
particularly one that never left her, till it pleased God to take away the
sense of guilt from her conscience, which was not for many years after.
These had a powerful influence on her conduct, in leading her to read
the word of God with great diligence, though she did not properly un-
derstand it, and to feel a pleasure in attending on public worship both
parts of the Lord’s-day. Nor was she, even then, a stranger to some
sense of Divine love, which at times so filled her heart with unspeakable
pleasure in the house of God, that she said within herself, “Oh that
I might live here for ever !” One instance of this in particular occurred
when she was about seven years old, of which she frequently made men
tion in advanced life, as an early token of that special grace by which
she was afterwards called into the fellowship of Christ.
These pleasing impressions continued till she was sent to a dancing-
school, which proved a great snare to her, and in a considerable measure
destroyed her taste for religion. Having a fine flow of spirits, and being
esteemed a good dancer, she became an object of admiration, and her
company was much solicited in circles of gayety and amusement.
“Dancing,” she observes, “was my darling sin, and I had thereby
nearly lost my life; but God was merciful, and spared the sinner.” Her
sense of the danger and evil of this practice was such, that she could ne-
wer once be prevailed on, after she became truly religious, to join even in
the most private circle of such amusement; nor did she approve of Chris-
tian parents sending their children to dancing-schools, though no one
had a higher sense of the propriety of instructing them in all the rules
of good behaviour.
About the age of twenty-one, she changed her name to that of Grace
Murray, by which she was afterwards so well known among the people
called Methodists, being married to Mr. Alexander Murray, nearly rela-
ted to a considerable family of that name in Scotland; whose father,
being concerned in the rebellion of 1715, forfeited his estate, and with
several brothers was banished the kingdom. Mr. M. being thus disin-
herited, and not having been brought up to any secular business, turned
his attention to a seafaring life, in which he continued to the time of
his death.
For some time after her marriage with Mr. M., she continued in all the
vanities of the world; tenderly beloved by her husband, and distinguish-
ed in circles of mirth by the sprightliness of her air, and the enchanting
modulations of her voice, which was peculiarly sweet, and of great com-
pass. *
The providence of God, however, in a peculiar manner interposed, to
abate her love of worldly pleasures, and to awaken her to the pursuit of
*
--> *
MRS. GRACE BENNET. 411
*
more noble and satisfying delights; of which she gives the following
account :—“Mr. M. being taken ill at Portsmouth, sent for me. I
went, and took my child with me, which was about fourteen months old,
and stayed there about six weeks. We boarded at the house of a widow
lady, who had two daughters. Twice every day she passed by my
room, with her book under her arm, and her daughters with her, to re-
tire into her chamber to prayers. This struck me in such a manner,
that I wished to do as she did. Oh the goodness of God . It astonishes
me even now to think of it, how I must be brought hither to be taught
to pray ! Yes, I believe I began to pray in the Spirit in that house. The
Lord had fastened something on my mind there, which I could never
shake off.” e
Under this impression, she returned with Mr. Murray to London; and
thus was her mind gradually disposed to be favourably wrought upon
by succeeding events, which, through the influence of the Divine Spirit,
issued in her effectual conversion. These things, with many other cir-
cumstances of her first religious connexions, we shall relate in her own
words, which contain a brief sketch of the rise and early progress of the
Methodist societies in various parts of the kingdom.
“When we returned to London, all places rang with the fame of Mr.
Whitfield, who had introduced the practice of field preaching. I said,
*Poor gentleman he is out of his mind l’ So foolish was I, and ignorant.
But he continued to blow the Gospel trumpet all round London, &c. I
found a strong desire to hear him ; but my husband would not give his
consent. It was not long, however before Mr. M. was called away to
his occupation; and just after his departure, my child sickened, and
God was pleased to take her unto himself. When the child was dying,
I was constrained to kneel down ; and having a book with a prayer in it
for a departing soul, I read this, and gave up my child into the hands of
God. This amazed my sister, who had never seen it thus with me before.
After the child was interred, I was brought into such lowness of spirits
that I could rest in no place. I lost my relish for all worldly pleasures ;
and, though I was taken from place to place to divert me, it was to no
purpose. I wanted—but I knew not what. Once, at my sister's, looking
upward, I thought the firmament was all in a smoke ; upon which, I
went in greatly terrified, and said to my sister, ‘I do not know what is
the matter with me, but I think it is my soul.” She replied, ‘Your soul,
child; you are good enough for yourself and me too.” Poor creature,
she was as ignorant as myself But I could rest in no place : the Lord
had made the wound, and no earthly balm could cure it. O that I could
sufficiently praise him for his great mercy to me a poor sinner ſ” º
“Mr. Whitfield was gone down the river Thames for Georgia; but an
embargo was laid on all ships outward bound, for some time, we being
then at war with Spain; therefore he returned from Gravesend to London.
A young person in our neighbourhood having heard of my distress, sent
me word she was going to Blackheath to hear Mr. Whitfield, and would
be glad of my company. Accordingly I went with her, and before we
reached the place, we heard the people singing hymns. The very sound
set all my passions afloat, though I did not know one word they uttered;
which plainly shows how the affections may be greatly moved, while
the understanding is quite dark. At the time appointed, Mr. Whitfield
came, and young Mr. Delamotte in a chaise with him. When he stood
412 MEMOIRS OF
up, I was struck with his appearance; I thought there was something
in his face I never saw in any human face before. His text was, our
Lord’s address to Nicodemus, in John iii. 3, ‘Verily, verily, I say unto
thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.
He enlarged on the new birth; but I understood him not, and wondered
what it was to be born again. So long as the embargo continued, I went
to hear him ; and when he was gone, I was worse than ever, though I
do not think my understanding was at all enlightened. My distress
grew very heavy, nor had I one that I could open my mind unto : I was
bound in misery and iron.”
“One day, however, as I was reading in the fifth chapter of the Epis-
tle to the Romans, I was filled with light and love. I saw my lost estate
in Adam, and my recovery by Christ Jesus. My soul was overpowered,
and I cried out to those that were with me, “If all the devils in hell were
dancing round me, I fear them not.’ I was as sensible, when the guilt
of sin was removed from my conscience, as a man pressed under a load
is sensible when it is taken off his shoulders. Now, therefore, God hav-
ing set my soul at liberty, he opened my lips to praise him; and all that
flow of spirits which I had felt in the vanities of the world, was directed
towards God. I began to reprove sin in all around me ; nor durst I suf-
fer it upon my brother in any wise.
“About four months after this, as I was walking in my own room,
one morning, in the same place where God was pleased to remove the
burden of my guilt, I felt as if some powerful hand had pulled me down
upon my knees to prayer; and whether I was in the body, or out of the
body, I know not, but I saw what no human tongue can express, neither
durst I utter, concerning the glory of the Divine Persons in the Godhead.
I was also made sensible, that God the Father accepted me in his Son, .
as if I had not committed one sin, and that the righteousness of the Lord
Jesus Christ was imputed to me for my justification, with all that he had
purchased by his life and death; and at the same time, those words
were applied to my soul with the greatest power, “Peace I leave with
thee; my peace I give unto thee; not as the world giveth, give I unto
thee,” John, xiv. 27. Now, also, the Lord sent the Spirit of adoption into
my heart, crying Abba, Father; the Spirit himself bore witness with my
spirit, that I was a child of God. I rejoiced with joy unspeakable and
full of glory.—The sense of this Divine manifestation, the enemy could
never tear away from me, in all my violent temptations afterwards: even
when I was almost driven to despair, this would come and come again
to my mind, God cannot change.
“Now all my former companions forsook me, and said they could not
bear my melancholy conversation, as they called it; yea, my own
sister told me, ‘ Once she delighted to see me in company, but now
she hated to see me there, I looked so much like a fool.” Blessed be my
God, this was my glory, to be counted a fool for my dear Lord’s sake l
The world, indeed, seemed under my feet, and my conversation was
truly in heaven.
“About this time, Mr. Murray returned from his voyage. My sister
told him I was gone melancholy through hearing the Methodists, at
which he smiled; but when he found that I would not be a party in
such pleasures as I used to delight in, he said I was gone mad, and
swore that the Methodists had destroyed all his happiness in this world.
©
MRS. GRACE BENNETT. 413
He would not let me go to any preaching, nor suffer any Methodists to
come near me. This was my cross indeed". At length, finding that he
could by no means prevail with me to accompany him to scenes of
pleasure and vain delight, he said with a deep sigh, “I see no way to
recover you, but putting you into a madhouse; which my sister encou-
raged him to do. I answered him, ‘ I am in my perfect senses, but you
may do with my body as God pleaseth to suffer you; I will however
serve the Lord in his own way.” He said, ‘You may go to church, and
serve God as much as you please.” To this I said but little, thinking
it then most prudent. He said again, ‘You shall forsake these Metho-
dists, or I will put you into a madhouse.” I answered, ‘ I believe them
to be the people of God; therefore, if I deny them, I should deny the
Lord who bought me with his blood; than which I would rather die: and
put me into whatever place you please, the Lord will go with me.” On
this he rose up, and said, ‘I will go to Mrs. , and bespeak a place
for you.’—I had now no other resource, but to pour out my sorrows before
God, and to entreat him, that he would either prevent this, or over-
rule it for his glory. Mr. M. had not been gone long, (for I was yet
wrestling with God,) before he came up stairs and said, ‘I cannot do it.”
In a little time after this, I was taken dangerously ill, which greatly
distressed him ; and when he thought I should die, he said, ‘My dear,
will you have any body sent for 7 you shall have whom you please.”
But when any of the Methodists came, he went out. It pleased God,
however, to restore me in a little time, and my husband gave me leave
to go to the preachings; which was health to my bones. Soon after-
wards he went another voyage ; and, in the course of fourteen months,
died at sea.” *
It is not uncommon for those who at one time have been highly in-
dulged with sensible comforts, at other seasons to pass through peculiar
scenes of temptation and spiritual exercise; especially if designed for
distinguished usefulness in the church. This was the case with the
subject of these memoirs. Her conflicts with Satan, and the distress of
soul she sometimes suffered, through the pressure of temptations pecu-
liarly discouraging, considerably surpassed what many eminent Chris-
tains are acquainted with. The grand adversary of souls sifted her
by every stratagem, and sometimes, with all the fury of a roaring lion,
threatened to devour her. What she alludes to in the preceding ac-
count, as her great trial, was a scene of deep spiritual conflict, almost
bordering on despair ; into which she was brought by indulging high-
wrought speculative inquiries, and following a train of skeptical sug-
gestions, till her mind was enveloped in darkness, and deprived of all
sensible comfort. This she considered, in more advanced life, as having
been permitted of God, to correct the bad effect of those undue caresses
she met with among her religious friends; to humble her, and to make
her know what was in her heart ; as well as to teach her how to sym-
pathize with and -comfort the souls of the distressed, for which, by
painful experience, she was eminently qualified. “I was got,” she
says, “to such a pass, that no preaching did me any good; so wise,
that I thought I knew all before the preacher spoke. Oh, this was a
dreadful state | I tremble to think of it, even at this distance of forty
years! I began to reason about many things, till I lost my sensible com-
fort, and was soon assaulted by temptations of various kinds. The
414 MEMOIRS OF
Holy Spirit was grieved, and I walked under great heaviness. My
state of mind daily grew worse and worse, that I was even filled with
horrible thoughts, and ready to disbelieve every thing in the Scriptures;
yea, had not the Lord secretly upheld me, I had been swallowed up
even of atheism itself: for, as I was one day walking in a field behind
the town-walls, it came to me like lightning, ‘There is no God.” I was
as if thunder-struck ; when, lifting up my eyes to heaven, I cried out,
“Satan, thou art a liar ! I know there is a God I have felt his power,
I have tasted of his love l’ And again I said, ‘Who made these hea-
vens, and stretched them out like a curtain'ſ or who laid the foundations
of the earth P Immediately it came to me, “All by nature.’ I went
into one of the towers in the town-wall to have prayed, but the heavens
seemed as brass. I came out, and having to pass over a high stone
stile with a flight of steps, was tempted to throw myself down from the
top. How I got off, I hardly know ; but, in a moment, I was as if
covered with a black veil ; on which I cried out, “If there be a God,
save me !” Then the Lord appeared for my deliverance, and Satan
fled. By degrees, I was reduced almost to a skeleton, through the
weight of grief that oppressed my soul; yet, blessed be God, he did
not leave me utterly to despair, but something of a secret hope bore me
up, that in due time he would deliver.”
Mrs. Murray, having been several years a widow, was again married,
October 3, 1749, to Mr. John Bennet, of Chinley, near Chapel-en-le-
frith, Derbyshire. At that time, Mr. Bennét was a preacher in Mr.
Wesley’s connexion, and superintended a very extensive circuit, though
part of Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cheshire, and Derbyshire; in which,) as
appears from a letter of his to Mr. Wesley, dated March 6, 1750,) he
rode nearly 200 miles every fortnight. In this circuit he continued to
labour with unwearied diligence for some years afterwards, his wife)
now Mrs. Grace Bennet) generally accompanying him, so long as
domestic convenience would admit; whose prayers and counsels, among
the women of the several societies, were eminently useful. Some di-
versities of religious opinion, however, springing up between him and
Mr. Wesley, particularly respecting the righteousness of Christ being
imputed to believers, as the only ground of their justification before God,
which Mr. Bennet openly avowed, they publicly separated, at Bolton,
in Lancashire, April 3, 1752.
This was a heavy affliction to Mrs. Bennet, who esteemed Mr.
Wesley ; though she thought his conduct, on that occasion, highly
reprehensible. She was then also a warm stickler for the doctrines of
Universal Redemption, Free-Will, &c. which were topics of sharp con-
troversy, at that time, between Mr. Wesley and Mr. Whitfield. But, in
a little while, she saw reason to embrace what is commonly called the
Calvinistic view of Gospel doctrines, in which she acquired a very clear
and distinguishing judgment, and was more and more established to the
last; though she never afterwards was fond of religious controversy,
and advised all her Christian friends against it.
. The cares of a growing family now so occupied her time and atten-
tion, that she could but seldom accompany her husband in his circuit
round the societies. This, therefore, among other considerations, in-
duced him to think of connecting himself more closely with a particular
congregation, as their stated minister; that he might more comfortably
MRS. GRACE BENNET. 415
attend to his family as well as his flock. Accordingly, in 1754, a meet-
ing-house being erected for him at Warburton in Cheshire, the society
assembling there was regularly organized, on the plan of an independ-
ent church; and he, by prayer and fasting, was solemnly set apart
to the pastoral office among them. Here he continued his ministerial
labours on the Lord’s-day, (generally preaching four or five times a
week besides, in places at some distance,) till the year 1759; when
he was seized with the jaundice, occasioned through his over exertions,
and a great loss of blood from a wound that he accidentally receiv-
ed in his leg. Of this he died, on Thursday the 24th day of May, after
lying ill thirty-six weeks. The following is Mrs. Bennet's account of
this interesting scene:
“I have seen many saints take their leave of this world, but none
like J. B. May my last end be like his As I was sitting on his bedside,
he said, “My dear, I am dying.” This was about eleven o’clock, and
he conversed with me till two. I said, ‘Thou art not afraid of dying P
He answered cheerfully, ‘No my dear; for I am assured, past a doubt,
or even a scruple, that I shall be with the Lord, to behold his glory;
the blood of Jesus Christ hath cleansed me from all sin. I long to be
dissolved. Come, Lord Jesus, loose me from the prison of this clay !
Oh Sweet, sweet dying ! I could die ten thousand times | Too sweet,
my dear, too sweet ! I said, ‘Canst thou now stake thy soul on the
doctrine thou hast preached 'P He answered, ‘Yes, ten thousand souls |
It is the everlasting truth; stick by it.” Then he prayed for his wife
and children, for his father, sister, and her children, and for the Church
of Christ; after which he said: “I long to be gone. I am full : my
cup runneth over. Sing, sing, yea, shout for joy P. We then kissed
each other, and he fell asleep in the arms of Jesus, with the words,
‘Sing, sing !’—He was lamented both by rich and poor. He was an
upright man, and without guile; a lover of all good men. He feared
no man, neither would he suffer sin upon his brother. We have sung
the praises of God together in our journey below, and we shall sing
them together to all eternity.”
From this period, Mrs. Bennet sustained the character of a “widow
indeed.” Left with five sons, the oldest not eight years of age, far re-
rmoved from all her own relations, and exercised with many trials, the
circumstances of which were too much interwoven with family connex-
ions and affairs to be publicly enumerated; she not only cheerfully en-
countered many temporal difficulties in the education of her children;
but also by her example, her counsels, her prayers, her pleasing converse,
and her prudent care, trained them up in the nurture and admonition of
the Lord. Reading the word of God, singing his praises, and calling
on his name with her family, morning and evening, were daily practised
in her house ; arºd these things were always done with such reverence,
spirituality, and fervour, as could not help convincing every one that wit-
nessed them, how deeply her heart was engaged in them. She was
never tedious in the length of religious services, to render them a burden ;
and through all she introduced that agreeable variety, which made them
entertaining, as well as impressive. Few Christians possessed so emi-
nently the spirit and gift of prayer. In her chamber she daily spent a con-
siderable time in secret converse with God: the throne of grace was truly
her asylum, whither she fled in all circumstances of trouble and perplexity.
416 MEMOIRS OF
“The cares of such a family, which she attended with most watchful
solicitude, doing almost every thing for them with her own hands, would,
* with some, have engrossed every inch of time, and afforded no leisure
for mental improvement; but, by her habit of early rising, and observ-
ing the strictest order in the arrangement of domestic concerns, she was
enabled to cultivate her taste for reading to a very considerable extent ;
and this, not only among strictly devotional writings, but in general his-
tory, and the works of our best English poets. Such employment was
to her a pleasing substitute for the chit-chat of visiting, which often mur-
ders time, and leaves the mind empty and dissipated.
The Rev. Mr. Bennet having been accustomed frequently to preach
in his own house to such of the neighbours as attended, his widow en-
deavoured to provide for the continuance of their instruction, by inviting
Gospel ministers at a distance, to come and preach in rotation at her
house, where they always received a kind and respectful entertainment.
She had also weekly meetings for prayer and religious conversation,
both of a general and a more select nature which proved a great blessing
to the souls of many.
In visiting the sick throughout her neighbourhood, her aptness and
usefulness were eminently discovered. The inhabitants in general look-
ed up to her, on such occasions, with peculiar veneration and confidence,
as a mother in Israel, who knew how to speak a word in season; and
even such as in health were carnal and profane, would hearken to her
advice, and request her prayers, in their time of illness, with great hu-
mility and earnestness. She was always ready to fall in with such calls
of Providence; and there were several instances of persons, who, by
her instrumentality, were truly awakened, and brought to the knowledge
of the truth, and died full of peace and good hope towards God.
Having had the satisfaction to see those of her children who were
spared, introduced into life, and now becoming, through advance of years,
less capable of attending religious means at any distance, she was pre-
Vailed upon, by great importunity, to quither sequestered vale, and settle
in the town of Chapel-en-le-frith. *
In the year 1792 begins her Diary, or daily memorandum of what
º in her own mind, which she continued till the year 1800; when
er eye-sight so failed, that she was utterly incapable of directing her
pen. We shall select some passages, which may be of general utility,
and endeavour to present them in such orderly succession, as may con-
vey some correct idea of what was her habitual exercise and frame of
mind unto the last.
“January 1, 1792. Miss — came to spend the last day of the old
year with me. Oh, what waste of time is chit-chat 1:1, was condemned
in myself, that we parted without prayer. All visits to me are empty
and dry, if the precious name of Jesus is not the topic of our conversa-
tion.
“That is the name that charms my fears,
And bids my sorrows cease.”
“When I see my interest clear in the covenant of his blood, ſº I
bless God, I do many times,) I fear neither death nor hell, nor all the
powers thereof; yet, at times, I find such a depth of unbelief in
MRs. GRACE BENNET. 417
me, that sinks me low as the grave. But I have no way, at such sea-
sons, but to lay my soul at the feet of Jesus, and wait for his return.
The ship cannot sink; for, though the Master seem to be asleep, he will '
awake and rebuke the storm.
“The last night was a night of darkness, but joy returned in the morn-
ing. The portion of Scripture for our morning service, was so suited to
my state in the night, that the word was as marrow and fatness to my
soul. These words were applied to my mind, ‘I have loved thee with
an everlasting love, therefore with loving-kindness have I drawn thee.”
Oh, how do I grieve for some that seemed to bid fair for heaven | What
has bewitched them 'ſ O delusive world, thou real cheat what canst
thou give but hell and destruction | Help me, Lord, to begin this new
year with thee! O my God, fulfil all thy pleasure in and by me, the
most unworthy of all thy servants Yet I would love thee, thou
knowest : I can appeal unto thee, I would rather die than sin against
thee.
“Feb. 1. Oh for more of that wisdom which cometh from above,
that I may be directed in the right way ! for I am very ignorant. This
day, I was desired to pray with some persons that came to visit me;
but I neither found life nor liberty. Words are not prayer. O thou
blessed Son of God, make me free, and I shall be free indeed ' What
a pity it is, that when we meet together, we can talk of any thing but
the one thing needful Oh for more zeal according to knowledge O
my dull heart, why art thou so backward / I have seen the day when
I would have reproved sin in his Majesty, without being afraid; and
why not now 7
“March 4. This morning has been a good one ; the Lord has been -
with us in family worship, and comforted my soul greatly. O Lord,
quicken me to run the way of thy commandments How doth my soul
mourn for some that did begin well, but now seem to be swallowed up
of the world ! I hope I have delivered my own soul, yet, I will weep
for them in secret places. I pray God imbitter every sinful sweet, and
hedge up their way with thorns, rather than they should run into de-
struction It is not beginning well, but finishing ! ‘Be thou faithful
unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life,” saith Christ; ‘but, if
any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him.”
“April 14. I mourn—but, blessed be God, it is not for the world; I
have all that it can give me. I want to be more closely united to my
dearest Lord; I want my whole heart devoted to him.
“What hast thou done my heart to gain?
Languish'd, and groan'd, and died.
“I would love much, having had much forgiven. O my God, I
would weep in tears of blood, if it would avail for my unfaithfulness.
But my tears themselves want washing; how then can they avail 7. In
this view I detest them. The blood of Jesus alone can cleanse my sin;
in that is all my hope.
“I know no sacrifice beside;
Lord. I’m condemn'd, but thou hast died.”
“Oh the depth of unbelief I What a wicked deceitful heart is mine !
53
418 MEMOIRS OF
How long shall I dispute and reason with Satan against my own peace"
I have the veracity of Jehovah to rest upon for my salvation; yea, he
hath spoken to my soul, as with an audible voice, ‘ I am thy salvation.”
Oh the loving-kindness and patience of our God! to bear with me, such
a sinner . But my Advocate pleads my cause above ; for me he in-
tercedes. Then, my soul, arise and tread the tempter down. May I
never doubt more, but believe, and rejoice in hope of his salvation
“May 14. This morning the Lord hath taken to himself my dear
friend C. O., who departed rejoicing in Christ Jesus. She was a mo-
ther in Israel, a lover of God and his people : she died beloved of all
that knew her, and she was worthy. I took my leave of her the night
before she died, believing we should meet again at the right hand of
God: how soon, God knoweth. O Lord, make me ready | Then, no
matter how soon. May I live every day as my last ! I would have
death in view every moment, that, when the king of terrors approacheth,
he may not be formidable. What is death, but the door into eternity ?
My dear Saviour has entered, and taken possession for me, and has told
i. that where he is, there I shall be also, to behold his glory. Halle-
ujah de
“August 26. What is man in his fallen state, but half brute, half
devil'ſ The unregenerate heart is a cage of unclean birds; all manner
of abominations dwell there. It is one thing, however, to say thus, and
another to feel it so. It is one thing to say, I am a sinner, and another
to feel myself under the wrath and curse of God for my sins. Many
will complain of themselves, and say, “O I am very sinful, my heart is
wicked,’ &c. but still they go on in sin, and rest content. I am persuad-
ed, if they felt what they say, they could not stop there, till God aveng-
ed them of their enemies. And who are these! Principally, the sin of
unbelief; whence spring pride, and selfishness, and anger, &c. These
my soul has groaned under ; yet, I bless God, they do not lead me cap-
tive: no, I hate them with a perfect hatred. If these reign, we can
have no peace with God; “for his servants we are to whom we obey,
whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness.” God is
of purer eyes, than to look upon sin with the least allowance or approba-
tion ; and, “without holiness no man shall see the Lord.” Then how,
my soul, wilt thou stand before him 'ſ Not in any holiness which is
wrought in thee, even by the influences of the Divine Spirit, but in that
perfect righteousness which the Son of God wrought out by his life and
death ; this alone can give thee a title to eternal life. Nevertheless,
what God is pleased to work in me by his blessed Spirit, (and I pray God
fill my whole soul more and more with himself) is to qualify me for
heaven; else I could not associate and converse with the glorious hosts
above ; for no unclean thing shall enter the New Jerusalem.
“November 30. It is good to wait upon God. The face of Moses
shone, when he came down from the mount, after he had been convers-
ing with the Lord of hosts. And is it not true of every Christian, when
he has been conversing with God in meditation and prayer, (if the inter-
course has been open between God and his soul,) that he afterwards
shines in humility, meekness love, and spiritual-mindedness This mo-
ment I feel a little what this means. I am astonished to think that the
Almighty should stoop to hear such a sinner as me ! Oh, that I could
extol him | Lord, increase my capacity of loving and serving thee
MRS. GRACE BENNET. 419
“December 25. Having caught cold, and not regarding it, I was seized
with a dangerous disorder, which brought me almost to the grave; but,
for some reason, (unknown to myself, yet well understood by Him that
worketh all things after the counsel of his own will;) I was countermand-
ed when I thought myself in sight of my port, with my sails spread, and
filled with the gales of the Divine Spirit. How have I seen, when I have
been upon the ocean, a ship with all her sails unfurled, and right before
the wind, the mariners rejoicing, and myself with them, thinking we
were so near our desired haven; when suddenly a cross wind has sprung
up, and blown us quite away to another port, and that for several days
So am I. Lord help me to improve the time, because the days are evil!
The Lord’s hand is stretched out, as if he was shaking all nations. In-
deed, to me it seems plain, that he is hastening his coming. The signs
appear. O Lord, help me to watch, that I may have my loins girt, my
lamp trimmed, and my light shining ; that I may meet my Lord with
joy Amen.
“June 24, 1793. I came to live at —. O Lord, dwell thou
with me, and make my house a house of prayer | Thou knowest my
mind has been all hurry for some time : yet, blessed be thy name, thou
hast been with me. Surely thou art good to Israel. The Lord has gi-
ven me a daughter-in-law, one of a thousand. O Lord, be thou unto
her as the dew unto Israel. Give unto her, and my dear child, the
friend of her bosom, much grace, and more grace ; that they may be
wholly devoted to God, with all they have and are. I hope this is their
desire : I have cause to believe it. Oh, may I yet see the fruits of grace
abound in them . They are good and kind to me : how shall I praise
my God, who is the moving cause of all !—This world is full of noise
and calamity, occasioned by sin. Save, Lord, or I perish ' I have need
of power to watch and pray, for I find enemies without and within, and
my own heart the worst of all; but God is greater than my heart, and
on him I rely. But oh this unbelief, that damning sin ' I feel it deeply
rooted in my nature. But Jesus says, “I have prayed for thee, that
thou fail not.”—I cannot say, that I find those transports of joy, which
I have experienced in times past; but, I bless God, I find a solid hope,
that enables me to rest my all upon the atonement made by the Lamb :
there will I trust my soul ; yea, ten thousand souls if I had them.
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath made
me sensible, that neither I, nor any one else, can call Jesus Lord, but by
the Holy Ghost.
“I rest upon thy word;
The promise is for me:
My succour and salvation, Lord,
Shall surely come from thee.”
Sept. 1. Backbiters and tale-bearers are Satan's agents; they would
set a whole country by the ears; such I would not have enter my house.
When I say, ‘I would not hear them,” the answer is, “We cannot stop
our ears.’ Well, but I would stop their mouths, by saying, I will hear
no evil-speaking. Indeed, this is a sin we should flee from, as from the
face of a serpent. I can truly say, I have been pained to my heart,
by hearing evil-speaking. I have condemned myself as a sinner, for
not reproving it. We have rules laid down in Scripture for the whole
deportment of our lives; and by these we ought to walk. ‘Be swift
420 MEMOIRS OF
to hear, and slow to speak,’ is a good watch-word in all companies. I
have been blamed for speaking too little in company; but I would
rather err on that hand, than by speaking too much ; speaking to pro-
fit is all. If we had a sense of the Divine presence, we should be more
cautious both of what we speak and do. The glory of God should be
uppermost in all. But do we not too often speak to please ourselves?
Ah, pride and self are deeply rooted in me ; I feel them moving in every
point. O wretched creature, what am I sunk into by the fall ! Into the
nature both of beast and devil. It is a blessing to know this; but a
greater blessing to knowethat I am redeemed out of that horrible state,
by the dear Son of God becoming surety for me. He took upon him
human nature, to die the death for me ! Here I am lost.
“Oct. 8. This was a heavy day to me. I dare not connive at sin,
for it will find us out, be it ever so secret. Indeed, I own before God my
weakness, that I am of a sharp spirit, and my manner of reproof may
seem to some persons to be wrong; but I can appeal to God, my aim is
his glory, and their good to whom I speak. I dare not but do it in any
wise. I leave the event to God, to whom I must give an account. His
word says, “Thou shalt not suffer sin upon thy brother, but shalt reprove
him in any wise:’ this is my warrant. Some, I fear, are content to get
so much religion as will save them from the fear of hell ; but in this,
they are wofully deceiving themselves; for true religion not only saves
from the fear of hell, but it makes truly happy, and works a crucifixion
in us to this vain world, with all its delusive joys. Where God has ta-
ken possession of the heart, he takes away the love of all those things
that once led us captive, and gives us power to lead them captive. All
the love that such persons regarded other things with before, is turned
to the love of God; and it is their grief, that they cannot love him
more and serve him better: I am sure it is mine ; and I believe true grace
has the same effect in all. Oh, it is a sad and bitter thing, to lose the
power of grace in the heart; it is not so easy to recover it; it costs many
a deep groan and piercing sigh, if ever we come to enjoy that happiness
we had in our first love. I am speaking from dear-bought experience.
Therefore, we ought to shun the very appearance of evil. Many things
may appear to us innocent, and in themselves may be so, but the man-
ner of using them is all. We do not consider what the end will be, till
we find the bite of the serpent.
“January 22. Last night my little company met. My heart was
enlarged as I endeavoured to show them in what manner I believed
Christ to be the sinner's hope for salvation, and how we are accepted in
him; that it is not for any thing wrought in us by the Divine Spirit, nor
for all the works we have done or can do, but for the righteousness of
Christ alone imputed to us, without anything in or of ourselves. Doubt-
less, what the blessed Spirit worketh in us, is a qualification or meetness
of heaven, but it is not this which gives us our title to it. God looks upon
the believer in Jesus as if he had not committed sin; but, out of Christ, if
a soul were enriched with all grace, God would be to that soul a consum-
ing fire. Our completeness is in Christ Jesus alone. Lfear some build
upon their comforts, instead of Christ, for their salvation. Do not, how-
ever, mistake me, and think I am speaking against comforts: far from
it. I delight to feel the comforts of the Holy Ghost; yea, there is no
true religion without them, less or more ; and perhaps I, the least of all
MRS. GRACE BENNET. 421
the family of heaven, not worthy to be called a child of God, have tast-
ed, and could say, as much as most of those sweets of Paradise. But
I forbear: Christ is all and in All to me.
“Feb. 19. They say the French are for invading us. Whither shall
we flee " There is only one place of safety: the name of our God is a
strong tower, into which the righteous run, and are safe.
“There would I fly with eager haste,
And kiss the cross, and hold it fast.”
Let us not distress ourselves before the time. . Remember the prophet’s
servant. His master prayed, and God opened his eyes, and then he
beheld the mountain full of horses and chariots round about. Is not Eli-
sha's God the same to-day 4 Yes, and will be for ever, when heaven and
earth are fled away. O Lord, give me that victorious faith that removes
every mountain and obstacle in my way to Sion . It is not in the power
of men to do what they would ; then I desire to stand still and see thy
salvation. sº
“September 26. It is easy to talk of death at a distance; but it is
awful to look him in the face, without an advocate. O dreadful 1
But, to believe and know that Jesus lives for me, to plead my cause before
his Father’s throne, disarms him of all his terrors. In my late illness,
the Lord kept the enemy at a distance, that I felt no fear of death : I
neither desired life nor death, but that the will of God should be done in
me. I had my answer, as in times past, that I should not die now.
What I am spared for, is best known to Him who ‘can divide the seas,
and make the mountains fall.”
“This awful God is mine,
My Father and my love;
He will send down his heavenly powers
To carry me above.
“November 12. I fear, great troubles are hastening : I almost see
them at the door. When I consider what God has done for this nation
in times past, and what returns we have made him, my mouth is stopped.
I dare not pray as I would. I well remember, in the year 1745, being
then at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, before the least appearance of disturb-
ance in Scotland, my soul mourned day and night ; I was always in
trouble, but could not tell for what. Mr. Charles Wesley was there
for some time. When he preached his farewell sermon, he said, ‘If
I am a messenger of God to preach the Gospel unto you, mark what I
say, before you see my face again, you will have the man on the red horse,
and the man on the pale horse.” When he spoke these words, the whole
auditory trembled. I myself was there, and felt the mighty power of
God. And it was not long ere we experienced the truth of his message:
we had both war and death in abundance.
“January 20, 1796. It was our prayer-meeting this morning. The
maid begged I would not get up, being so poorly; but I durst not make
it an excuse. I rose, weak as I was ; and I would not for the world have
Iain in my bed. My soul was doubly blessed. The Lord was with us
in truth, and, I believe, not one soul went away empty. How should I
have regretted, and my heart have smote me, if I had lain in bed, when
I consider how my dear Lord stayed whole nights on the mount, exposed
422 MEMOIRS OF
to the open air, praying for such a hell-deserving sinner. Oh, I hate ex-
cuses, both in myself and others | We shall repent, when we arrive at
home, and be confounded, to think how sluggish and lukewarm we
were here in his service. If there can be mourning in heaven, I shall
lament my unfaithfulness and short-comings to eternity. ºr
“June 4. In the evening, when I was retired, the enemy came upon
me with fury, and said, “All your praying and doing is in vain; how
do you know but you have been deceiving yourself all these years ſº I
answered with great indignation, “Satan, thou art a liar. I know that
my Redeemer liveth, and will appear to my salvation, and to thy de-
struction; thou knowest it; therefore leave off to tempt me. Thou
knowest, Jesus ever lives above, at his Father’s right hand, and pleads
his precious blood for me. I know that I am his, and shall be with
him, to behold his glory. My soul disdains to fear; for the Lord Je-
hovah is my righteousness and strength.” Upon this Satan fled: he
cannot stand the blood of Christ.
“ September 19. In reading Flavel on Providence, what scenes
were opened to me in my own life I can truly say, to the glory of God,
goodness and mercy have followed me all my days, even from my in-
fancy. What dangers have I escaped both by sea and land 1% What
narrow turns for life and what sins has the Lord by his providence
preserved me from 1 Stand astonished, O my soul, at the loving-kind-
ness of the Lord! His arm unseen prevented and saved a poor helpless
sinner from ruin’s brink,
“When thro' the flowery paths of youth
With heedless steps Iran.”
“December 6. Several days past I have found the state of my mind
very uneven, up hill and down. . Unbelief is the torment of my soul.
When I feel myself a little comforted, then I long to be gone, that I
might sin no more, to grieve my Lord by carnal reasoning. Oh that I
could simply believe what the Lord has said unto me ! But I am so
afraid of being deceived at last, which makes me unhappy; and as
soon as my comfort is gone, Satan returns upon me with double fury.
How long shall I grieve God, by making him as changeable as myself I
Wretch that I am, it is a wonder God doth not cut me off and cast
* The following interposition of Providence is worthy to be recorded. “Having been on
a visit at Newcastle for my health,” she observes, “as I always went and returne by sea, F
took leave of my relatives, and went in a boat for Shields, to engage a place in one of thé
vessels to London. When I came thither, I met with a neighbour going also to London
who told me, she had agreed to go with Captain F., and wished me to accompany her; but,
upon hearing his name, I felt immediately such an aversion, that I said I would not go with
him, though I did not know his person, neither could give any reason. I told my friend, that
as she had agreed to go with him, she ought to go; but she replied, ‘I will not lose your
company; so we both went with Captain B., of Whitby. , We set sail on Good Friday in
the morning, about forty ships in company; but we had but just got over the bar into the
sea, when a storm arose and scattered us widely from each other. The storm began about
seven o'clock in the morning, and we were init till nine at night. Two men were continually
at the pumps, and two at the helm. It pleased God we got into the Humber, where we lay
five days before we sailed again. Before we got in here, Captain B. came and asked us all
how we did? and then . ‘It is a mercy we are here: I fear we shall have a sad account
when we reach London.' When we arrived, we found that eight ships had been lost, ambng
which was that in which my friend had agreed to go, and every soul therein perished Prais;
the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: This was the Lord's doing, and it is still
rharvellous in mine eyes.”
MRS. GRACE BENNET. 423
me into hell ! Indeed, the Lord does know, I would rejoice evermore,
and pray without ceasing ; and many times I have great reason so to
do ; for the Lord doth often comfort my soul with the consolations of
his Spirit. But still, I am afraid, when these comforts are gone, lest
they are not from the Spirit of God. Yet, I find they draw my heart
after God and heaven. O thou that knowest all things, thou knowest
that I love thee.—Many think, ‘Mrs. B. has no trials; she has no
doubts or fears.” Oh that it were so ! But they are much mistaken.
My want of God’s presence in my soul, is worse to me than all outward
afflictions. As to the world, I have all it can give me. Blessed be
God, he has given me a son, who supplies me with all I want in the
world; and I doubt not but God will give it him again. It is not any
thing below the skies that troubles me; no, it is what the world can
neither give nor take away, that I mourn for. Sometimes I can say,
“Cheer up my soul, be not afraid,
For Christ is near at hand;
And thou shalt surely with him be,
When he on Sion stands.”
Those are sweet and pleasant moments. Praise the Lord, O my soul |
for thou hast largely tasted of his comforts in times past; then, hope
thou in God, for thou shalt yet praise him, who is the health of thy
COuntenance.
“January 27, 1797. What a night of tossings has the Lord brought
me through 1 Here I will set up my Ebenezer, and praise my God. I
feel and see my fallen state in such a degree, that if God, in his great
mercy, did not point me to the fulness that is in Christ, I should de-
spair still. O wicked, damning unbelief My soul is many times sick
through that many-headed monster : when I think it is gone, it rears
its head again and affrights me. It is of God’s wonderful mercy I am
not cut off, and cast into hell. This is my just demerit, but,
I have an Advocate above,
A Friend before the throne of love.”
I read that he is made of God to them that believe, “wisdom, right-
ousness, sanctification, and redemption;' but do I believe " I dare not
say, I do not believe. I know I was accepted in the Beloved, and God
cannot change ; therefore, my soul, hold fast thy confidence, “let no
one take thy crown.” I would fain say, The will of the Lord be done ;
but I am loath to give up my Isaac. Oh for Abraham’s faith ! When
I think of him, I sink into nothing. But, am I called to expect such
faith as Abraham had 4 Why not seeing God is the same in all his
attributes: and I believe, if I could act faith upon God as I ought, I
should see wonders performed even for such a poor sinner as me. Yea,
I have seen wonderful things; but I will give God the glory. ... I would
not, however, be understood to think myself like Abraham ; but I find
a principle in my soul, that would show my love to my Lord, if I knew
how. Teach me, O Lord thy will and my duty
“June 28. I have been in the school of Christ nearly sixty years;
and the nearer I approach eternity, the more I see my need of a com-
plete Saviour. Oh, how I admire the glorious plan of redemption by
the Son of God O Lord Jesus, I would lie in the dust before thee :
may my desires to love thee be accepted Amen.
424 MEMOIRS OF
“Sept. 19. I bless God, I feel a revival in my dry, drooping soul
I have had a long winter-season, and all through reasoning. If Satan
can bringusto pore upon our own hearts, till we lose the sight and sense
of Christ’s fulness, he gains his end. This, the Lord knows, I am now
saying from bitter experience. Yes, in deep waters hath my soul tra-
vailed; through floods of temptations have I passed ; but out of them
all the Lord has brought me. . He hath again set my feet upon him-
self, the Rock of ages; and I doubt not.—How tenderly doth my hea-
venly Father deal with me, so unworthy | I feel my bodily strength and
all my faculties decline more within these three months, than for a
twelvemonth before. I can rejoice that my journey is almost over.
Methinks I sometimes see those that once were my companions here,
but now inheriting mansions above, stand waiting their Lord's command
to go and fetch their sister-spirit home. I doubt not of our joyful meet-
ings. The Lord has given me a love-token this morning, in prayer, that
he will come quickly. O how sweet is the name of Jesus to my soul I
sweeter than all perfumes 1 Give me my God, and let all the world for-
sake me ! *
“March 14, 1799. What the Lord has brought me through, during
several weeks past, tongue cannot express. Surely, if God had not
been with me, I had been destroyed by the furies of hell. I was brought
to great extremity; stripped as it were of all sense of God or heavenly
things. I was quite under a dark veil for weeks. No one but God
knows what I laboured under. I did not know that I had fallen into
any sin; but Satan suggested, that I had been unfaithful to grace receiv-
ed. This I could not deny. I went, therefore, to God with all my com-
plaints; I poured out my soul before him ; but it seemed to be all in vain,
as if God did not regard my grief. But, just as I was giving up my
hope, these words were given me, “Hope thou in God, for thou shalt
yet praise him, who is thy God.’ My grief assuaged; hope sprung up in
my soul, and my joy in the Lord was renewed. I believed that God
loveth with an everlasting love. Praise the Lord, O my soul l and let
not this great deliverance slip out of thy mind.
“January 17, 1800. I have lived to enter upon another century,
and am now nearly eighty-five years of age ; a wonder to myself and to
many But why should we wonder'ſ Is it not God that gave me life
and has he not a right to continue it so long as will be for his glory "
For what cause I am spared, is best known to my heavenly Father: and
this I can say in his presence, “Suffer me not to live a day longer than
is for thy glory ! For me to live is Christ, but to die is gain; yet, I do
not choose : His willis best. Then, help me, Lord, to wait thy appointed
time, till my change come ! Sometimes I have pleasing thoughts, that
some of my old companions will come to meet me, and welcome me
home.—But my eyes forbid me at present saying any more.
“January 19. Lord’s-day morning. Our prayer-meeting was a time
to be remembered; the place was filled with the presence of God; all
were humbled in the dust before him; our hearts were deeply melted
with a sense of his love. Praise the Lord, O my soul!
“June 23. , I was helped to go to hear Mr. M preach an awful
sermon from the mighty God speaking to Moses out of the burning bush.
It was good for me that I was there. I was struck with holy awe,
which I want more and more to feel. Oh, I long for the time when I
MRS. GRACE BENNET. 425
shall cast my crown before his feet, and sing, ‘Worthy is the Lamb
that was slain l’ &c. Miss D is going, but I may be gone before
her. I shall be glad to welcome her into the regions of bliss. We have
talked to each other about the Sweet name of Jesus; but then we shall
see him face to face. O transporting thought ! Then all gloom shall
be fled !”
The above is the last entry in her Diary; her sight being now so im-
paired, that she could no longer guide her pen. And from this time she
began to feel very sensibly the greatest affliction she had yet suffered,
namely, the great difficulty of reading the word of God, which for so
many years had been her chief joy. Every help was used to assist her
in this ; and so long as she could, by any efforts whatsoever, distinguish
the words, and collect the sense, of the sacred pages, they were her con-
tinual meditation. Many tears did she shed when she could no longer
read for herself the precious volume of inspiration ; and if now and then
a lucid interval occurred, when she could as it were catch a glance of
its contents, she spoke of it with most lively thankfulness and joy. Fre-
quently, also, did she bless God, for having inspired her heart so much
to delight in reading his word formerly, since her memory was thereby
stored with Scripture, on which she could reflect and converse with plea-
sure. The remainder of her days were spent with unabating zeal in the
good ways of God; particularly in stirring up and encouraging all such
as appeared to have set their faces Zionward, to attend meetings for
prayer and experimental converse, which she had always found so bene-
ficial to her own soul. Young persons of both sexes flocked around her
for spiritual advice, showing the sincerest affection and reverence for her
as a mother in Israel ; and for these she entertained a reciprocal love
and esteem, having no greater joy, than to see them walking in the
truth. As she had a very deep experience in the things of God, and an
extensive acquaintance among his people, she was eminently fitted to
be an instructor of babes, and a comforter of them that mourn. This
was her delightful work, even to the last. She made it the serious busi-
ness of her days, and was found in it when her Lord came.
For some time previous to her last illness, the great enemy of souls
was again permitted to assault and distress her by sore temptations,
and carnal reasonings; particularly through the whole of that day in
the evening of which she had her last meeting with her class. But
such a season of refreshing from the presence of the Lord did she then
experience, as will long be remembered by several. Speaking of this
afterward, but a little before her death, she said: “I had been praying
to the Lord, that I might have a prosperous meeting that night; and,
when we were just entering on the service of it, those words were given
me in a wonderful manner, “The Spirit of God beareth witness with
my spirit, that I am a child of God.” I had such a sense of the par-
doning love of God, of my acceptance in Christ the beloved, and of
my adoption through the Spirit, that I could not help speaking aloud
among the people, ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth.’”. And in so
solemn and affectionate a manner did she commend her Christian friends
to God, and take leave of them, as if she had been certain that her dis-
solution was near at hand. This appears to have been graciously de-
signed by God, to strengthen her for a further and yet more trying con-
flict of soul with the great adversary. He did all in his power to dis-
54
426 MEMOIRS OF
tress her hope, and shake her confidence in God. Scarcely ever before
had she experienced such exercise of spirit, which continued for some
hours; in which she wrestled earnestly with God, and called upon her
Christian friends to wrestle for her. But at length, the Lord gra-
ciously rebuked the adversary, broke in upon her mind with light, filled
her soul with peace, and enabled her to triumph in the full assurance of
hope. After this time, though she was sometimes sharply exercised
with pain and distress in her outward frame, her mind was quite calm,
and comfortably stayed upon God.
On Tuesday morning, (Feb. 22, 1803,) having had a very painful and
restless night, she was extremely weak in body, but in a most sweetly
enlarged frame of soul, rejoicing in a sense of God’s presence with her,
and in the victory which he had given her over the enemies of her
peace. She said: “Blessed be God, I have peace; He is mine, and I
am his. Victory, victory, through the blood of the Lamb He hath
set my soul at liberty.” A little afterwards she added : “I have had
wonderful manifestations of God to my soul, far beyond many; but I
have always been afraid of saying too much, rather than too little ;
wishing rather that my life and conversation should witness to the
truth of my profession. So far as I know my own heart, it has been
my desire and study to adorn the doctrine of God my Saviour in all
things. But I would have no encomiums passed on me. I am a sinner;
saved freely by grace: grace, Divine grace, is worthy to have all the
glory.”—“Some people,” she said, “I have heard speak much of our
being faithful to the grace of God, as if they rested much on their own
faithfulness : I never could bear this. It is God’s faithfulness to his
own word of promise, that is my only security for salvation.” Then,
adverting to the Gospel which she had professed, and the foundation
of her hope towards God, as laid in the atoning blood and righteousness
of Jesus Christ, she raised herself in a solemn attitude, and with most
striking emphasis delivered, in the following language, her dying tes-
timony to the truth as it is in Jesus. “I here declare it before you,
that I have looked on the right hand and on the left, I have cast my
eyes before and behind, to see if there was any possible way of salva-
tion, but by the Son of God; and I am fully satisfied there is not : no,
none on earth, nor all the angels in heaven, could have wrought out sal-
vation for such a sinner: none but the Son of God himself, taking our
nature upon him, and doing all that the holy law required, could have
procured pardon for me a sinner. He has wrought out salvation for
me, and I know that I shall enjoy it for ever.”
The same morning, when her friend Mr. Merrill called on her, she
said to him : “I have had many sweet visits from God with you ; and
we shall rejoice together above. Holy, holy, holy Lord God, how shall
I praise thee for what thou hast done for us ! Eternity will be too short
to speak his praise. I am not able to speak, but God knows we are friends.
We love each other; and we shall part no more.”
Tuesday night she passed with great restlessness and pain, which held
her for many hours, being evidently the pangs of appoaching dissolution;
but through all, she was kept from discovering the least impatience, and
at every interval was lifting up her soul to God, that he would be gracious
to her, and grant her a sweet release; yet saying, “The Lord's time is
best ; the Lord's will be done in us.” By the motions of her lips and
MRS. GRACE BENNET. 427
eyes, as well as by the words she uttered occasionally, it appeared that
she was continually conversing with God, and commending her depart-
ing spirit into His hands who had redeemed her. Several times she re-
peated with great sensibility these words: “When will his chariot wheels
advance, to call his exiled home Sweet Jesus, come quickly, and set
my soul at rest l” i
Wednesday morning, (Feb. 23,) being somewhat revived, she said, “I
have been exceeding low for some time, that I could not speak much ;
but, glory be to God, Jesus is mine, and I am his, and that’s enough for
me.” The Rev. Mr. S. calling upon her, she was enabled to express
with great clearness, and in a very striking manner, her full persuasion
of the certainty of the Gospel hope, and the comfortable assurance she
had, that in a little while she should join the blessed and glorious throng
above, in singing the praises of God and the Lamb for ever. The rest
of the day she was much exercised with pain of body; but her soul was
almost continually wrestling with God in prayer. About midnight, she
fell asleep in Jesus, with these words, which were the last that could be
understood: “Glory be to thee, my God: peace thou givest me !”
M. R. S. M A R T H A FLIGHT.
MRs. M. FLIGHT was born at Abingdom, in Berkshire, in the year of
our Lord 1725. Her maiden name was Tomkins. Her parents and all
her family were respectable as to their worldly circumstances, and emi-
ment for their religious characters. She was left an orphan while young,
and was the eldest of five children, one of whom died in childhood, and
all the rest before her, and, there is reason to believe, in the faith and
hope of the Gospel. * -: *
She became truly pious, and made conscience of the duties of the
closet in her childhood. She has been often heard to say, with gratitude
to God, that she could not recollect the time when her mind was desti-
tute of serious impressions. Her religious character was formed,
through grace, partly under the instructions of her parents, and the minis-
try of the word at Abingdon; partly under the tuition of two eminently
godly women, who kept a boarding-school at Hackney, under whose
care she was placed at the age of fourteen or fifteen; and partly under
the ministry of the late venerable Dr. King, whose memory she highly
respected, and would often repeat the substance of his sermons which
she had heard with pleasure and profit forty or fifty years before. She
often admired and adored the disposing hand of Divine Providence,
which, after she had lost her parents, placed her in a school, where a
chief object of education was the promotion of the knowledge and fear
of God; where religious principles made a part of every week's exercise,
and where she was brought under that ministry of the word, by which
the serious impressions made in her childhood were revived and con-
firmed.
Respecting her general Christian deportment through life, it may be
proper to observe a few things. She was regular and serious in waiting
upon God in all public ordinances, never absenting herself except through
necessity, and always making conscience of being in her pew a sufficient
time to compose her thoughts before worship began. She often express-
ed a deep concern when she had observed members of the church absent
without cause, at the stated seasons of worship, and had seen any come
in after worship was begun; both which she considered as manifesting
great want of love to the regular ordinances of the church, and neglect
of the authority of Christ, as grievous to the minds of his ministers and
steady disciples, and tending even to the dissolution of regular churches.
These things are mentioned as forming one prominent trait in her cha-
racter, and which deeply affected her mind during some of the last years
of her life.
She was not less distinguished by her religious observance of the Sab-
bath in her own house. Such was her concern for the religious im-
provement of her servants, that she generally arranged her family affairs
morning and afternoon; but, having done this, she would not suffer them
so as to give them an opportunity of attending public worship both to
attend evening lectures, but called them together, and asked them ques-
tions concerning what they had heard in the course of the day; some-
times catechised them, heard them read a portion of Scripture, generally
“Nº.
* MRS. MARTHA FLIGHT. 429
read a sermon to them herself, and conversed freely with them about
the worth of their souls, warning, exhorting, and admonishing them as
occasion required. And, for the encouragement of the heads of families,
we must not omit to mention the happy effects that followed these reli-
gious exercises. They proved instrumental, in the course of her life, of
the conversion of several who resided under her roof, and were comfort-
able and edifying to others, of which she received most ample testimo-
nies; particularly a letter from a servant who had lived with her several
years before, and had become the mother of children, who were begin-
ning to inquire after God. That letter is full of holy gratitude to Him
who fixes the bounds of our habitation, that she had been directed into
her family, where, she acknowledges, that she received her first awaken-
ings, and was led to Christ, with which she connects the hope of the
salvation of her own children. Mrs. Flight did not disapprove of Lord’s
day evening lectures. On the contrary, esteeming them very important
to those who had not an opportunity of attending public worship on the
former parts of the day, she generously contributed to their support ; but
she thought them a very improper substitute for family instruction and
worship.
Her acts of beneficence and charity were very considerable. The ob-
jects she relieved were, principally, the religious poor, helpless children,
and orphans. In her exertions on behalf of the last of these, few have
equalled her; and when the young were the objects of her beneficence,
it was always accompanied with her best counsel and advice.
Her health and strength had evidently been upon the decline three
or four years before her dissolution. She was, however, so far recovered
as not to be without expectation, nor were her friends without hope, that
she might have lived several years; but it was otherwise determined by
the sovereign Lord of life and death. Just before she was seized with
her last illness, (at which time she had not the least apprehension of the
near approach of death,) she said to the writer of this Memoir, she was
persuaded some severe trial was coming upon her ; for that, for some
little time past, she had experienced such remarkable Divine consolation
as she did not recollect she had ever before enjoyed; which she consider-
ed as designed to strengthen her for some heavy affliction. She added,
“As I lay upon my bed last night, in a sweet sleep, I was suddenly
awakened by the force of Divine consolation, and my mind was instantly
filled with such a rich variety of promises, that I could sleep no more.
Those words in Titus, i. 2, dwelt particularly upon my mind: ‘In hope
of eternal life, which God, that cannot lie, promised before the world
fiegan.” I recollected to have heard you preach ſrom them a few years
ago, and that I had borrowed your notes and not returned them ; I there-
fore rose out of bed, and searched for them ; and, in reading and medi-
tating upon the subject, the great promise of eternal life given by a faithful
God before the world began, filled my mind with such joy as I never
felt before.” . . . . . . . . . . . * * & *
Her general conversation was that of a Christian well grounded in
the principles of the Gospel, rich in experience, in the habitual exercise
of faith and hope, resting her soul entirely upon the free, sovereign, and
everlasting love of God in Christ, looking to his blood for pardon, and
to his righteousness, in which she hoped very soon to stand with accep-
tance before God. - . . . - :
430 MEMOIRS OF
After she was confined to her bed-room, being asked the state of her
mind, she replied in the following lines of Dr. Watts:
“The Gospel bears my spirits up;
A faithful and unchanging God
Lays the foundation for my hope,
In oaths, and promises, and blood.”
During the whole of this interview, her soul appeared full of confi-
dence in the covenant of grace. Although she manifested no ecstacy of
joy, she discovered serenity and complacency of mind, together with great
resignation to the will of God in prayer.
A few days after, her mind was greatly exercised with the exceeding
sinfulness of sin. After some conversation with her on the infinite
merit of the Redeemer’s blood, she mentioned having read in the wri-
tings of Dr. Owen, that “the great work of the believer is, to take all
his sins to Jesus Christ, and to leave them with him, and to bring away
his righteousness for himself;” she added, “This, I hope, I have been
enabled to do. I am sure, if there were not infinite merit and perfec-
tion in the blood and righteousness of Christ, it is imposible that I should
be saved.” Her mind continued for several days in a comfortable frame,
patiently waiting for her expected change. But about a week after,
she experienced a season of great darkness; her faith, however, stood
firm, though her comfort was much abated. She repeated, with no
small emotion, the first two verses of Dr. Watts's version of the sixty-
third Psalm :
“Great God, indulge my humble claim:
Thou art my hope, my joy, my rest!
he glories that compose thy name,
Stand all engag'd to make me blest. $4
“Thou great and good, thou just and wise,
Thou art my Father and my God,
And I am thine by sacred ties,
Thy Son thy servant bought with blood.”
Her light and comfort soon returned ; when she said to the minister
who visited her, “A great variety of promises are continually passing
through my mind. I now experience the happiness of having beer
conversant with the Scriptures from my childhood; my mind is full of
the word of God.” She added ; “I recollect having heard you preach
from these words: “And let the word of Christ dwell richly in you.” I
have often since thought upon the subject. You observed, that it would
greatly assist in secret prayer and meditation, and be a support in times
of affliction, and upon a dying bed. I now feel the truth of these ob-
servations. I could not now do without the word of God. The promises
treasured up in my mind are a source of constant consolation ; my mind
is filled with them; they are never absent from me; and, O ! how sweet
and precious they are l”
But her spiritual conflicts were not all yet over. About a week or ten
days after, her mind was again overspread with darkness; but she sunk
not into despair. She said: “All is darkness within. The promises
pass through my mind; but I cannot take the comfort of them; they
seem as a dead letter. I feel the necessity of the accompanying influences
of the Holy Spirit of God to apply them.” . It was suggested to her,
that perhaps the weak state of her body might have an influence upon
MRS. MARTHA FLIGHT. 431
her mind. She said, “she believed it had, and that Satan also was
busy with her.” She added, “Though I cannot keep my thoughts
fixed a moment upon the promises, nor upon the great truths of the
Gospel which have been my support all through life; and though all
my former experience appears at times as a dream; yet, am I so satis-
fied in my judgment that the word of God is true, and that what I have
experienced has been from the Spirit of God, that I would not give up
my hope in the Gospel for ten thousand worlds. . It is all I have to trust
to, and, whether it be dark or light in my mind, I know God’s word is
true, and that He is the same under every dispensation. All my sins have
been passing before me ; the sins of my childhood and youth, of which
I have had no recollection from that time to the present, are now set in
order before me. I abhor myself, and appear to be the vilest wretch that
ever lived. I now have apprehensions that my sins are too many and
great to be forgiven.” After many expressions of this kind, she paused.
I took occasion to suggest, that redemption by Christ was fully sufficient.
She eagerly replied: “I know it, I know it; I am not in despair. What
I now labour under, is a temptation. The suggestions made to my
mind I know are false; but they are very painful to bear. I abhor
them ; and I know that no state of sin can exceed the redemption that
there is in Christ ; and even now, I feel support in the words of our
Lord to his disciples: ‘Let not your heart be troubled : ye believe in
God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions:
if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for
you ; and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and
receive you unto myself, that where I am there ye may be also.’”—
She quoted many other passages of Scripture of the like encouraging
nature. In the whole of the conversation, she discovered such strong
faith in, and firm adherence to, the truth of the Gospel, under an almost
total absence of comfort, as has seldom been witnessed. She joined
with great fervour in prayer. She lived but a little time longer; her
conflicts presently ceased ; her joy in believing was fully restored ; and
with perfect calmness and serenity, in the possession of all her mental
faculties, she fell asleep in Jesus on the morning of March 5th, 1802, in
the seventy-seventh year of her age.
Thus ended a life of uniform Gospel obedience, which began in
childhood, and was maintained from first to last by faith in the great
and distinguishing doctrines of the Gospel ; which drew all its supplies
from the Fountain of grace, in a steady adherence to the administration
of the word and ordinances of God, and in the discharge of every religious
duty in the family and in the closet. This excellent Christian, being
dead, yet speaketh, especially to parents, and to those who have the care
of youth, that they make the great concerns of religion a leading branch
of their education. May young and old tread in her steps, as the way
to the same happy end ?
MRs. ELEANOR DORNFORD.
MRs. DoRNFord was born August the 13th, 1735, and was daughter
of John and Mary Layton. Her father was an eminent shipbuilder;
he died when she was young, and left a competent fortune behind him
for each of his children. In a little manuscript book, in which she has
mentioned the dealings of God with her soul, she thus adverts to the
circumstances of her early life.
“August the 13th, 1776. Merciful Lord l as thou hast been pleased
to spare me to this day, suffer me to set up my Ebenezer here, for hi-
therto hath the Lord helped me. Give me power, strength, and ability,
to commemorate thy gracious dealings with thy servant, and to enume-
rate the many favours and blessings I have received at thy hands for
forty-one years, which have been the years of thy servant. Thou hast
been my Father, even from my mother’s womb. Am I not thy child?
Yes, glory be to thee, I feel I am thine by an everlasting covenant,
thine by adoption and grace, whereby I can call thee Abba, Father.
“Should this fall into the hands of any of my dear children or friends,
may it be an encouragement to them to trust in thee; for, ‘in the Lord
Jehovah is everlasting strength,’ and he will be ‘nigh unto all those
that call upon him” in sincerity and truth. “When thy father and mo-
ther forsake thee, the Lord taketh thee up.’ This I can subscribe to, for
my father died when I was of too tender an age to know any thing of
him, not being above a year old, when the Lord was pleased to release
him from much pain and sorrow. My mother married again; but, by
the unkind usage of her second husband, was mercifully weaned from
this world, and having lingered about ten years after my father, fell
asleep in the Lord. From the time she was dying, I think I may date the
first remembrance of the dealings of God with my soul, as I recollect I
was then at prayer in my bed for her life. Though she never paid me
much attention, by reason of her continual ill state of health, yet, I
felt a pungent sorrow at losing her, and prayed much for her life, till a
thought struck me, ‘ that I ought to be resigned to the will of God, and
not to pray either for her life or death;’ and therefore I was left dumb
before the Lord with much weeping.
“I laid down rules for a holy walk with God, and brought myself to
stated times of prayer; but this was all in secret, as I had no one to
teach me by example or precept.”
Having formed and cherished a strong attachment to a cousin, but
feeling scruples as to the expediency of being united in marriage to a
relation, she retired for about a year and a half to Weymouth, during
which period her cousin was brought to the knowledge of God. In
consequence of which he wrote to her, and received in answer a letter,
part of which here follows:
“I cannot leave you in an error concerning the duty I owe to the
Supreme Being ; so I take the first opportunity of answering yours of
yesterday, to justify myself in that point as well as I can. I am not a
little concerned that you should entertain so mean an opinion of me, as
MRS. ELEANOR DORNFORD. 433
to think I had not read the Scriptures sufficiently to understand what is
made so plain to the meanest capacity. Yes, I have endeavoured, as
much as in my power, to act according to the rules prescribed by our
dear Redeemer, and have commemorated his sufferings for us every
time the holy Sacrament has been administered since I have been in this
place. I must own I had not the same opportunity for it before, nor
was my mind so serene then to admit of it; but here I have had nothing
to disturb my tranquillity. I have taken innocent diversions, which I
have thought no harm in pursuing : I avoid that which I am conscious
is not right, and never keep company with any whose morals are not as
good as my own. This, my outward behaviour, as well as my conscience,
can justify, though, by your letter, you seem to have entertained a very
different opinion of me.
“Your intention was very good in sending me the enclosed pam-
phlets; but there was no need of any thing more to confirm me in my
religion, than what I had before read. As for Bishop Beveridge, I have
long been acquainted with him, he being a great favourite of mine. I
will keep in the same path I have hitherto done; which I hope will
at last bring me to everlasting life. I have no more to add, but re-
main,” &c.
When she wrote this letter, no doubt she was as sincere as St. Paul
before his going to Damascus. But her own account of the subsequent
change wrought on her mind, will supply the best comment on the self-
righteous tone of the above extract.
“My intention was to have returned to Weymouth ; but my grand-
mother dying, the lady with whom I boarded came to reside in town,
which entirely put an end to that intention. . I heard the Rev. Mr.
R. , and was convinced in my judgment, that what was preached
was the truth, and found a desire to experience the validity of it in my
own soul. After this, I was frequently on my knees in private, begging
of God to bring me to the knowledge of himself and the pardon of sin.
I began to see myself a lost, undone creature, without Christ. I was
restless and unhappy, and could taste no real joy in anything. My
friends saw a change in me; for, as before I was lively, and of a gay,
cheerful turn, I now became dull, and took little notice of any thing.
Some pitied me, others laughed at me. I was spoiled for the world, and
was not happy in God; but I could not rest without the assurance of sal-
vation. I saw the necessity of becoming a new creature. I felt that
I could give up all for Christ. This brought a joy unspeakable into my
soul. I fell on my knees instantly, to praise God for what he had already
done for me; and I could trust him for what he would yet do in me ;
and my soul was all joy; it was a ‘peace which passeth all understand-
in .” 29
§he was married to Mr. Dornford, December 14, 1759, at St. Dun-
stan’s in the West, by the Rev. W. Romaine, who was then lecturer of
that church. The following extracts from her diary will discover the
state of her mind, as she entered into the cares of life.
“My soul continued in a happy, peaceful frame for some time; but the
cares of the world came on very rapidly. In less than five years,
I had five dear little boys; but, at the fortnight’s end of the fifth,
that, and another of a year old, died in a week: however, the Lord.
was my support, and brought me through with shouting, so that I
55
434 * MEMOIRS OF
had reason to cry out, Grace 1 grace | I had no more children for four
years; then I rejoiced over a fine girl: but he whose wisdom is in the
great deep, saw fit to take her unto himself in two days. This trial also
I was enabled to bear with great resignation. After this, I had many and
sore conflicts. My soul, through the weakness of my frame, had many
doubts and fears; but that God who is ever faithful to his promises, never
left nor forsook us, but was continually blessing us ‘in our basket and
in our store.’”
About this time, being in an ill state of health, she took a journey
into Yorkshire. During her stay in the country, she wrote several
pieces of religious poetry, of which the following are specimens.
E. D. to J. D. from Yorkshire, June, 1767.
The thousand beauties which surround,
The hills, the dales, th’ enamell’d ground,
Birds, beasts, and flowers, conspire to raise
My heart to God, to sing his praise.
Come then, ye sweet, angelic throng,
Teach me your notes, inspire my song:
Lend, lend me your exalted strains;
Let harmony fift all the plains.
Emanuel's love shall be my theme;
Join, gentle brook and murm'ring stream:
Ye little warblers, swell your throats,
Assist me with your softest notes.
Whilst I repeat redeeming love,
Echo it back through all the grove;
Till sinners flock to hear the sounds,
And sing his love, which knows no bounds.
ON DEATH.
Ah! king of terrors, cease to fright
My weary, troubled soul;
I long and wish, but dread the sight,
While Jordan's billows roll.
Then put a pleasing aspect on,
Nor let me fear thy face;
For Christ the mighty battle won,
And I am sav’d by grace.
I fly to meet my promis'd rest,
*. regions far above;
For solid joys are there possest,
And il are fill'd with love.
Adieu, ye flatt’ring forms of bliss,
Nor dare to tempt me more;
4. Ye yield no lasting happiness,
Like that on yonder shore.
For faith has pluck'd, the monster's sting,
And set the pris'ner free;
To God will I give thanks and sing,
Who gives the victory.
Mrs. Dornford, for the greater part of her life, walked in the light of
God’s countenance; but she had her dark hours, and was sometimes
“in heaviness through manifold temptations.” The verses following
were written when she was in distress of mind. *
MRS. ELEANOR DORNFORD. 435
*
IN TEMPTATION.
I’m rack'd with sore temptations strong:
My heart can hold no more;
Distracting thoughts break from my tongue,
My eyes with tears run o’er.
Pray’r is restrain’d; I cannot pray,
I only make my moan.
Ah me! in woful sighs I say,
My God! in ev'ry groan.
Still in this vale of wo I'm tos’t,
No human comfort nigh:
To look within myself, I'm lost,
To Jesus then I'll fly.
What is there here to make me blest?
'Tis all an empty show.
This world a bubble is at best;
There's no true bliss below.
O come, my Saviour, from above,
Refresh my weary soul;
Embrace me with thine arms of love,
Then let the billows roll.
My soul Jehovah shall adore
No rival shall be there:
Temptations now shall reign no more,
Nor fears, nor anxious care.
ſº “December 31, 1776.
“This being the last day of the year, I desire to praise God for all his
mercies to me, from the day of my birth unto this moment.” About this
time she wrote the following hymn :
Jesus, my Saviour and Friend,
On whom I cast every care,
On whom I for mercy depend,
Inspire and accept of my prayer.
Still keep me, and guide me aright,
Nor evera moment depart;
Thy love shall be all my delight,
I'll hold thee still close to my heart.
My trust is in what thou hast done,
Thy suffrings, and death on the tree;
No merit I plead of my own,
Nor righteousness, Lord, but in thee.
The year 1777 she began with these words:
“January 1, 1777.
“Glory be to God, who has permitted me to see the beginning of
another year ! Grant, O blessed Redeemer that I may improve it more
to thy honour and glory, than the years that are past.
“May 18. This day, being Whitsunday, I was at the table of our
Lord, and received those comfortable words, that “He died for me,’ with
much faith and power. God grant that I may always have a thankful
remembrance of that precious blood of Christ, which was shed for me
and all those who believe in his name.
“March 18, 1778. Now, O my God let me begin again. How
have I neglected and abused thy goodness, in sparing me to this moment!
Help me, O my God! to set forth and to declare thy loving-kindness to
436 MEMOIRS OF MRS. DORNFORD.
me, who deserves not the least of thy mercies, and yet thou art ever load-
ing me with thy bounties. Thou didst shake the rod over me; but thy
bowels did yearn, and thou hast spared me and mine to this hour. O
let me dedicate the remainder of my days to thy service.”
Mrs. Dornford’s health from this time continued to decline. The
dropsy, attended with other complaints, made so rapid progress, that she
hardly experienced a day's health ; but her soul grew “in grace, and in
the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.” As she drew
nearer her end, she had still larger and clearer manifestations of the
love of God to her soul. Her will seemed to be wholly swallowed up
in the will of God. Though the very nature of her disorder tended to
make her uncomfortable to herself and her friends, and made her some-
times long to be well, that she might be more useful, and a little uneasy
that she could not do many things in her family which she wanted to
do; yet, this also, for some time before her death, seemed quite done
away, and she was enabled to make an entire surrender of body and soul
to the will and pleasure of God. *
When anyone called to see her, she generally spake to them of the
love of Christ to sinners, and exhorted them to seek an interest in him.
She was for some time before her death brought to that sweet disposition
of mind; “willing to depart and to be with Christ,” or to stay as long
as God pleased. Finding that the physicians could do her no good,
and that it was considered by them as a lost case, she dismissed them
with thanks, and said she would give herself into the hands of her great
Physician, and let him do with her whatever he pleased.
As her life drew near to its period, she was almost ahways in a praying or
praising frame, and used to say, “O never doubt of the goodness of God
any more ſ” She had learned to live upon God by faith from moment to
moment. She took literally “no thought for the morrow,” and arrived at
that blessed state of mind, to be disentangled from all creatures and
things.” She justified God always, saying, “He does all things well.” As
for death or dying, she seemed to leave it all to God, never expressing
the least fear about it. That she expected death very soon, was plain
from many expressions she made use of. Two or three days before her
death, she said to a friend, “I expect the water will very soon reach
my heart, and then I am gone.” She said, she “now could give up all
into the hands of God, and was wholly disentangled from all creatures.”
She continued cheerful and happy all the day, for the “joy of the Lord
was her strength.”
Death came on her that night; she was very restless, but never lost
her senses. Among other things she said, “As the outward man de-
cays, the inward man is renewed.” About five in the morning she
went seemingly into a sweet sleep. On her continuing to sleep longer
than usual, it was concluded that she was dying, but she was “sleep-
ing in Jesus:” nor had she one of those dreadful symptoms which
usually attend the “king of terrors;” so sweetly and so easily did she
resign her soul into the hands of her dear Redeemer.
Thus she lived and died a Christian indeed, an “Israelite without
guile;” one who, through divine grace, was “ redeemed from all ini-
quity ;” one, who was restored to the favour and to the image of God,
a living temple of the ever-blessed God.
M. R. S. H. A N N A H W O O D D.
MRs. HANNAH Woodd was born at Richmond, in Surry, on the 19th
of April, 1736. In July, 1759, she was married to Mr. Basil Woodd,
who was also born at Richmond in 1730, and with whom she had been
acquainted from her infancy. Such a union, cemented by long en-
dearment and similarity of disposition, promised a scene of much tem-
poral felicity; but a mysterious dispensation of Divine Providence de-
termined it otherwise. The January following, Mr. Woodd, being
then from home on a visit, was seized with a violent fever, and died
on the 12th of that month. So great a shock, to a mind of her sensi-
bility, could leave no faint impression; but it pleased God to support
her in this keen trial, and on the 5th of August following, she was
delivered of a son. Providence wonderfully interposed in her favour ;
and both root and branch, though then apparently withering, were pre-
served together, just as many years longer as she had then lived.
The afflictive circumstance of her husband's death, nevertheless,
proved an eventual blessing, though conveyed in the disguise of wo.
By one stroke her mind was severed from worldly prospects, and being
rent from the love of the creature, she now began more anxiously to
seek the knowledge and love of the Creator. She had from early life
been of a devout turn of mind, a strict observer of moral duties, and
the ritual of religion ; but now, in the day of adversity, she was brought
to deeper views of the depravity of her heart, and the need she stood
in of a Saviour. She perceived the insufficiency of her own righ-
teousness, and the necessity of being born again.
Pious friends, who had sympathized in her late affliction, now ob-
serving the spiritual concern of her mind, availed themselves of this op-
portunity to bring her under the ministry of the Gospel. Amongst these
were principally the late Mrs. Conyers and Mrs. Wilberforce, with whom
her acquaintance had commenced at school, and by whom she was about
this time introduced to the acquaintance of Dr. Conyers and the Rev.
Mr. Wenn. In the spirit of true Christian friendship, they lamented that
she had hitherto had no better instruction than mere moral essays, and
brought her acquainted with sound evangelical principles. These proved
indeed the spiritual food which her soul hungered after : she received
them in faith and love, adorned them in her life, and found them her
triumph in her dying hour.
From this happy period, to a disposition naturally benign and amiable,
were added the graces of the Holy Spirit; and the Christian motive of
love to the Lord Jesus gave life and spirituality to her moral duties. Re-
ligious exercises, which hitherto she had not regarded higher than as a
devout form of godliness, now became her soul’s delight. She ordinarily
retired thee times in the day for private prayer; at morning, noon, and
at evening. Love to God her Saviour led her with cheerful feet to the
courts of the Lord's house;—a privilege she so highly valued, that she
rarely permitted inclement weather, or the late decay of her health, to
interfere with it.
438 MEMOIRS OF
-*. x *
Though filial affection may be suspected of exaggerating a mother's
excellence, yet, it is but justice to say, that, in every department, she
was a lovely ornament of the truth as it is in Jesus; paticularly as a
daughter, a mother, and a mistress. As to the former relation, she con-
stantly attended her father till his death, at the advanced age of 87 ;*
who, though he was very much prejudiced against her religious princi-
ples, yet lived to have his mind greatly won by her uniform conduct;
and on his death-bed, he regretted that he had ever opposed her; and
acknowledged in the most affecting manner his long experience of her
filial duty.
As a mother, the Rev. Dr. Conyers frequently said, that he never
saw such an instance of maternal affection. Her son says: “This is a
subject on which, I hope, I shall never think without heartfelt gratitude
to her and to God, who so favoured me. The whole of her deportment
was calculated to win my early attention to religion. I saw in her what
it could do; how happy how cheerful how humble ! how holy 1 how
lovely in life, and afterwards in death how full of mercy and good fruits
it could render the happy possessor As I was the only son of my mother,
and she a widow, she might perhaps lean to the side of over-indulgence.
Yet, if my heart do not deceive me, in trusting that I love the ways of
God, I am indebted, through Divine grace, for that inestimable benefit,
to the impression of her great and tender kindness, her uniform exam-
ple, and particularly her pious and affectionate letters, when I was about
thirteen years old. Such, indeed, has been the impression of her pa-
rental affection, that though my friends, I believe, have never charged
me with filial negligence, yet, since her desease, I have regretted very
frequently that, in many little instances, I conceive I might have shown
her still more respect and affection.”
As a mistress, she exhibited not less excellence. If she erred, her
error was the excess of kindness and humility. In the few changes
which happened in her service, her first attention was to the spiritual
welfare of a new servant. And by the Divine blessing on her pious
conversation, the religious books which she put in their hands, and the
kindness of her deportment towards her inferiors, three of her servants
were conciliated to become followers of her, as she was also of Christ
Jesus.
If there was in any of her acquaintance the least appearance of incipi-
ent piety, it is well remembered with what tender anxiety she would pray,
would weep, would warn, would encourage, and strive all in her power
to fan the spark, and prevent its expiring. In a word, as an eminent
minister said of her, when informed of her decease, and what a glorious
testimony she had given on her death-bed : “It was indulgent in God
to grant it, but Mrs. Woodd needed no such testimony: her life had been
one continued testimony to the truth, and no particular testimony was
requisite at her death.-There is not a person in the parish, who has heard
the report that Mrs. Woodd is dead, but has instantly observed, Well that
woman is gone to heaven.”
Yet, with this amiable lustre of character, while no one doubted of her
eternal safety, she was full of doubts and fears herself. Self-suspicion
and a dread of judging too favourably of her own state, pervaded all
* September 1st, 1778.
MRS, HANNAH WOODD. 439
her experience. Sermons which urged and assisted self-examination,
as well as those which exhibited the glory and free grace of the Saviour,
were to her ears peculiarly acceptable. “Try me, O God! and search
the ground of my heart,” was her earnest supplication. She had a
hope, which she would not give up ; but still she rejoiced with trem-
bling. Hence, until it pleased God to afflict her with bodily infirmities,
her attainments in this respect rarely exceeded an humble confidence.
In the year 1779, was laid the foundation of the disorder which at
length occasioned her death. A severe fit of illness confined her to her
room six or seven months. From that time, she was much afflicted
with a species of rheumatic gout, which occasioned great pain, weak-
ness, and swelling in the joints. She made trial of sea-bathing, and
repaired to Harrowgate, Buxton, Bath, &c. Various means were
used, but the remedy remained unknown. The last year of her life
she was unable to rise from her seat without assistance, and was almost
in a state of helplessness. The disorder at last attacked her stomach.
An entire loss of appetite took place, and a perpetual sickness, which
baffled all medicine.
God now visited her soul with more peculiar manifestations of the light
of his Divine countenance. She believed her end to be approaching,
and seemed to be gradually filled with unspeakable joy, as the day
drew nigh, which for ever terminated all her sorrow.
Since her decease, upon looking over a kind of diary which her hu-
mility forbade any one to open in her lifetime, we have met with the fol-
lowing meditation on the last birth-day she spent on earth, which will
inform the reader of the state of her mind, better than any vague de-
scription. It is transcribed, without one alternation, in her own easy,
familiar style.
“ April 19, 1784.
“This is the day of my birth. Oh, my gracious Lord, make me
sensible of thy mercies I would be all praise and thanksgiving. I
would praise thee for my birth, for there thy mercies began, and they
have followed me all my days.—Dearest Lord ' I cannot express my
thanks ; but thou seest my heart, and, I trust, seest me longing to be
thankful Oh that I could render praise and gratitude to thee, who, I
humbly trust, hast new-created my soul. This, this alone, makes the
day of natural birth to be looked back to with comfort. Oh for a grateful
heart | Help me, gracious Lord, to praise thee for all that is past ! My
heart is full.—I want words. Oh help me to look forward I have
lived here a long time; help me to look beyond the grave; to look to
thy right hand. Increase my faith. Help me to believe that thou
hast indeed called me by thy grace, begun the good work, and that thou
wilt carry it on, and keep me ; that where thou my blessed Jesus art,
there thy poor unworthy servant shall be Oh, glory be to thy name,
the work is thine own, and my trust is in thee Oh keep me and save
me, blessed Lord ' I give myself to thee Oh bring me to those blessed
mansions of peace, where I shall be able to praise thee ; where I shall
be delivered from the painful clog of this body, which weighs down my
soul | Prepare me for thy coming ! Oh make me watchful and ready to
meet thee, when thou shalt please to send thymessenger, death, for me !
—Make the pain I continually feel of use to me.—Sure, I cannot be
long here !—O quicken my soul | Fix my affections on heavenly things.
440 MEMOIRS OF
Give me clearer views. Oh give me a sense of pardoned sin I Wash
me in thy precious blood. Clothe me with thy perfect righteousness.
Conform me more to thy Divine image ; and help me to meet death as
a kind friend, come to fetch me home to thee! Amen, amen, thou dear-
est Lord l” -
Religion shines in every situation and circumstance of life; but, as an
incontestable evidence of its own purity and power, it is most transcend-
ent on the eve of dissolution. The Christian then, “like the sun, looks
largest when he sets.” Humanity naturally trembles at the idea of
death. To close the eyes on the most beloved objects; to become a pale,
lifeless corpse; and, concealed from mortal view, to be consigned
over to the prey of worms and corruption, are circumstances which we
shudder at the thought of inevitably experiencing. But to see a soul
with all these views before it, not merely armed with fortitude, not merely
made willing by resignation, but smiling with calm delight at their
appearance, and rejoicing with unspeakable joy at their sensible ap-
proach ; is not this a fact that speaks for itself? Is not this an argu-
ment incontrovertible, an undeniable proof of the support which true
religion can impart to its sincere Votary 4 Is it not an animated com-
ment upon the promise, “I will never leave thee; no, nor ever forsake
thee p"The subject of this memoir was one whose feelings in a striking
manner described the above portrait, without exaggerating or over-
colouring the piece.
On Sunday, the 7th of November, Mrs. Woodd dictated the following
letter to the Rev. Dr. Conyers :
My very DEAR SIR,
I have loved you dearly in the Christian bonds : I now long to let my
dear Dr. Conyers know, that I am dying, and not afraid. I trust I am
going to my dear Father's house. I was never so happy in all the days
of my life.—I would write to tell you what my soul feels in this blessed
prospect, that I might bear my testimony to his grace; that I might
refresh your soul, who have so often refreshed mine, and tell you what
joy I feel in this prospect. I do not doubt of meeting you in heaven, and
my dear child too. -
- Your true Christian friend,
Greenwich Road, Nov. 7, 1784. HANNAH WooDD.
Evidences of the joyful state of her mind may be collected from what
she said on her death-bed. On her son’s return from St. Peter’s, Cornhill,
that evening, she took hold of his hand, and seemed much animated.
* God,” said she, “my dear, has been very gracious this afternoon: he
sent my son from me, but he sent himself to me. O, I am very happy I
am going to my mansion in the skies. I shall soon be there; and oh
I shall be glad to receive you to it. You shall come in, but you shall
never go out ; no, never !”
Pausing a little, she said: “If ever you have a family, tell the child-
ren, they had a grandmother who feared God, and found the comforts of
it on her death-bed. And tell your partner, I shall be glad to see her in
heaven: when you come to glory, you must bring her with you. Let
me tell you, by my own experience, when you come to lie upon your
death-bed, an interest in Jesus will be found a precious possession. O
MRS. HANNAH WOODD. 441
what a mercy of mercies, that we should be brought out of the bondage
of Egypt, and united together in the kingdom of God’s dear Son I
exhort you to preach the gospel: preach it faithfully and boldly. Fear
not the face of man. Endeavour to put in a word of comfort to the
humble believer, to poor weak souls. I heartily wish you success: may
you be useful to the souls of many l”
Being fatigued, she rested some little time. As soon as supper was
over, she renewed her triumphant language; and after she had dic-
tated the preceding letter, she was elated into transports, in speaking
of the boundless love of Christ and his salvation. “It is,” she cried
out, “a glorious salvation! a free, unmerited salvation a full com-
plete salvation | a perfect, eternal salvation It is a deliverance from
every enemy. It is a supply of every want. It is all I can wish for
in time. It is all I can now wish for in death. It is all I shall want
in eternity.”
She went on in this strain for a long while, with an amazing quick
succession of ideas. Then, upon seeing her son, she changed the sub-
ject, and, in the same elevated style, went on for about ten minutes,
blessing and praising God for the great comfort they had experienced in
each other, the union which subsisted between them, and the blessed
hope that, though they were now about to part for a season, they should
one day meet again for ever. In this last instance, her feelings were
worked up to more than she could well sustain; and she spoke with such
rapidity, that it was impossible to take down, or recollect one half
which she said. In the afternoon, she had taken a most affectionate
leave of some of her friends, to whom she expressed a full assurance of
her eternal felicity, and wished them much happiness till she met them
in a better place.
Sunday night, she had but little rest. Monday morning, she desired
a person to read to her the verses on the death of Mrs. Conyers. After
hearing them with great pleasure, she exclaimed, “I shall see that
dear friend of mine again, and her dear partner : we shall unite in
praise for ever.”—Adverting to the adorable Redeemer, she repeated with
great feeling those lines of Mr. Cennick’s :
“I long to see those hands which made me blest,
Those feet which travell'd to procure my rest:
I long to see that dear, that sacred head,
Which bow'd, when on it all my sins were laid.
The angels wait; my Saviour calls;–Farewell !
I go, with him in endless peace to dwell.”
After a short pause she proceeded :
“I long to behold him array'd
With glory and light from above;
The King in his beauty display'd,
His beauty of holiest love.
“I trust, through his grace, to be there,
Where Jesus has fix’d his abode,
Oh when shall we meet in the air,
And fly to the mount of my God "
A short time after, she asked a friend, whether she had a good hope
for her ; and whether, in the opinion of her friends, her life had been
56
442 MEMOIRS OF
A
consistent with her profession. Her friend replied in the affirmative,
and added: “Why should you make yourself anxious about what others
think of you? Have you not a good hope for yourself?”—“Yes,” said
she, “thank God, I have a hope built upon the rock of ages.”
She desired that all who came to the house might see her. This
request, however, a desire to preserve her life a little longer forbade
complying with. Accidentally hearing the name of one who called,
she entreated earnestly she might see him ; upon his coming into the
room, she took hold of his hand, and said, “Ah ! my friend, I am
dying ; but I am going to glory; I shall soon see my dear heavenly
Father. God bless you, and be with you, till I meet you there. I shall
be glad to see you. Farewell.” After his departure she said, “I hope
it will please God not to permit me to dishonour his cause. I trust,
my death will show how God can support a poor weak believer. If it
be his blessed will, I hope I shall die in triumph, and leave behind me
a testimony of his grace. I long to tell others what joy I feel, what
God has done for me, and what God will do for all that trust in him.”
A friend of hers happening to call, who had lost a pious son in the
prime of life, she addressed her with great affection ; “Ah, Mrs. Mason,
I shall soon be in glory; I shall soon see your dear child Samuel ; I
loved him dearly; we shall soon meet again; and in God’s time you shall
join us.”
That same afternoon, she was seized with a strong convulsion fit,
which greatly alarmed her friends. When she came to herself, she did
not seem the least sensible of what had happened, and proceeded in the
same animated manner as before. Soon after her recovery from the fit,
afriend came in, and having felt her pulse, remarked, there was nothing
to be immediately alarmed at. She replied with great eagerness, as if
she, felt injured at the expression, “I am not alarmed; no, I am not afraid:
I am going to heaven.” Perceiving her son near her, she said: “Now
do you vouch for me; am I alarmed " No, I know I shall be happy.”
After a little time, she recollected the circumstance of a person’s
saying, in great agony of mind upon his death-bed, to one who was
present, with much horror, “Woman, how shall I go through this great
scene P’ She repeated the sentence, paused on it for a few minutes,
but then exclaimed with great trimph, “It is no great scene to me; no,
it is a blessed scene ; it is a glorious scene to me. I am going to my
God. I shall see the King in his beauty; I shall be for ever near him;
I shall for ever sing his praises.”
Her heart was again much elated, and was almost overpowered with
sensations of gratitude in reflecting upon God’s goodness towards her.
“God,” she said, addressing her son, “ has greatly indulged my
desires; has answered my prayers in a wonderful manner. How has he
dealt with me in sparing me so long, to see you, my son, settled in life
I remember, when I used to express my anxiety for your eternal welfare
to a friend of mine, he always said, in allusion to the story of Monica,
the mother of St. Augustine, “Go home and make yourself easy ; the
child of those tears can never perish.” Now, my dear, when God has re-
moved me, imitate St. Augustine's behaviour after the death of Monica :
do not be dejected ; think of the happiness I shall then be enjoying, and
say, as he said, when some wondered at his cheerfulness, “My mother
is not a woman to be lamented.’”
MRS. HANNAH WOODD. 443
She then desired to hear the fifty-fourth chapter of Isaiah. At the
fifth verse, she cried out with rapture, “My Maker is my husband, the
Lord of Hosts is his name !” And again, “God called me as a woman
forsaken and grieved in spirit.” After this, she lay seemingly much
fatigued the rest of the evening : her mind seemed wholly conversant.
with heavenly things, but she was too much exhausted for more con-
versation. At a quarter before twelve, the fit again came on ; and she
was in strong convulsions, with some short intermissions, until half past
four, during which space she had in all five fits. In the intervals, her
mind seemed to retain its elevated state. She spoke with great pleasure
of her speedy departure; and dwelt with rapture upon her glorious in-
heritance. “O how happy shall I be,” said she, “ to see you all
there !”
She desired a friend, who sat up with her, to sing the following hymn:
“From all that dwell below the skies,
Let the Creator's praise arise;
Let the Redeemer’s name be sung,
Through every land, by every tongue.
Eternal are thy mercies, Lord,
Eternal truth attends thy word
Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,
Till suns shall rise and set no more.”
She attempted to join herself, but her voice faltered. When this was
finished, and she had again expressed the great joy she felt in the pros-
pect of death, “Come,” said she, “sing me another, sing me this :”
“Hosannah to Jesus on high,
Another has enter'd his rest;
Another escap'd to the sky,
And lodg’d in Emanuel's breast.”
Her friends were too much affected for such a strain as this; there-
fore it was not attempted. The last fit she had on this morning greatly
impaired her strength, and left her in a kind of stupor. Her face grew
very pale, her eyes lost their vivacity, and her change seemed approach-
ing very fast. She lay in this state the whole of the day, and appeared
not to recollect any about her, excepting now and then. By what little
could be made out, she semed very composed and happy, though her
strength was greatly debilitated. She said at one time, “I shall see him
as he is: I shall be for ever near him, and behold his face : my eyes shall
behold him : I shall see him for myself, and not another.” But this she
spoke with great weakness and languor, and seemed on the verge of ex-
periencing the blessings she was speaking of. In the evening she had
another fit, in which she lay about twenty minutes, and continued all
the night partly in a doze, and partly insensible.
Wednesday, she continued in the same state, and had three very
strong fits. Upon listening very attentively to her, she was heard whis-
pering to herself, “Blessed be God 1 blessed be God " She seemed
perfectly calm and happy; but these intervals of sense were diminished
by each fit. About nine in the evening, her son spoke to her, to see if
she knew him : she seemed sensible for a few minutes, called him by
name, and expressed how tenderly she loved him. During the night,
she was almost incessantly convulsed, but no regular fit came on till
444 MEMOIRS OF MRS. WOODD.
about half past two: before breakfast-time, she had five fits. In the In-
terval of the fifth, he addressed her, “My dearest mother, do you know
me?” She replied, “My dear son Basil, I am afraid you will make your-
self ill;” alluding to his having sat up with her. This was the last
time she spoke. From this hour she drew her breath with great difficul-
ty; and between this and eleven at night, she had no fewer than thirty
fits; but in all these, it was evident she felt no pain ; nor was she sensi-
ble, or in the least conscious, that she had been so attacked.
The hour was now approaching, in which her friends were to part
with this valuable woman, whom they had been so long endeared to,
whom they highly respected as a mother, sincerely loved as a friend,
and admired as a real Christian. Still, the assured confidence of her
eternal salvation would not permit them but to rejoice in the approaching
felicity of one, to whom they had been so nearly allied. They reflected
on the goodness of God, in that her valuable life was so long spared,
and that they had for so many years the benefit of her instruction, exam-
ple, and prayers. She expired on the 12th of November, 1784. On
the 19th instant, her dear remains were interred at Richmond. There
rest the yet much valued relics, until a brighter morning clothes them
with additional beauty; then, waking up from their temporary slumber,
they shall be made like unto Christ's glorified body, according to the
working whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.
. The above account is copied from a letter written by her son, the Rev.
Basil Woodd, to the Rev. Dr. Conyers, Rector of St. Paul’s, Deptford,
dated Greenwich, Nov. 25, 1784.
MRS. MARGARET WALKER.
–4
*
Mrs. WALKER was descended from an ancient family in the shire of
Peebles, North Britain. Her father, Mr. James Geddes, an advocate
at the Scotch bar, was the only son of James Geddes of Rachan and
Kirkurd, Esq. and of Catherine, the daughter of Sir James Lockhart,
of Carstairs. He married Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Patrick Grant
Esq. of Elchies, one of the lords of session and justiciary, and a
judge distinguished for knowledge and integrity. The only fruit of
this marriage, besides a short-lived infant, was Margaret, the subject
of this memoir. She was only two years old when her mother died :
her father married again, but, in a few years, was cut off by consump-
tion ; and before the death of his own father. Mr. Geddes was a man
of amiable character and of learning, and left behind him a work on
the composition of the Greek authors.
Miss Geddes was born on the 19th of August, 1737. After being at
boarding-school in Edinburgh, she was brought up chiefly among her
female relations by the mother’s side. Lord Elchies kept an exemplary
house : his eldest daughter had been a singularly pious woman, and
died in great enjoyment of faith and hope. Miss G.'s first serious im-
pressions were formed so early as in her tenth year, under the ministry
of some divines of Edinburgh. Mr. Whitefield’s first visit to that city,
and his occasional labours there afterwards, were made singularly useful
to her ; as, it is remarkable, they also were to her future husband. She
gºon felt the opposition between the friendship of this world and that
ºf God; but, having found the pearl of great price, she was enabled "
to sell all to obtain it. Naturally amiable, diffident of her opinion, and
disposed to yield to the judgment of others, she was yet on this point
a determined character very early ; and, during her whole life, deci-
sion, fervour, and consistency, distinguished her profession of the Gospel.
Miss Geddes occasionally spent some time in the Highlands, where,
thought she often felt the want of public worship, she was happy in the
company, and was reciprocally the great comfort of a most excellent and
pious aunt, to whom she was much attached, the deceased Mrs. Grant,
of Rothiemurchus. Indeed, as she possessed a remarkably cheerful and
social temper, which, notwithstanding all the trials of her past and future
life, never forsook her, she was singularly qualified to enliven others.
From the time that the late Rev. Robert Walker became one of the
ministers of the High Church of Edinburgh, she sat under his valuable
and faithful ministry. With this most respectable and excellent clergy-
man, to whom she was related, * she formed a strong friendship, which
lasted as long as he lived, and which she considered as one of the chief
blessings and privileges of her life. The writer of these pages believes,
that it was in the course of this intimacy that she became first known to
the gentleman of the same name, though no relation, to whom she af-
... By his marriage tº Sir. Robert Dickson's sister, who was her grand-ºunt, Lord Elchies,
wife having been another sister. :

446 MEMOIRS OF
terwards gave her hand; Mr. John Walker, merchant in Edinburgh.
Mr. Walker was far her superior in years, but the worth of his character
was to her the strongest possible recommendation. They were married
on the 29th of October, 1766, and lived together upwards of nineteen
years. He died March 13, 1786, aged 74. His character will long he
remembered, both in the civil and in the religious community of Edin-
burgh, to whose benefit his labours were devoted. In the former depart-
ment, whether in or out of the magistracy, they were abundant and dis-
tinguished by independence: in the latter, every thing he did displayed
a singular combination of fervent zeal and sound judgment.
Mrs. Walker’s married life became soon a life of trial. She thought
she had learned that it was to be through much tribulation she was to
enter into the kingdom; she now found that, to make it so, it was to be in
continued tribulation. Long protracted sickness, with its weary and
dark approaches, “darker every hour,” began to undermine her family;
and at last, death came to ravage it. Her eldest son, a fine boy, was
taken with a very painful, tedious illness, which terminated in his death.
Some of her other children were weakly ; her own health suffered; and
her husband began to decline. His disease became rapid. After his death,
she was for some years threatened with the loss of a daughter; and when
the latter recovered, another daughter was laid on a lingering sick-bed,
from which she never rose; so lingering, that this afflicted parent long
continued to hope for a recovery, but she was at last called to close her
youngest child’s eyes. But, in all these deaths, she had the happiness
of witnessing the departure of the redeemed of the Lord. Severe and
continued were her exercises of mind, but, upon the whole, happy was
the issue. This will appear from part of the following extracts from her
private papers;–papers which, it is needless to say, were never intended
to be published, but which seem too valuable to be entirely lost.
“August 19, 1763. My birth-day. The Lord, in his kindness º
long-suffering, has brought me thus far on in life. I have seen a go
many years go round on this transitory, changing stage. Many things
have passed over my head, that I thank God are never, never to return.
Many trials have I experienced; thanks to God I did experience them,
and that none of them overwhelmed me, nor made me turn back from
God’s way; but, on the contrary, have endeared it to me, and made me
run faster in it. And when my heart has been ready to sink, he has led
me to the Rock that is higher than I, so that I may set up my Ebenezer,
and say, ‘Hitherto the Lord has helped me.” Would to God, these past
years had been spent more to his glory, and less to selfishness I know
not what may be between me and the grave; but shall I not believe that
thou, Lord, wilt be with me ! O leave me not in this valley of tears to
struggle by myself! I cannot go one step without thee; I cannot forego
thy direction " Oh no, my Lord, thy absence is dreadful How distress-
ing is it when thy presence is not felt sensibly, when yet the poor soul
would fain hope thou art not so far away as it apprehends ! But really to
know thee absent, is death ! I cannot bear it, Lord. O come then now,
and lead me and guide me through this frail life, and through the vale
of the shadow of death ! Whether it be dark or light, if thou art with
me, thy rod and thy staff comforting me, I shall be safely landed where
thou art, from whence I shall go no more out, nor fear a veil betwixt thy
blessed face aſſi mine. And now, at this present time, let mine head
MRS. MARGARET WALKER. 447
be lifted up above my enemies that encompass me, that I may bring
sacrifices of joy and thanksgiving unto thy house.
“1765. I look upon it as my duty in some measure, to be in com-
pany. I do not like to hear it said, that religion is monkish ; but I
ought always to carry it with me, and glory in it as my highest honour
to be taken for a Christian; yea though I should be reckoned a fool for
Christ's sake. The temptation to a contrary conduct, I take to be one
great snare of company.
“ 1766. The Lord has called me to change my situation in life, by
marrying an eminent servant of God. May the Lord bless him to me !
May we live together as heirs of the grace of life, and may I be no hin-
derance to one, that used to run fast in the way of God’s command-
ments l?”
How conscientiously she endeavoured to follow out her prayers in her
conduct, appears from the following rules she laid down for the regula-
tion of her devotional exercises and of her time. “Oh Lord God, I
desire thy presence and aid, that I may regulate my heart and life ac-
cording to thy word I have a desire to be formed in a gospel mould,
I find I am subject to indolence, to wandering in spiritual duties, to
frivolousness and insensibility. To fix my first thoughts in the morning
upon the presence of God, would be an antidote against these. Sab-
bath morning to be employed in meditating upon the power and patience
of God in creating and preserving all, but chiefly in redeeming us who
are called to partake his salvation by Jesus Christ. Redemption, then,
and all its consequences, be my companion every Sabbath morning;
rejoicing in it in general, applying it to myself in particular, and hearing
of it all day.—Monday morning. The Church of Christ to be thought
of chiefly, with prayer, confession, petition, and thanksgiving for myself
as a member of the church, and then for the whole body of believers;
ºf their increase and for the accomplishment of the promises.—Tuesday.
ºãrticular friends and their cases to be laid before the Lord, whatever
presses my mind or theirs, whether a spiritual or a temporal matter.—
Wednesday. My husband, children, and servants, all their concerns.—
Thursday. Set apart as much time as possible for personal examina-
tion, humiliation, confession, prayer, and fasting.—Friday. Entreat the
Holy Spirit of God to lead and guide me, and all his people, into all
truth; to bless his ministers and their labours.—Saturday. Return
thanks for the mercies of the week.
“Continue to rise early ; retire immediately; read the Scriptures
with meditation, prayer, praise. •
“Attend to family duties; be moderate in ordering and using all
things, that I may have to give to him that needeth. Make profitable
visits; no idle ones, if possible. How ought a Christian to spend time !
Surely as he wishes to spend eternity, to the glory of God. When in
company, take every occasion to bring in some serious, useful, seasonable
word: be not afraid of men ; nor be frothy and trivial, lest I turn into
ridicule what I mean to recommend, even true religion. Let it not
tend to disputation, which often I have found barren of good, and hurt-
ful to the interests of godliness; and let it not be to set up myself, or
recommend my opinions; but meekly, without being discouraged by op-
position, to ‘hold forth the word of life,” to the gaining of others, and
the glorifying the Lord’s word and way. O how bitter the reflection of

448 MEMOIRS OF .
a contrary conduct l Conclude the day with prayer, and self-recollec-
tion—make conscience of thoughts, words, and actions, as before my
God—walk in charity, love, zeal, and activity, for God and men.
Amen.
“December 4, 1773. I have often purposed to use every mean in
my power for growth in grace, for more near, intimate, and sensible com-
munion with God, and more usefulness to men. For this end, I wish
to redeem time, to wait on the Lord more in private prayer and medita-
tion; realizing his presence, trying every thing before him, that he may
approve or reprove, laying hold on Christ in the promises afresh, believ-
ing my own interests in them.—Another mean is, studying his word,
following the light of it directly every day, and all the day; getting the
flesh more mortified, by not being so sluggish and indulgent to it. I
wish to be more diligent in business, active in family matters, more du-
tiful and affectionate toward my dear husband and children, more atten-
tive and kind to servants, more loving and useful to all the saints, and
more anxious for the souls of others; trying to gain, instruct, and awaken
§ above all, praying continually about these things. Help me, my
God |
“September 26, 1774. It pleased God to bring to our house a dear
faithful servant of his own, an English minister,” who was to preach
frequently here. I was happy, thinking this would quicken and revive
me; but it pleased my Lord to lay me on a sick bed. I adore and bless
his hand ; he sent both outward trial and inward correction : then I said,
O take me not away in anger and he comforted me from his word,
Ezek. xxxvi. 25, ‘From all thine idols will I cleanse thee, a new heart
will I give thee, &c. I said, ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it
unto me as thou hast said l’ I remarked, at this time, the kindness of
God to bring his servant to my house. I would not have chosen sick-
ness while he was with me, but the Lord saw it the right way for nº;
and even for my experiencing the usefulness of my guest, who led tº
to many refreshing views of these promises: ‘I have chosen thee in the
furnace of affliction.” “He shall sit as a refiner of silver,’ &c.
“ 1775. It has pleased God to send of late a severe trial, the sickness
of our dear eldest son. This has much engaged my thoughts, accom-
panied with many plans for his health. All means have failed, and we
have been called to look upon him as a dying child. Mr. W. was first
led to take this view of him; and I, when I found it so, was surprised,
overwhelmed, and ready to sink. A dread of God, a horror at his dis-
pensation, seized me. This led me first earnestly to seek the child’s
life, if the Lord would spare, I would not so abuse mercy ; particularly
to plead his being dedicated to the service of God, which had long been
my highest wish for him in this world. I felt great want of submission,
and a fear lest he would die. I was, through mercy, at length led to
view with delight the government of Christ, as Lord over all ; and to
consider his will as not only sovereign, but good :—here then I found
rest. Seeing him at one time very bad, I resolved to go and put him
into the Lord’s hands, and give up seeking temporal life, having better
things to ask.”
On the 29th of October, 1775, the anniversary of her marriage,
* Mr. Edwards, of Leeds.

MRS. MARGARET WALKER. 449
Mrs. W. was called to part with this child, who was the first fruit of
it, and was an uncommonly pious and promising boy. After his death,
she writes as follows: “ The impression this dear child’s death made on
my mind, is not easily expressed. I had judged that the Lord might
have some use for him in the world. With this view, I had often imi-
tated Hannah, wishing to devote him to the service of God in the minis-
try. I called it a taking him off my hand; but ah! how far was I
from thinking of his dying. Yet, after all, I was astonished how well
both his father and I stood the near approach of his death, and how pa-
tiently the reality of it was submitted to ; though our hearts were
bound up in him exceedingly, and he answered our most sanguine
hopes. We watched him during his last hours in peaceful serenity;
and when the soul fled, we sung over the dear clay his favourite 23d
Psalm.
“I could not have believed we could have parted with our darling,
our beloved child so easily , but we knew who called him from us, and
whither he was gone. Oh how surprised and transported must his
soul have been | While we were singing, and lisping like children, he
was a man in Christ, enjoyed the unfolding of the mysteries which
had engaged and perplexed, but had been wonderfully made out to
his young mind here, and saw and knew the glory and perfection of
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost Blessed, ever blessed be God for this
child, for his talents, engaging disposition, warm affection, and spi-
ritual attainments; for his being enabled to speak about religion as he
did, and for his easy death ! God has thus answered all our expectations
and prayers, to my satisfaction, silencing my unbelief. Praise be to his
name !—When I adopted the words of Hannah, I indeed did not mean
bringing him thus to the Lord ; but I can now rejoice at having been
taken at my word : he appears before Him now, and there abides for
€Wer.
“February 2, 1780. I often and long sought the sanctified use of
that child’s death visibly on myself, and, I hope, in some measure my
prayers were answered. First, I learned not to draw hasty conclusions
respecting what the Lord might intend in temporal affairs, though he
gives liberty to ask about them. Nearness to Him is the answer of
prayer in all cases; and views of his condescension and power, experi-
enced and realized by faith, form genuine, solid, and comfortable com-
munion with God. He will not move in the channels we prescribe, in
what we guess at, and sometimes call impressions from the word : His
ways are wrapt up in mystery, wisdom, and love, and cannot be traced
by any lines we can draw. Secondly, I learned to sit lighter to outward
comforts, to the lives of any, especially of my other children, whom I
saw to be only loans; stars that twinkle and then disappear; that I
was fast hastening to eternity, and should not spend my little inch of
time mourning and looking back, but rather be up and doing, praising
the Lord who condescends to take, as well as give.
“ 1783. ‘ I have waited for thy salvation, O God P said Jacob, on
reviewing past mercies, and looking forward to future ones, for himself
and his family. What does life represent, but our folly, sin, and short
coming, and God’s power, love, and care When I look back, I find I
have endeavoured after some duties, neglected others; but, have found
the constant love and favour of my God. Therefore, I say with confi-
57
450 MEMOIRs of
dence, ‘I have waited for his salvation,” and do wait. Through many
a maze the Lord has led and guided me ; and not one good thing on
his part has failed me of all the promises. Though I dread there has
been much neglect in observing his doings, much feebleness in laying
hold of his power, yet, the Lord has manifested his kindness in bearing
with such a trifler, in carrying away iniquity, and casting it into the
depths of the sea of his love; in meeting me, and giving his presence
in ordinances, frequently making himself known to me in the breaking
of bread. “Lo this is our God, we have waited for him ; He will
save us.”
“ 1784. It has been a long dark night with me, through temptation
and desertion; such exercises as are recorded in Psalm xlii.: “All thy
waves and billows are gone over me,’ &c. I would now say, it is day:
these clouds have broken, and I have seen the Lord in his promises. I
have said, He hath commanded his loving-kindness, commanded it in
temporal deliverances, and in spiritual blessings. He hath holden my
soul in life, amidst many threatened deaths to it: sometimes the enemy
chasing me sore, as a bird that hops from bush to bush, while perplexity
and weakness keep it in a flutter. Through the blessing of God on his
word and ordinances, I was, and am delivered.
“1786. Dear Mr. W. and I began this year, as usual, in recounting
mercies, in confessing sins, and in self-dedication. He was uncom-
monly spiritual. In February, he caught a cold : I saw him failing,
which was often afflicting to me. On the 22d, he attended the com-
munion in a neighbouring church with much composed seriousness of
mind. On the next day, Monday, though worse, he went again to
church : I asked why | He said, it was a day he always kept ;” that
he had been happy at the Lord's table, and had enjoyed more liberty in
spiritual exercises than for some years past. His complaints increasing
every day, he gave at last some hints about dissolution. Yet, we were:
both distressed with a delicacy in not speaking plainly to each other;--
but we had freedom and access to God, who only could help, and were
much comforted by the visits of many clergymen.
“On Saturday the 11th of March, he did some business. After finish-
ing it, he said with energy, ‘The world recedes, it disappears; heaven
opens on my eyes.” He spent a restless, but a praying night, which
ushered in Sabbath, the last day of his natural life: he made me read
the Scriptures, his constant study, and pray for an increase of faith,
and for the cleansing of the blood of sprinkling. In the evening, the
Rev. Dr. Erskine, his attached and prized friend, and from the time of
his sickness his constant visitant, spoke to him of death as a privilege,
and in prayer used these words: ‘O death, where is thy sting 'P On
which, his countenance became animated, and, with his eyes and hands
lifted up to heaven, he exclaimed, ‘Glory to God for ever. Amen.”
When Dr. E. finished, he held out his hand to him, saying, “God
bless you, sir.” They took leave of each other. During the night he
looked to me, and said feebly, ‘You see my situation,--but I cannot
speak;’ then with affectionate energy, thrice he repeated, “Farewell.”
My heart returned it, but I could not answer with my lips. Soon after,
* In remembrance of having suffered shipwreck at a very early period of life, coming with
a cargo of his own from Spain, in the year 1731.
MRS. MARGARET WALKER. 451
he fell low. I then, with fear and strong desire, cried earnestly to my
God, to send an easy release and transition from this world; saying often,
* Into thy hands I commit this spirit:’—perhaps he joined me. About
six o'clock in the morning, in the presence of all his family, he calmly
drew his long last breath. Thus died this eminent servant of God.
He was a useful, active citizen, a zealous member of the Church of Scot-
land. Few have given a greater proof of diligence and fervour in seek-
ing by every means the good of Zion. He devoted his substance and
influence to the Giver of all good. He often took a share in civil matters,
that he might be able to bring good evangelical pastors to the churches
of this city: not one seemed brought without his inflnence for a long
tract of twenty years and upwards. His memory is dear to his friends,
and will remain so in a church which now misses his active spirit.—
Lord, raise up others
“August 1786. Since my husband’s death, I could write little.
At this event I fell down, and was under sore distress, for a load of guilt
and weakness seized me. I had sore assaults from the enemy. After
a tossing night, I rose early, went to my dear husband’s room where he
Hay, shut myself up an hour; took my Bible, turned to Psalm xxxii. I
read, I laid hold, I prayed it over. I got full deliverance in verse 6 :
‘Surely in the floods of great waters, they shall not come nigh unto
thee;’ and gave glory. Thus the Lord suffered me to call upon him
with strong crying and tears, and answered me as he did the Son of
his love, and I was delivered from the paw of the great lion, and was
heard in what I dreaded. This I insert to the praise and glory of the
Captain of salvation. The following Sabbath, being our Communion
Sabbath, I wished to go, but feared I should not be able. In the mor-
ning, however, I felt strengthened by these considerations; that the
Lord was risen, my dear was gone to him ; I had buried the body in
faith and assurance of a blessed resurrection ; I therefore would go to
the Lord’s house, and relieve myself by telling him, as the disciples did
in the case of John. I went to the Lord’s table in his strength, and
found the sweets of his promises, ‘ I will be with thee, and with thy
children, – thy Maker is thy husband, the God of the whole earth shall
he be called.’”—
“I have truly endured a great conflict—through trials from man. I pray
daily for the understanding of their language, for the sanctification of
them, for a true spirit to overcome them, and for opportunity to testify
such a mind—endeavouring to follow the example of my Lord, render-
ing nothing but blessing, knowing that hereunto I am called, to inherit
blessing.”
“How little we know our hearts! How long and slow in trusting
the Lord with all our concerns in this state, through which we pass as
a shadow ! Every new trial brings new difficulties, new fears, new errors,
new guilt. I have been looking too anxiously for deliverance, but be-
In to learn, that ‘support under trials is continual deliverance.’”
“June 1792. For some time heavy clouds hung over this island.
God has in a measure dissipated them. We were threatened with civil
broils; he has averted these, and turned the wheel of his Providence
over those who fomented them. This looked to me a condescending
care over this land. Oh, that men would praise the Lord ' The threat-
ening aspect of foreign commotions, the revolution in France, the
452 MEMOIRS OF
dreadful judgments of God there, and the Scripture prophecies concern-
ing the last days, have much engrossed my thoughts. Whatever be
the issue, I desire to join the church universal in praising God for the .
accomplishment of his word. I have had a confidence in his name,
that this island would be preserved from the general devastation; only
be punished for her own crimes, particularly Sabbath-breaking, and con-
tempt of the Gospel; that he would humble and chastise her, as he has
done, and is still doing. May we bear the rod, and him who appoints
it, lest the sword come to condemn it as a dry tree, that produceth no
fruits of genuine repentance.”
“ 1794. The storm of war still rolls along. The history of no times
seems to record such strange events. Multitudes, multitudes, are hur-
ried into eternity. At home, too, there are alarming appearances. A
general spirit of disaffection prevails to our good and salutary govern-
ment ; the lower classes, dissatisfied, would usurp the dignity of being
highest. But I must not too deeply engage in these matters, lest I
forget my own duties of watchfulness and of submission to the hand
which corrects me, in the continued illness of my youngest daughter,
who is still kept in the furnace, yet, like burnished gold, is only melt-
ed and refined, not destroyed. I desire to be taught to wait upon God,
and keep his way, to watch in all things, not prescribing nor choosing,
but following on to know the Lord, and he will direct my paths ;-he
will lead me both into temporal and spiritual light and strength; yea, he
shall guide continually. So will I abound in praises, Psalm lxxi. 14.”
Not to swell these papers, her reflections upon this trial, similar in its
painful nature to her former trials, are abridged.
“ 1797. A public fast: the church is called every where to prayer,
to lift up her voice with strength, to wrestle with her God that he may
establish and make her a praise in the earth. Come then, O my soul |
be stirred up, and endeavour to stir up others : be earnest, be watchful,
be diligent, be faithful. Seek out the promises, observe the purposes, of
God. Take great care not to err in judgment, not to run before the
opinions of Providence; and see that thou be not behind, lest thou
shouldest not observe when good cometh. Be not soon taken with first
appearances as they are affected by fellow-creatures. See, also, that
thou be not offended at any means the Lord uses. Amidst much cause
of fear, a dawn of hope arises. Missionary societies have been formed
in London and Edinburgh : these have been an example to others in the
kingdom. This looks well for Britain.” f
“ 1800. On the 25th of February, my dear daughter departed this
life, in the assured hope of eternal life. I felt thus :-the dear pri-
soner was released from sorrows; I realized her enlargement with
consolation, and longed to follow her who should have been behind
me. I felt as bereft of my place. Oh to be made more meet for the
inheritance of the saints in light ! I want to be stirred up to live more to
the Lord in heart, in speech, and in conduct. I need increasing faith
and love to the Lord, his people, and his cause on earth, and more active
zeal. Lord, bestow what thou requirest !
“May 9. To-day I again sat down under my Lord’s shadow : how
sweet unto my taste were his words of truth; yea, sweeter than I can
utter | I was enabled to believe for life and for death, that this God was
mine ;-that, as sure as I did eat this bread, and drink this cup, so sure
MRS. MARGARET WALKER. 453
was Christ, with all the blessings of the covenant, mine, in life, and in
death; and so surely shall I see the Lord in glory.”
“ 1802. After a severe illness, I was able, the 11th of September, to
attend the communion. In this ordinance I felt indeed the text exem-
plified to me and many: ‘O how great is thy goodness which thou
hast laid up for them that fear thee, which thou hast wrought for them
that trust in thee before the sons of men ſ” Psalm xxxi. 19. I blessed
God also in his house for the succees of the Gospel at home and abroad.
Many are sending out, and the knowledge of Christ is disseminating in
many dark corners of the globe. The Lord increase these ! Amen.”
These were the last words Mrs. Walker wrote in her Diary. Upon
Wednesday, October 13, 1802, she was seized with the return of a dis-
order which, a few months before, had nearly put a period to her life.
It had often been her prayer, that she might not, in her dying mo–
ments, dishonour the faith she professed; and the Lord was pleased
abundantly to fulfil her request. Alarming symptoms increasing on
the Thursday, she said to one of the family, “My dear, this looks
serious; but I am quite satisfied as to the event. I have nothing to do :
my work is finished. I have no fears, I know in whom I have believed,
and that he is able to keep that which I have committed to him against
that day.” During the night, while suffering severely from violent
vomitings, she often repeated, “My soul, wait thou with patience upon
God; my expectation cometh from him. Trust in him at all times,
ye people ; pour ye out your hearts before him. It is only in broken
petitions I can do so at present.”
During Friday and Saturday she took a more decided view of
approaching dissolution, and calmly spoke to one of her family of
some things to be done after that event, adding, “ These words have
been much upon my mind, “I die, but God shall be with you.’” She
expressed a wish that a clergyman (to whom she had lately complained
of depression) might be informed that she had got the victory; that she
died in the faith ; died rejoicing in that faith she had professed : “Yea,
tell all the ministers and lovers of Jesus, for their encouragement, that
he hath not forsaken me ; that I find the faith of the Gospel is fully
able to support me in this hour of trial. I am conqueror, and more than
conqueror.” In the night, while one was praying by her bed-side for
some relief from intense agony, she called out, “Say, Not my will, but
thine be done.” The twenty-third Psalm being then read to her, begin-
ning at the fourth verse, she particularly laid hold of that verse; “Yea,
though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no
evil, for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff comfort me.” Very
frequently afterwards she repeated, “I fear no evil.”
No pen can do justice to the contrast that was exhibited through the
whole of Lord’s-day, between excruciating agonies, and the triumph of
faith. She often said, “I have fellowship with martyrs;” and looking
with tenderness on her family around her, exclaimed, “Oh may none of
you, in dying, suffer what I now do Oh, dissolution dissolution how
difficult to endure I It is not easy to separate soul and body; but it is
all I have to suffer. It is not the worm that dieth not, nor the fire that
cannot be quenched. These light afflictions, which are but for a mo-
ment, shall work out for me an eternal weight of glory—for me ! for
me! unworthy though I am, an eternal weight of glory for me !” One
454 MEMOIRS OF
saying, “This is Sabbath, the day you have always loved :” “Yes,” she
said, “I have found Sabbaths and ordinances here sweet; but an eter-
nal Sabbath, that is the thing ! Ever with the Lord..! ever, ever with
the Lord l’” These words were much in her mouth. She exhorted
all who came near her, some to seek the knowledge of salvation, as the
one thing needful ; others to continue steadfast unto the end. “Oh,”
said she, “the importance of circumspection and consistency of keep-
ing the garments clean; that, when death comes, there may be nothing
to do but to die P’ To a young friend she said: “I will leave this Scrip-
ture with you, my dear, “Being justified by faith, we have peace with
God, through our Lord Jesus Christ.’ It is that peace which supports
me in this severe suffering. Suffering here is no sign of God’s displea-
sure ; and soon shall sorrow be turned into joy; and pains, and groans,
and griefs, and fears, and death itself shall die.” Afterwards she said ;
“I die with a conscience void of offence toward God and toward men.
The wicked is driven away in his wickedness, but the righteous hath
hope in his death ;” and again emphatically, “ hath hope in his death.
—Mark the perfect, and behold the upright ! for their latter end is peace.
—Not,” aded she, “that I am perfect: but Jesus is, and I am complete
in him.” Observing some of her family looking earnestly at her, she
asked, “Is there any thing frightful about me'! Bring me my dressing-
glass.” Upon her request being evaded, she said, “Yes, do bring it
me; I wish to see if there is any thing unpleasant about me, and if I
have yet much to suffer.” Upon looking at herself, she said, “Well, I
am happy, for your sakes, to see I am not ghastly ; but I have much to
endure. The traces of death are not yet strong enough ; but I have
nothing to fear. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I fear no evil—it is no substance, only a shadow ; thy rod and
thy staff comfort me. Death, do thine office ; thy sting is taken out.
Sin is the sting of death. I shall see the Lord ; I shall be for ever with
the Lord. I cannot dwell with devils ; I have mothing in common
with them; I can have no fellowship with devils.”
She desired the beginning of the fourteenth of John to be read to her,
“Let not your heart be troubled, in my Father's house are many man-
sions.” She frequently repeated the Lord’s words, “Peace I leave with
you ; my peace I give unto you.” “It is the Lord’s peace,” said she,
often has he given me this peace in life, and now in death. Tell every
body I die in peace with God, and in peace with all men.” In the most
impressive manner she blessed her family; and desiring to see her two
infant grand-children, kissed them, and prayed that her God in covenant
might be their God. “My dears,” said she to their parents and her own
two daughters, “I can part with you all ; I can part with all the world;
with every thing but Jesus. Christ is my all in all. Oh let me meet
you all at last, and so shall we be ever, ever with the Lord ſ” To one
who came in she said, “This is Jordan, but he shall not overflow his
banks. My Jesus meets me in the flood, and will bring me safely
through. This is the trial of faith, but it will stand the trial ; I shall
come forth as refined gold. I am the happiest of women! Such promises
such prospects such a God Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, one God,
my God, I adore thee l’” Her pain (from inflammation of the bowels)
still increasing, she often prayed, “Lord Jesus, dismiss my spirit ! My
dear friends, do not retard me with your prayers; give me up. But oh!
MRS. MARGARET WALKER. 455
my Lord, give me patience, give me patience now, now ! “He that shall
come, will come’—my dear Betsey’s dying words. Why should I not
suffer ‘A hope so much divine, may trials well endure.’ ‘Oh, the
pain, the bliss of dying !” During the night, she exclaimed suddenly,
“Can I have mistaken my Lord 4 The enemy throws his darts at me;
he tempts me to distrust. But no,” said she, recovering herself, “he is
a chained enemy. I stand upon sure ground ; I am founded on the
Rock of ages.” Through pain and weakness, she was less able to speak
on Monday, yet, at intervals, expressed the same firm confidence ; and,
by broken sentences, her mind seemed to dwell much on the sufferings
and death of the Lord. A clergyman praying that she might fear no
evil in the dark valley, she exclaimed, “None, I fear none !” To another
she used the same expressions; adding, “Though it is a long valley;”
and then, “Farewell ! we shall meet before the throne.” About six
o'clock on Monday evening, she said to one of her family, “My conflict
is over; I think it is near now ;” and then, with great emphasis, “My
God my portion P’ The sixty-sixth hymn of Rippon’s collection being
read, she particularly noticed and adopted the fourth verse :
He by himself hath sworn ;
I on his oath depend :
I shall, on eagles’ wings upborne,
To heaven ascend.
I shall behold his face ;
I shall his power adore;
And sing the wonders of his grace
For evermore
Soon after this, she fell low, and lay for five or six hours, seemingly
breathing her last; after which, suddenly opening her eyes, she dis-
tinctly said, “No fears 1 no darkness!” These were her last words: she
again sunk into insensibility, and at twelve o'clock on Tuesday, she fell
asleep, Oct. 19, 1802, aged sixty-five.
In contemplating a religious character, it is pleasing to observe the
effect which the knowledge of the Gospel produces upon those amiable
qualities which are merely natural. That such qualities in man towards
man have survived his fall from his Maker, is evident. And though the
wrongs which fill the earth prove what every heart contains, and what
the habits of sin can render any human being capable of; yet, there are
not only restraints, but counterparts also, by which God has made gra-
cious and wise provision for carrying on Society. And they who fear
him, have a mixture of pleasing and melancholy exercise in being thank-
ful for this state of things, and sighing at the same time over those
around them, particularly over their friends often, when they see, in the
same breast, benevolent and engaging tempers foully associated with
ignorance of, and rebellion against, the Giver of all good. Of such an
association it may truly be said, that from the beginning it was not so.
And now, when a heart is again turned to God, those amiable disposi-
tions which were implanted by him, and have remained the fragments
and witnesses of his image, show symptoms, harmonizing with the
change; they manifest an acknowledgment of him which marks their
Divine origin; they seem restored to their true place ; and, in his service
they receive a motive, direction, and lustre, unknown to them before
456 MEMOIRS OF
Zealous in conferring present good, comparatively fervent in promoting
eternal good, unmoved by opposition, unambitious of fame, they appear
an emanation from the benevolence of him who is kind to the unthank-
ful, and fulfil their purposes with a wisdom, independence, and strength,
which evince as noble and important a distinction between their former
and their present nature, as that between machinery and life. These re-
marks will, perhaps, be forgiven when illustrated by the character of the
amiable person whose history we have had under our view.
Judging herself, she judged not others: denying herself, she sought
their good with a degree of disinterestedness, such as was never learn-
ed but in the school of grace. Her activity was equal to her love,
and often endangered her health. Yet, it was without ostentation, and
aimed at usefulness, not distinction. These were humble virtues, but,
at the Saviour’s feet, she had heard his words, and humility to her was
the summit of ambition. Her heart, naturally affectionate, was render-
ed more so by the influence of the Gospel, and her friends knew well
how dear to her was the temporal and eternal welfare of each of them ;
how prompt and unwearied were her services, how ready in exerting
them in her own privations. Indeed, the preferring others to herself,
from being a principle, seemed at last with her to have become a habit.
Disciplining her own mind very constantly, exercised with severe trials,
and enabled to endure chastening as a filial privilege, she attained to
much of that subjection to the Father of spirits, and that life arising out
of it, which are described as bringing forth the peaceable fruits of right-
eousness. Her naturally social temper has been already taken notice
of. She was preserved from its attendant snares; and was, at the same
time, a striking proof how great is the mistake, that religion necessarily
destroys cheerfulness. Her cheerfulness not only remained with, but
seemed brightened and improved by her religion, and during all her life
was a distinguishing ornament of her Christian profession. In a circle
of friends, she was in her element; but was particularly so when it was
a religious circle ; and has often been heard to declare, after such occa-
sions, how much happiness she had enjoyed in them. A character thus
disinterested and thus social, could not be without public spirit; and
this disposition was not weakened by her connexion with her public-
spirited husband. But her principles, like his, were very different from
some flimsy theories of recent times, which melting down all connexions
into one unmeaning mass of affected and nominal brotherhood, would
destroy all attachments, and undermine all exertions. A Samaritan of
this modern stamp, speculating upon general woes, and dreaming about re-
lieving them all, would have neglected the sufferer before his eyes, and fol-
lowed the priest and the Levite upon the other side. To the important
question, “How readest thou !” this disciple could answer in a different
manner. Next to her family and her friends, she interested herself in
those whom, in the sense of that instructive parable, she found neigh-
bours. For the needy, the young, and the ignorant, her purse, her
exertions, her instructions, were ever ready. She constantly regretted
she could do so little, and took a particular pleasure in bringing forward
young people to the notice of those who could advance them. The in-
terests of the Church of God were her interests: she was unweariedly
zealous to have teachers sent to, and continued in, some parts of Scot-
land in which she had spent former days, and took a warm concern
MRS. MARGARET WALKER. 457
in the late missionary exertions. Her mind was deeply impressed with
public affairs, as appears a little by some of the extracts which have
been given. Strong was her love for her country: her daily prayers were
offered up for it, and for her “dear king;” a phrase, of which she got
into a constant use, after the commencement of the convulsions on the
Continent. Although she minded not high things, but condescended
to all of the lowest estate, she knew her own station, and was no con-
founder of distinctions in society. She was a member of the Church of
Scotland from a choice which was not merely the result of education,
but of study: difference of opinion, however, on some points, was not
able to stop her ardent flow of affection to all who in every place called
on the name of her Lord and theirs. Her family conduct was most
animated and exemplary; never was there a more loving mother; never
a more dutiful wife; never a more kind mistress. To chasten a child, in
her early married life, was also to weep with it: to chide a servant, was
to give also the most friendly advice, followed afterwards by a petition
for the offender in her prayers. The charge she took of both the souls
and bodies of herdomestics was not only conscientious and merciful, but
affectionate : they felt toward her as children: and where she now is,
there are, by the blessing of God, some who rejoice that they were ever
under her roof. -
What was this person 4 She was a Christian. To embalm such a
character, is not to idolize it, but is rather to point to that wonder-work-
ing principle by which a fallen creature loaded with failings and imper-
fections, and often mourning under sins, could be advanced so many
degrees towards the angelic order. “The grace of God that bringeth sal-
vation,” is alone able to effect such miracles, redeeming from iniquity,
and purifying unto himself a peculiar people zealous of good works.
58
M. R. S. C A M P B E L L,
OF CLATHICK.
–-ºff
THE lady who is the subject of the present imperfect sketch, was the
only daughter of Lawrence Colquhoun, Esq. of Killermont, a son of the
ancient family of Garscadden; and of Mrs. Elizabeth Glamy, only
daughter of a respectable citizen of Glasgow. She was born in the
year 1736, and was educated by her father, who was an episcopalian, in
the tenets of the church of England. Before she attained the age of
nineteen, Miss Colquhoun became the wife of John Campbell, Esq. of
Clathick, Perthshire, and late Lord Provost of Glasgow, to whom she
bore five children.
Mrs. Campbell was piously educated, and was exemplary in early
youth. Though brought up in the episcopal persuasion, she became a
member of the Church of Scotland ; either because she found the pure
gospel preached by ministers of that communion in her vicinity, or be-
cause her mature judgment preferred the presbyterian form of worship
and mode of Church-government. But she never allowed herself in
bigoted, illiberal aspersions on dissenters of any kind; highly esteeming
those who distinguished themselves by zeal for the gospel, and justified
it by the circumspection and purity of their deportment.
A spirit of genuine, evangelical, and vital piety, animated and govern-
ed her whole conduct. This constrained her to a regular, conscientious,
and devout attendance on the public ordinances of religion, while her
health in any degree permitted, and secured a respectful attention to all
its ministers of her acquaintance, whom she knew to be worthy of their
sacred calling. It made her constant, punctual, and exemplary in the
stated devotional services of the family; disposed her gladly, and with
eagerness, to seize opportunities of private prayer with ministers and others
whom she esteemed, more particularly during the time of her confinement
and distress; and engaged her indissolubly, and with high degrees of
complacency and delight, to all the spiritual exercises of the closet. It
united her soul to all of every denomination who appeared to bear the
image of Jesus Christ, in proportion to its visible fulness and beauty.
While inspiring lively sentiments of gratitude for the profusion of
worldly enjoyments which a benignant Providence placed all around her,
it effectually and for ever broke their enchantment, purified her heart,
and firmly settled all her affections on the things that are above, as her
treasure, portion, and rest. Hence she was used to say, even in the best
days of health, with an air of genuine mortification and heavenliness of
mind, when any one took notice of the rural charms of Killermont, her
beautiful paternal estate on the banks of Kelvin, “Yes; but what are
all these things to us! They cannot be, they are not our portion.”
Hence, too, she was eminently “ready to distribute, willing to commu-
nicate” to every benevolent institution and useful purpose; particularly
to those of the poor, whom, from her own observation or the testimony
of others, she believed to belong to the household of faith.
MRS. CAMPBELL. 459
It may be instructive and pleasant to speak of her benevolence more
fully. Her charities were not confined to her own neighbourhood, or
to any particular sect, but were extensive as her means; and when pre-
ference was given, it was to the religious in distress. To the sick around
her, she administered consolation and relief, both temporal and spiritual.
If the aged were in sickness, her first care was to see them furnished
with clothes suited to their situation ; and after their outward comforts
were supplied, she forgot not the state of their souls. Whatever books
were necessary, she cheerfully gave ; and where any appearances of a
religious tendency manifested themselves, they were nourished and fos-
tered by her care. Mrs. Campbell was not a blind bestower of charities:
when in health she visited the objects of them. During the many years
in which she was confined to her chair, she was always easy of access;
and she commonly examined with her own eyes and hands, the neces-
saries which she had ordered to be distributed to the poor on her own
estate, and in the neighbourhood. Stays, flannel gowns, &c. as the sea-
son required, were regularly made, under her direction, by the females of
her family, for the old and young who partook of her bounty. She never
failed to examine into the state of their clothes and persons. The care-
ful and cleanly she rewarded and encouraged, and the negligent and
slovenly she admonished and reprimanded. But it was not, as already
observed, her poor neighbours or tenantry alone, who partook of her
bounty. The proprietors of Killermont were well known to be the never-
failing friends of the pious and virtuous in distress; for her excellent
husband went hand in hand with her in her works of beneficence. The
applications from strangers in such circumstances, were, of course, nu-
merous, and were never made in vain.
Mrs. Campbell was a zealous friend to the propagation of the Gos-
pel. She encouraged it in these kingdoms, by subscribing liberally to-
wards the distribution of religious books, and especially of the Holy
Scriptures. Every thing, too, which could contribute to the dissemina-
tion of religion in foreign climes met with her warmest support; and
nothing seemed to afford her such sincere delight, as the extension of
those sacred truths which had supported and consoled her in all the
pains and agonies of this mortal life.
In her disposition and manners, this excellent lady was cheerful and
amiable. She could adapther conversation to the highest and to the mean-
est capacity; and even these who did not feel the same influences of the
Divine Spirit, were often induced by her strong reasoning powers, and by
her winning conduct, if they did not become proselytes to her opinions, at
least to become instrumental in promoting the grand system of Divine
truth and benevolence. Of this we may give the following instance.
To the establishment of a chapel in Perthshire, in which the county
of Clathick is situated, Mrs. Campbell was a liberal contributor. To
promote this undertaking, she applied to a gentleman who did not pro-
fess to entertain any principles of religion. The application was made
in writing, and she was heard to observe when she gave the card out
of her hand — that she should leave the event to the Lord, and that
it would give her pleasure to think she had been instrumental in
making even a free-thinker subscribe for the erection of a place where
the gospel of Christ was to be preached. The application was success-
ful. She expressed uncommon satisfaction at the circumstance; and
460 MEMOIRS OF
with a smile of benignity said, “Who knows but at the hour of death
he will look back and express his happiness, that he did not refuse to
honour the name of Christ, when in his power P’
It would be doing injustice to the character of her lovely daughter,
Mrs. Hosier, now deceased, not to mention, that through her means
Mrs. Campbell became a large and regular contributor to the ease and
comfort of a worthy and respectable clergyman of the Church of En-
gland. Mrs. Hosier happened to visit this gentleman's church ; she
was pleased with his doctrine, and equally so with the economy of his
family, which though simple, and even exhibiting marks of poverty, was
neat and orderly. She inquired into his situation, and learned that he had
a very narrow income. She communicated the circumstance to her
father and mother; and by their benevolence, joined to that of some
other branches of their family, the latter days of the good clergyman’s
life rolled on in comparative ease. To the same clergyman, she regular-
ly sent at Christmas several dozen of Bibles, to be distributed among
his poor hearers.
But nothing proves more convincingly the power of religion on Mrs.
Campbell, then her deepself-denial and humility in a course of close walk-
ing with God; and her habitual serenity, tranquillity, and cheerfulness, if
not triumph, in near views of death, continually and long presented to her
mind; though she was sometimes assaulted by doubts and fears, arising
from enlarged views of the evil of sin, and a penetrating sense of per-
sonal unworthiness, on the one hand, and the remains of unbelief on
the other.
By very violent rheumatic complaints she was deprived of the use of
her back, and of one of her sides; and for the last six years of her
life she lost the use of her limbs also. Under these afflictions, however,
her patience, her complacence, her happiness in contemplating that of
others, and, while she herself was enduring bodily anguish, the delight
which she felt in relieving the wants and distresses of her fellow-crea-
tures, never abated. The little rest which, during the severity of her
trouble, she received, was towards the hours of three or four in the mor-
ning. Her posture, which even during the moments of repose, was
obliged to be almost erect, was often attended with most excruciating
pain. Though she endured the greatest agony while the servants plac-
ed her in her chair, which was visible in violent perspiration on her
face, she would, when wheeled into her drawing-room to meet some
young friends who frequently called to see her, preserve such serenity.
and cheerfulness, as gave her face the appearance rather of an inhabitant
of the other world. In her desire to impress favourable notions of
religion on her young friends, she forgot her own sufferings; and lest
they should suppose that religion produced in her the effects of morose-
ness, she preserved an aspect of calm serenity, which the power of grace
over her heart could alone communicate. Her conduct, in this respect,
was such as to command the wonder and admiration of all. When
asked, why she endeavoured to preserve such composure, and even
cheerfulness, under such an accumulation of bodily distress, especially
in the presence of the young 2 she said, “That she thought the best way
in which she could recommend their Saviour to her young friends, was
to show them that his religion was not of a gloomy cast; that experience
of the truth of it, and of the blessings which it held out, was calculated
MRS. CAMPBELL. 461
to support us under the heaviest earthly trials.” When in the com-
pany of her Christian acquaintance, such was the modesty and diffi-
dence of Mrs. Campbell, that she was more frequently a silent hearer,
than an active partner in the discourse.
Let it not, however be supposed that Mrs. C. was a silent Christian.
She took daily opportunities of recommending Christ to all about her,
and, in the tenor of her life, proved by her own conduct the truths she
spoke. She was not one of those talkers about religion, who have
Christ continually in their mouths, but want him in their hearts; but
one who preached him in her works, and who showed forth the truth
of his religion in every act of her life. During one particular period
of her disorder, she was seldom heard to utter any thing but the follow-
ing lines:
“Oh, for a heart to pray,
To pray and never cease;
Never to murmur at thy stay,
Nor wish my sufferings less ["
With an unruffled meekness and profound submission, resigning her-
self to her all-wise Father, to her compassionate Redeemer, “strength-
ened with all might, according to his glorious power, unto all patience
and long-suffering, with joyfulness,” she possessed her soul to the last.
As her departure approached, she became more spiritual in her affections,
and more detached from the world. At length, though she had suffered
long and severely, she was liberated from her pains, without feeling the
common convulsions and struggles of dissolving nature. She died at
Killermont, near Glasgow, December 30, 1799, in the sixty-fourth year
of her age.
Mrs. Campbell, of Clathick, may truly be said to have been one of
the brightest ornaments of her sex. Very few in our age and country,
especially of her rank and fortune, have exhibited such a pattern of ex-
cellence as she exhibited. Happy will it be for us, if we “be followers
of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises | These
are they who have come out of great tribulation, and have washed
their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore
are they before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his
temple; and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them.
They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; neither shall the
sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst
of the throne shall feed them; and shall lead them to living fountains
of waters; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes 1’’
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM.
THE subject of this Memoir was descended from a respectable family
in the west of Scotland. Shé was the daughter of John Stewart Haw-
thorn, Esq. of Phisgil, in Galloway, and was born on the 27th Feb.
1743. From infancy, she was instructed in the truths and obligations
of religion; and in early life was brought under religious impressions,
which appear to have been gradually deepened and improved, till she
cordially yielded all her powers to the governing influence of the truth.
Her education was conducted at home. The earliest papers of her
writings are dated in 1760 : they contain only the subjects of the lec-
tures and sermons which she heard at church. Some time after this, she
began to keep a common-place book, which is chiefly occupied with
remarkable facts and anecdotes, extracted from ecclesiastical historians.
The first part of her diary is dated in 1765 or 6; and the manner in
which it is written, furnishes abundant evidence that before this period
she had devoted herself with earnestness to the cultivation of personal
religion, and that she felt it to be of all things the most important, to
obtain evidence of an interest in her Redeemer. In the close of the year
1766, she came to Edinburgh, where she remained till the autumn of the
following year. During this period, the one object of her pursuit appears
to have been, the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. She sought after
religious instruction with the earnestness and constancy of a student de-
voted to the acquisition of the knowledge necessary for his chosen pro-
fession; and resorted to the ordinances of religion with the avidity of
the votaries of pleasure in the pursuit of fashionable amusements. Dur-
ing her stay in Edinburgh, scarcely a day in the week passed in which
she did not attend the public ordinances of religion. Her papers at
this period, consisting chiefly of an account of the sermons she heard,
place the state of her mind in an interesting light. They every where
manifest a sacred veneration for the word of God, a deep and often op-
pressive sense of sin, an earnest longing for the consolations of the Gos-
pel, and a grateful admiration of the love of God in Christ. It may be
proper to preface these, and the other extracts, with remarking, that as
the writer was not a literary character, and had manifestly no expecta-
tion that her papers would meet any other eye than her own, she
expresses herself in the simplest manner, and often writes in a very un-
finished and careless style. We have, however, used no other freedom
than that of sometimes changing an obsolete for a more modern expres-
sion, and occasionally transposing or inserting a word or two, in order to
improve the form of a sentence. This liberty has been but seldom used,
and has never been suffered to affect, in the least degree, the meaning
or sentiments of the writer.
“Wed. Dec. 17, 1766. Mr. Plenderleith preached from Rom. xv.
4, ‘Whatsoever things were written aforetime, were written for our
learning; that we, through patience and comfort of the Scriptures, might
have hope.” He earnestly exhorted us to study the Scriptures, to be often
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 463
comparing one passage with another, and to look up to God in prayer
to reveal his word to us. He spoke much of the vanity of all other
learning in comparison of the learning to be found in the word of God.
He entreated young people to make a duty of reading their Bibles: it
could never be a detriment to any of their other studies; and nothing
could equal the comfort to be found in a well-spent life. Alas ! this
went with pain to my heart, when I considered how ill I had spent my
youth-He made a pretty remark, namely, that poor people, who had
no other learning than what their Bibles gave them, would often be
able to explain a difficult part of holy writ in a clearer way than those
who had read much controversy, and looked on themselves as men of
learning. It was nothing less than the Spirit of God that taught them.
—He observed, that when we read the word of God, we ought to think
what part of it belongs to ourselves, and to consider it as God’s message
to us. He said, there were three great blessings to be drawn from the
Scriptures; patience, comfort, and hope. My glorious Lord God, I
bless thee for permitting me to hear thy servant this night deliver thy
message ; it was most edifying to me, as every thing that comes from
thee is. O enable me to meditate on what I heard, and to put it in
practice Thou art worthy of all praise in heaven and in earth, and I
hope wilt permit the most undeserving of thy creatures to join, ere long,
the innumerable company above, to praise Him who is my soul’s delight,
* who was dead and is alive again, and lives for evermore.”
“Jan. 25,1767. In the afternoon, Mr. Webster preached, for the
first time after the death of his son, who had been drowned in Dud-
dingston Loch. The words of his text were, ‘It is the Lord ; let him do
what seemeth him good,’ 1 Sam. iii. 18. He had a most beautiful sermon
on resignation to the will of God. He said, that it was one of the most
reasonable and becoming duties; but, at the same time, exceeding diffi-
cult to attain. He observed how easy it was to give in to God’s will
when it agreed with our own; but, on the contrary, how difficult when
it crossed what we thought for our advantage. He said, that it had
pleased God to take his wife from him a short time ago; and just after
that affliction, to take his son, a promising and dutiful child, who had
never given him occasion to be angry with him ; but that the Lord had
made the words of his text comfortable and refreshing. He thanked his
dear friends who had sympathized with him in his distresses. Many,
I suppose, had been earnest with God on his behalf. When he made
mention of God’s giving him comfort, I thought, what a blessed thing
it is to meet with our dear Lord in affliction 1 O to be afflicted, if it would
bring me nearer to thee, my God . I should eount it my greatest
happiness.
“ Lord’s-day, April 26, 1767. Mr. Scott preached the action
sermon from 1 Cor. i. 23, 24. I was obliged to stand almost all the
forenoon among the crowd in the area. This was a great humiliation
to me; but I hope it was the means of some good, for it made me reflect
on the infinite goodness of my God, that He who is ‘King of kings, and
Lord of lords,” should regard such a poor despised worm, whom none of
my fellow-creatures would vouchsafe a seat to. Yet, my God was
pleased to permit me to sit down at his table ; and not only this, but I
desire to trust in the blessed Jesus, that I shall, ere long, sit down at that
glorious table above, which shall never be removed.”
464 - MEMOIRS OF
From many passages in her papers, it appears that, during her stay
in Edinburgh, while she lived under a conviction that the salvation of
her soul was the one thing needful, her mind was often much oppressed
with a sense of her sinfulness, and with disquieting apprehensions with
respect to her state. Her prayers are chiefly offered up for the gifts of
repentance and remission of sins; and yet she manifests a humility, a
faith, a tenderness of desire after the enjoyment of God, which were
doubtless the effects of Divine grace. ' tº
She appears to have left Edinburgh, and returned to Galloway in the
month of September. Here her time was necessarily spent in a different
manner, yet perhaps not less profitably ; as, in the want of public
ordinances, she addressed herself with great assiduity to the secret
exercises of religion. From this period, her diary assumes a different
character. It now relates chiefly to her personal experience, the man-
ner in which she passed her time, and the various actings of her heart.
The following extracts from papers written between the years 1767 and
1776, (when she removed from the west of Scotland,) will be read with
pleasure by those who wish to notice the simple expressions of pure and
unaffected piety. Though she enjoyed the benefit of family worship in
her father’s house, it was her custom, morning and evening, to read in
secret two chapters of the Bible, one in the Old Testament, and another
in the New. She usually writes an abstract of their contents, and often
adds observations. The first of the following extracts affords a specimen
of the manner in which she improved her reading : most of the others
relate to the exercises of her soul.
“Friday, 27th November, 1767.—Read the 21st chapter of 1 Chron.
O my soul, how much matter for meditation is there in this chapter I
1. Is it not worthy of notice, that Joab forbade David to number the
people º Though David was a good man, and he a wicked man, yet,
he was afraid to engage in such an act of rebellion. No doubt, at that
time, David was under the hidings of God’s face, and Satan took the
opportunity of tempting him, and easily succeeded ; for, alas ! what are
the best when left, but for a moment, to themselves | But the king's
word prevailed ; Joab’s convictions soon wore off, and he went out and
numbered the people. Let this be a warning to thee, my soul, to heark-
en to the Spirit of God when he speaks by thy conscience; and let
not either the threats or the smiles of thy superiors make thee swerve
from thy duty. How much happier would it have been for Joab, had he
persisted in his first way of thinking, though it had been at the expense of
his life 2. Observe God’s condescension in sending the prophet Gad to
give David the choice of three judgments. Mightest thou not have cut
him off, and all Israel with him, in a moment, without violating thy jus-
tice " But thy mercy is great in the midst of deserved wrath. There-
fore, O my God I am I not consumed. 3. Though this child of God had
been guilty of a great offence, yet, since his God was pleased to spare
him, and put it in his choice to be punished by the Lord or by his fellow-
creatures, he chooses to fall into the hands of his tender-hearted God
and Father. How sensible was David, by this time, of his fault O God,
enable me to be deeply humbled on account of siń, and let the great-
ness of thy mercy lead me to repentance. And may I be enabled to imi-
tate thy servant David, who did not choose to serve thee with that which
cost him nothing. As he insisted on paying money for the place where
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 465
he built the altar, so may I be in earnest to part with my beloved sins—
self-love, pride, and all carnal indulgences. Again, may I not observe
the infinite mercy of God to his servant David, in sparing him while he
cut off so many of the people ! In this very act, is not the infinite wis-
dom of God, and his unsearchable way of dealing, plainly shown Who
can limit the Almighty 'ſ Who can stay his hand, or say unto him,
what dost thou ! When I consider the wickedness of my past life, have
I not infinite reason to bless and adore thee, that I am still the object of
thy sparing mercy 'ſ O that I may be enabled to imitate thy servant
in going to worship thee in the place, way, and manner, that thou re-
quirest Grant me thy Holy Spirit to direct me so to do.”
“December 25.-It being Christmas, I endeavoured to set the day
apart for worshipping God, and humbling myself before the majesty of
heaven. What unspeakable reason have I to love and fear thee, my
God and King, that thou hast spared my life to another returning season
of this kind This is my one, my ceaseless prayer, ‘Only Jesus, only
Jesus, only Jesus, would I know; and Jesus crucified.” In the strength
of thee, my God, I desire this night to be renewed in the spirit of my
mind, and to be wholly devoted to thee. O let my broken vows be re-
newed, and be made strong and firm in the Lord Jesus. Give me grace
to be ever in a holy, watchful frame, and to loathe those evils which I
have formerly practised. Accept of these two mites that I humbly offer
thee this night; my poor unworthy soul and body. I truly believe there
is nothing in me worthy of thy regard; but, O dear Lord ' as I am the
workmanship of thy hands, do thou create me anew in Christ Jesus, the
high priest of my profession, and my glorious atoning sacrifice. Glori-
ous Lord and King, grant that, before another return of this blessed soul-
refreshing season, I may have a happy change wrought in my soul, and
the evidences of eternal life granted me. O that I may have passed
from death to life eternal and unchangeable, and be partaker of those
joys of which, at present, I am ignorant Far be it from me to direct
thee, thou holy One of Israel ! Do with me what seemeth thee meet !
Only let me be thine, and be thou my God and portion for éver. While
I live, may it be to praise thee! and when I die, may it be to glorify and
enjoy thee!”
“Friday, March 11, 1768.—Glory to God, I have a glorious high-
priest, even Jesus, the Son of God; and I trust that he, out of his abun-
dant fulness, will supply all my wants, and perfect that which concerneth
me. O, dearest Lord Jesus, my dependence is wholly on thee. Keep
me through this day from every thing that is evil; and at its close, may
I have reason to bless thee, my God and Lord. Breathe, thou Divine
Spirit, upon my soul; come, and do not tarry. “I pant to feel thy sway,
and only thee obey.” In the evening, I went and saw W. H., who ap-
pears to be dying. I conversed with him a while, and pressed upon
him to plead with God in the name of Christ, since it was only for his
blessed sake he would be accepted. I then prayed, and found, I think,
some liberty in praying for him.”
“Monday, April 4.—Saw the goodness of God great towards me, in
preventing me from falling into temptations, that I was just going to
yield to. Thy mercy, my God, is infinite; it is boundlessly great P*
“Tuesday.—This day, I felt more then ordinary pain on account of
sin; I endeavoured to mourn before the Lord, and found it a sweet exer-
59
466 g MEMOIRS OF
cise to pour out my soul to the God of my salvation. I met with different
things, both in the conduct of the servants and in that of others, to afflict
me; but I hope God meant it for his glory and my soul’s good.”
“Friday, July 25.—This day, alas ! has been spent in a very unwor-
thy way. I have been sorely buffeted by Satan and my vile corruptions.
Wandering, carnal thoughts have prevailed exceedingly against me.
I bless God, I met with no interruptions in duty from the world, for I
rose between five and six; and after having committed myself to God,
I went to the sea-shore, where I stayed all day till night. My privileges
are high : Lord, enable me to improve them to thy glory. Praise and
glory be to thee, that I am still the object of thy sparing mercy, and am
not consumed in the midst of my wickedness. Get thyself glory in con-
verting my soul. Friend of sinners, let me find my help, my all, in thee.
Let the exercises of this day redound to thy glory, and bring forth fruit
acceptable to thee. Destroy selfishness and pride, and every evil that
thou knowest to prevail against me. Mortify all my vile affections, for
thy blessed Son’s sake. This day, I had much to remark of the Lord’s
wonderful way of dealing with me.”
“Friday, January 20, 1769.-Rose about six, and endeavoured to
spend the morning to God in private. I then went about duty with my
sisters. I afterwards went about some temporal duties, and then retired
to read and pray. This day I desired to devote wholly to God, and do
nothing in temporal duties but works of necessity and mercy. O that
thy presence, Lord God, may be with me, and that I may get a proof of
thy love this day, such as I never yet have had l Be a present God, for
Christ’s sake, both in public and private ; and let my wants be all sup-
plied out of thine infinite fulness. Thou art my portion, O Lord! I have
said that I would keep thy words. O pardon broken vows and resolu-
tions, and be a present help in time of need.—This day being over, I
have reason to bless the Lord for the opportunity. I endeavoured to give
myself away to God by a personal written covenant; which I desire to
hope will be for God’s glory, as it is wholly on the dear Lord Jesus I
rely, and in his strength I desire to trust. At night, I felt not that Chris-
tian frame I could have wished, and gave too much way to trifling
discourse, which I found fault with myself for.”
“Wednesday, February 22.—[After noticing the manner in which
this day was spent.]—At night, had a long argument with my sisters
concerning past actions of folly; which discourse, I hope, was not offen-
sive to God, as I was endeavouring to expose vice, and lay some duties
before them. O my God, while I speak to others, may thy Holy Spirit
breathe upon my poor dead soul, and quicken me, that I may live to
glorify thee!”
“Tuesday, March 7.—[After mentioning the good news of one of her
brothers’ having got the situation he wished for.]—“O my God, bless
my brothers; and be ever praised for all the goodness thou hast made to
pass before them I Remember thy unworthy creature that is before thee.
Save me from all low thoughted care, and plant thy love and fear in
my heart. After hearing this good news, I endeavoured to go about
duty : and desired with God’s assisting grace, to set the ensuing day
apart for thanksgiving, and also to mourn before God on account of
my sins.” &
What a contrast does such a life of watchfulness and prayer as is ex-
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 467
emplified in the preceding extracts, form to the life of many young ladies
in affluent circumstances, whose time and thoughts are incessantly em-
ployed in acquiring trifling accomplishments, and in pursuing and an-
ticipating scenes of vain amusement; whose domestic hours are wasted
in unprofitable conversation and permicious reading, and whose busiest
occupations are still subservient to the gratification of vanity and the
love of show ! But if there be a God who demands our supreme love,
and an eternity which claims our constant regard, who can hesitate in
deciding which manner of life is most consistent with our obligations,
and most subservient to the great ends of our existence 4 May we not
further ask, whether the example presented in these extracts does not
afford a serious admonition to many young persons who lay claim to a
religious character, yet satisfy themselves with a merely occasional and
desultory attention to devotional exercises, or, at best, with very am-
biguous evidences of an interest in Christ'ſ Compare their listless in-
dolence, their formal services, their easy self-complacency, with the
earnestness, diligence, and self-diffidence displayed in the above ex-
tracts; is it not at once evident which character best agrees with such
precepts as these ?—“Strive to enter in at the strait gate.” “Pass the
time of your sojourning here in fear.” “Work out your own salvation
with fear and trembling.”
Among the means employed by Miss Stewart for strengthening the
principles of faith and holiness, and obtaining the consolations of re-
ligion, none is more remarkable than her habit of frequently setting
apart days for fasting and prayer. Very rarely did a week pass in
which she did not observe a day of this kind; and often, as appears from
her papers, one day was not enough to satisfy the feelings and desires
of her mind. To place this part of her character in a just light, it is
to be observed, that she did not lead the life of a recluse : she lived in
the midst of a large family, and had frequently the entire charge, for
weeks together, of managing its concerns and providing for its wants.
Yet, not content with securing a considerable portion of time every morn-
ing for reading and prayer, she arranged matters so as to have fre-
quently a day at command, to be almost entirely employed in devotional
exercises. On these days, without neglecting necessary business, she
avoided, as much as possible, all mixed society; either remaining in
her chamber, or retiring to some unfrequented spot, (often, in summer,
to a cove on the sea-shore,) and spending the hours in reading, medita-
tion, self-examination, and prayer. This habit of frequent retirement
could not be concealed from those around her, and did not fail to expose
her to occasional ridicule, and sometimes to serious remonstrance, from
her less religious friends; but the power of conscience, and the love of
communion with God, did not suffer her to desist from it; and her secret
exercises were found so profitable and consolatory, that she prized every
new opportunity of engaging in them. The following passage is interest-
ing, as being connected with this subject: it affords a proof of the can-
dour with which she listened to the public teachers of religion, even when
they opposed the principles and feelings which she cherished, as well as
of the modesty and humility of her mind, and her anxious solicitude
to be taught of God.
“Monday, Sept. 11, 1769.-Was enabled to rise pretty early, and
went about duty in secret ; then with my sisters. I afterwards went
468 MEMOIRS OF
and saw W. H., and prayed with him, and his wife and child. O that
the blood of my dear Saviour and Redeemer may perfume all my poor
prayers At church, Mr. A. preached from these words, “Turn thou to
the Lord thy God.” Part of what he said, I liked much, but could not
agree with him in every thing. He argued against retiring much
from the world for private exercises; and said, our Lord was not much
in private : which I could not agree with him in thinking. Our Lord
was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and surely, as far as
I can understand the Scriptures, was much with his heavenly Father,
excepting when in the exercise of his public ministry; and then also
he was engaged in his Father's business. But, O Lord, I look to thee
for direction; discover to me my duty by thine unerring Spirit, and
lead me in the way in which thou wouldest have me to go. O deny
me not the privilege of being often retired from the world, to speak with
thee, my God I Didst thou not send thine angel to Cornelius, when en-
gaged in humiliation and prayer, to bid him send for Peter, that he
might reveal to him things that he knew not 7 and didst thou not say
to him that his prayers were heard, and his alms accepted 4 Did not
thy servants of old, David, Nehemiah, Daniel, and many others, often
retire from the world, to express to thee the desires of their souls 4 And,
O dear Saviour ! didst thou not set the example of prayer, of fasting,
and self-denial '! Lord, clear up this duty to me. Mr. A. spoke of
Christian conversation as a necessary duty, and as conducive to a holy
practice and a holy cheerfulness. We must expect to meet with many
discouragements while passing through this wilderness; but this must
not stop our progress. He said many strong and good things, and I
hope he had God’s presence and Spirit directing him in much that he
said. In the evening, I found my soul much burdened with sin, and I
cried to the Lord. O God, I trust, ere long, thou wilt turn my darkness
into light, my midnight into day !”
“Saturday, Sept. 23.−This night, by God’s grace, I desire to set
apart for spiritual exercises, as I have not had an opportunity of setting
apart any day since Tuesday the 12th ; I should rather say, have not
embraced any time for that purpose; which, I desire, O Lord, to lament.
God grant that while I have a being, I may never live so long in the
neglect of any known duty P”
The following passages display much sensibility and tenderness of
COrl SCICIn Ce.
“Dec. 11.-This morning had much grief on my mind, on account
of my last night’s troubles.* When I went to my parents, they both
spoke roughly to me, and I was overwhelmed anew with grief, and wept
sore. After that I went by myself, and, as far as I was enabled, spent
the day to God. This was a day of particular grief to me. O my God,
who only knowest the evils I am encompassed with, send me relief for
thy dear Son’s sake I Blessed Jesus, wash away, with thy cleansing
blood, every evil that defiles my soul. My dependence is on thee, my
Lord God. In mercy raise and quicken me, according to thy word. At
night, I was led to view myself as more in the fault than I had done
through the day, and to regard what I was labouring under as a just
punishment from God. I saw that it did not become me to repine, though
things in this world were not with me as I could wish ; for sure the
* Her parents had been offended at a part of her conduct during their absence from home.
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 469
smallest mercy I enjoy is unmerited, and it becomes me to be contented
with my lot, however God may order it. My dear and patient Lord,
who wast a man of Sorrows and acquainted with grief, enable me to
meditate on thy love, humility, and patience; subdue all repining
thoughts, and give me grace to bear, with holy resignation, whatever
cross thou seest meet to lay upon me.”
“Wednesday, March 30, 1770–How shall I begin to speak of this
day’s exercises I rose about seven, it having been past two o'clock
before I went to rest. After I rose, I went carelessly on till the morn-
ing was well over. After that, I approached God in prayer, reading,
and praise ; but what can I think, when, after this duty was over, I
spent the day in a carnal idle way, indulged in much imprudent, fruit-
less discourse, which I am ashamed to think of, and did little or nothing
useful all day. Oh, this precious day has been wickedly spent Lord,
forbid that I ever again be left so far to the freedom of my own will.
Lord Jesus, redeem me from the power of Satan, for thou only canst;
and thou knowest that when I am enabled to be, in any measure, se-
rious, I desire to rest on thee for all I want and wish for. What is the
fruit of sin but anguish of soul, cuttings of conscience, pain, and grief
Lord, support me under my burden, and put thy precious yoke upon my
neck. Defend me against the frailty of my nature, and against every
temptation. Let me not be torn with Satan’s suggestions; but grant
me peace of conscience, increase of grace, and perseverance in the way
of duty. O King, in the midst of my unworthiness, what reason have I
to love, and fear, and adore thy boundless mercy J Let thy own works
praise thee; for I cannot, till renewed by thy power.”
It would be easy to multiply quotations from every page of her diary,
expressive of the humility, vigilance, and piety of the writer. But we
must confine ourselves to a few additional extracts from the papers writ-
ten before her marriage.
“March 26, 1772.—I have great reason to bless my God for his care
of me through this day, but, alas ! much reason to lament my want of
love to my God, and of conformity to his holy will ; in particular, to
lament that, both in the forenoon and at night, I was much overcome
with an ill temper. No doubt, both times I thought I was getting pro-
vocation ; but, O King of glory ! give me that heavenly temper that
believeth all things, endureth all things, thinketh no evil, speaketh no
evil, but quietly waiteth and hopeth for thy salvation, my sure friend,
my God, my comforter.”
“Monday, May 18.—This day Mrs. Stewart, of T., died. I saw her
depart this life, and was much affected with the sight. As God enabled
me, I cried to him in behalf of her soul; and these words came into my
mind, “Daughter, thy sins are forgiven thee:’ and I trust in thy mercy,
great God, it is so. Next day I went and sat by her corpse, and several
others with me : we spent the night in reading, prayer, and praise.
Wednesday, attended Mrs. Stewart's coffining; a very dismal scene.
O my God l sanctify these sights to me. Friday, Mrs. S. was buried.
A more afflicted family I never saw. A little after her corpse went out
of the house, her child died. He had many severe struggles in death :
I was much distressed to see him. I thought on my own vileness, and
what I deserved to suffer, when that harmless babe, who was but a few
days old, suffered so much.”
470 MEMOIRS OF
“Nov. 28, 1772.—I have much to remark of God’s goodness in
making me the instrument of relieving poor A. C. out of a circum-
stance of great distress. He was turned out of this family’s service, and
he did not know what to do. I went to his house, saw his wife great
with child, and in very great grief; her oldfrail mother was laid in the bed
unwell; and they have two helpless children. My heart was pained to
see them ; they made their complaint to me; the one by tears, the
other by sighs. I told them I would speak for them to my mother;
which I did; and it pleased a gracious God to pity these poor distressed
persons; for my mother gave me leave to acquaint them, that he might
return to his service. This gave them great comfort, and I desire to
make mention of it to the praise of free grace, that regards the low es-
tate of his creatures, and leaves none destitute of his love and bounty.
O my God, often let me be the messenger of peace to others, and, in
my station in the world, always engaged in works of love and charity P’
“Phisgill-house, Wed. Sept. 13, 1775.-I desire this day, O my all-
seeing God, to look up to thee for light, counsel, and direction, in all I
think, say, or do ; and, through Christ, I hope to be enabled to devote
myself, in soul and body, from this moment forth, to thee. O my King
and God, let my ensuing life be truly conformed to thy blessed will. I
am fully persuaded, that my true and only rest is to be found in thee.
And what happiness is it to have Thee to go to, to tell all my distress to
thee, and to know that thou art both able and willing to relieve | Lord
God Almighty, lead me in the way of thy commandments for Jesus’
sake. Thine unerring providence has brought me back to this place.
Grant that it may appear that it has been in love and mercy. The or-
dinances which I enjoyed in Edinburgh were sweet to me; but I desire
to believe that it was more for thy glory, that I should be removed from
them, (I hope but for a season,) than that I should have remained. O
make my return to this place a special blessing to myself and others :
Sanctify my brother’s death; may it prove a memento to me while I live 1
May I be enabled to take a serious view of death, day by day, till thou
call me home to that glorious rest, which Christ has purchased for re-
deemed souls. Grant me repentance unto life, never to be repented of.
Conform me to thy will, in thought, word, and deed. Deliver me from
unguarded thoughts, words, actions, and desires. Whatever comes not
from thyself, and has not the image of my Lord upon it, may my soul de-
test and utterly reject O my Jesus, remember how thou prayedst that
thy people, while in the world, might be kept from the evil of it: I plead
this prayer of thine, as I am sure thou wast heard and accepted in all
thy requests. I trust I am the purchase of thy blood; reveal thyself to
me, and let my soul find rest in thee. Come life, come death, prosperity
or trial, I cast myself on thee, my God. Whatever my wants are, do
thou supply them ; and order, in thy kind providence, whatever thou
seest meet for the advancement of thy glory. To thee, O God; the
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, be never-ending glory, and never-ceasing
praise ! Lord, accept of me, thine unworthy handmaid, Frances Haw-
thorn Stewart.”
“Phisgill-house, Tuesday, March 5, 1776.—O God, holy and true,
what shall I render to thee for all thy mercies, and for the wonderful
condescensions of thy boundless love I humbly pray that thou wilt
accept of me, and direct me to think, speak, and act, at all times, un-
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 471
der the influence of thy Holy Spirit. O Lord Jesus, I long above
every thing to find thy Holy Spirit effectually removing the leprosy of
sin, that my soul is so much defiled with ! Thou dear Son of God, pity
a poor sinner that lies prostrate before thy throne, hoping for salvation in
no other way but through thy wonderful sufferings. My soul is weary of
sin; O let me find relief in having thy yoke put upon me, and may I
draw under it for ever!—What I have this day been laying before
thee as to myself and others, be pleased to grant. And as to thy servant
R. C., fulfil thy pleasure. O my God, bring my will to thy will; give
me an understanding of thy holy will ; and overrule both his affections
and mine into the road of duty. O my God, my happiness consists whol-
ly in enjoying thee, and in being ruled and guided by thee. Let me
know what it is to be in covenant with thee, and to hold communion
with thee, and enable me to rejoice in thy salvation. Remember me,
and look with an eye of pity on me, and fill my longing soul with thy re-
freshing grace. Accept of the poor faint aims of thine unworthy crea-
ture to serve thee, and devote herself to thee for ever; imploring above
every thing to have communion with thee, and to be governed by the
power of thy Holy Spirit.
“April 25. O Lord my God, direct thou the way wherein I should
go, and fix my views in the road of duty as to R. C. Open mine eyes
to discover thy will and mind in this matter ; let me not offend thee
either in desiring what is not thy will, or in doubting what is thy will.
I would desire, in the name, and through the assistance, of my glorious
Lord Jesus, to hold up my own case, and the case of thy servant, this
night unto thee, and say, Here we are, blessed God, do with us in love
and mercy what seemeth good to thee. Bless us both, by pardoning our
sins, and strengthening every virtue ; and whatever relation we may
now or hereafter hold to each other, Lord God, have thou ever the chief
room in our hearts, and let all we do be by the light and guidance of
thy Holy Spirit.—My Lord God, whatever mercy thou bestowest on me,
I would desire, like thy servant Hannah of old, to devote it from the first
of my receiving it to thee; whether it be husband, child, house, servants,
or any other of the good things of life; and I humbly beseech thee to
accept, through Christ, the free-will offering. If thy child R. C. is to
be my earthly husband, grant that we may both have the full assurance
of being heirs of the grace of God, and may be comforts to each other
in our spiritual and temporal warfare, and ever have thy glory singly
at heart in all we do. Give me thy witnessing Spirit that this is thine
own work, and that in thine own time thou wilt perfect it. Enable me
to have a close watch over all my thoughts, words, and actions, to do
nothing but with an eye to thy glory, and to have no desire or affection
but what is the work of thine own Spirit.—I am the creature of many
unmerited mercies; crown them all by clearing up my evidences for
eternal life, and granting me a strong and lively faith, to lay hold on
thee in all the precious promises that thou hast given to sinners of man-
kind. Give me power to take sweet and lively views of future glory,
and to consider what my covenanted God has done to purchase life for
me. He has sweetened death by dying and rising again. Raise my
thoughts above the world; keep me from the evil; and seal my soul
to the day of redemption.”
These extracts abundantly show the tenderness of the Writer's con-
*
472 MEMOIRS OF
science, the simplicity of her trust in Christ, and the ardour of her love
to her heavenly Father. If they should appear to any reader to be more
frequently characterized by the expression of penitence and contrition,
of godly jealousy with respect to her state, and of holy solicitude, to
“make her calling and election sure,” than by the display of animated
consolation and lively joy; it is to be considered, that, while deeply
sensible of the indispensable necessity and infinite value of the blessings
of salvation, she scarcely durst, during a considerable part of the period
to which they relate, believe that these blessings were her own. It is
also to be remembered, that grace is modified in the characters in which
it appears, by their peculiar turn of temper, and natural constitution of
mind. It does not make a grave person gay; nor does it convert one
who is naturally of a merry heart, into a sad and gloomy character.
The Writer of these papers appears to have been naturally thoughtful
and timid, rather than lively and sanguine; and besides, was placed in
discouraging circumstances in regard so her spiritual concerns, not hav-
ing the consolation of an experienced counsellor, or of a kind and sympa-
thizing friend. The circumstances of her external lot, in conjunction
with her natural temper, may certainly be allowed to have had some in-
fluence in determining the character of her religious feelings. But if they
sometimes had the effect of depressing and discouraging her mind, it
cannot be doubted that they were instrumental in fostering the peculiar
excellencies of her character. They doubtless contributed, under Divine
grace, to form in her that love of retirement, that dread of the tempta-
tions of the world, that strictness of conversation, that spirit of watch:
fulness and prayer, which so constantly display themselves in her diary,
but which certainly are not the leading features of the religion of the
present day. In reading her confessions, we are reminded of those
holy wanderers on the mountains, in the forlorn and dejected periods of
the church, who esteemed it a great privilege to obtain the favour of
God, and escape the notice of man.
But the reader must, at the same time, have remarked, that she had
ample experience of the consolations of the Gospel. She “feared the
Lord, and obeyed the voice of his servants;” and though she sometimes
“walked in darkness, and had no light,” yet she “trusted in the name
of the Lord, and stayed herself upon her God.” She habitually obeyed
the precept, “In every thing by prayer and supplication, with thanks-
giving, let your requests be made known to God:” and she obtained the
fulfilment of the promise connected with it: “And the peace of God, which
passeth all understanding, shall keep your heart and mind by Jesus
Christ.” Her papers are not, perhaps, in any point of view more instruc-
tive, than as illustrating the happy effects of a diligent application to
the secret exercises of religion, in soothing the sorrows of the heart, and
in cherishing and promoting the principles of grace and holiness. In
this view, they afford much encouragement to those who are favoured
with few external assistances in their spiritual concerns, and who may
be tempted, in an hour of despondency, to say, “No man careth for my
soul.” They show how much consolation and improvement maybe ob-
tained by diligence in studying the Scriptures, and steady perseverance
in prayer, when other advantages are but scantily afforded.
The reader will have noticed the frequent recurrence, in Miss Stew-
art's papers, of days set apart for religious exercises, and the very con-

MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. | 473
scientious manner in which they were observed. When we consider the
early age at which she began to address herself to this most serious
duty, and remember that she applied to it, not on extraordinary occasions
only, when under the pressure of peculiar difficulties and trials, but fre-
quently and systematically, as to one of the ordinary means of grace;
we must acknowledge the practice to be remarkable, and certainly must
regard it as a striking proof of the sincerity and depth of her religious feel-
ings. It is not to be expected that her example in this respect should
find many imitators. The practice to which we refer requires a com-
mand of time and leisure, which falls to the share of comparatively few ;
and it also requires in those who would engage in it with profit, a degree
of self-denial, a patience in meditation, a perseverance in prayer, an ear-
nestness of desire in seeking after spiritual blessings, which forbid us
to expect that it should ever cease to be singular. Indeed, to prescribe
the frequent observance of this duty to the greater part of even the true
disciples of Christ, would be to incur the reproach of putting “new wine
into old bottles.” Still it may be questioned, whether the general ne-
glect into which, it is to be feared, this duty has fallen, is not to be re-
garded as an evidence of the feebleness of our religious feelings, and of
the scantiness of our attainments in the spiritual life. Perhaps, the
neglect of this practice among Protestants may have arisen partly from
the abuse of it by designing hypocrites or self-righteous fanatics in the
Church of Rome. But certainly, the pretences of hypocrites and fana-
tics should not be allowed tolessen our esteem of a practice recommended
by the example of the most favoured servants of God, and sanctioned
by the authority of our Lord himself, who has prescribed the manner in
which it is to be observed.* It cannot be doubted that the setting apart
of particular seasons for religious exercises, and even for fasting, is one
important means of weakening the principles of sin, and strengthening
those of holiness. And I suppose it will be found, that among those
who have made the highest attainments in the spiritual life, there have
been few who have not acknowledged that when, like his servants of
old they have “set their faces unto the Lord God, to seek him by prayer
and supplications with fasting,” God has often visited them, with
an abundant blessing, has relieved their perplexities, has soothed their
sorrows, and has remarkably encouraged and strengthened their souls.
In her youth, the subject of this Memoir frequently associated with
the higher classes of society; but she was preserved from being intox-
icated by the flattering charms of worldly greatness. The insight into
character which she obtained through means of her intercourse with
high life, strengthened her conviction of the emptiness and vanity of
those things which are generally Iooked up to with desire or envy :
and furnished her with a practical proof of the indispensable necessity,
in every condition of life, of the knowledge of Christ, and of him cru;
cified, to communicate true excellence to the character, or impart real
enjoyment to the heart.—In after life she was destined to move in a dif-
ferent sphere. On the 18th of June, 1776, she was united in marriage
with the Rev. Robert Cunningham, of Balgownie, a gentleman of con-
siderable property, who, from the purest motives, had devoted himself
to the ministry of the Gospel. Though she did not feel herself at liberty
to unite herself with the connexion to which he belonged, but remained
* Matt. vi. 16–18.
60
474 MEMOIRS OF
in the communion of the Church of Scotland, yet, from respect and affec-
tion to her husband, she usually attended his ministry, and proved an
help meet for him in spiritual as well as in temporal concerns. In men-
tioning her marriage in her diary, she expresses a deep sense of the
heavy charge she took upon her, there being a large family by a former
marriage ; and prays for grace to direct and support her. The follow-
ing extracts afford a specimen of the devout feelings and conscientious
views with which she entered on this new state of life.
“Thursday, July 11, 1776. O my Lord God, I have much cause
to adore thine infinite and unmerited mercy in my preservation hither-
to, and for the rich provision thou hast been pleased to make for me.
Guide me in this land wherein I am a stranger, and make me useful in
this house and place, while I abide in it. Be pleased to enable me to
set an example of real piety to all around me ; kindle in me a fire of
zeal for thy glory. Let this day be spent in thy fear, and let me hold
communion with thee, my God, my very chiefest joy
“Friday, July 12. This new day, my Lord, I desire to bless thee
for the many mercies I enjoy ; and O sanctify every trial I meet with,
whether in temporal or in spiritual concerns. Thou, Lord, who seest
me, seest that I am surrounded with many difficulties. But nothing is
too hard for thee: thou art able to support and deliver. Be pleased in thy
good time to put a new song into my mouth our God to magnify. I
know, O my God, thou canst not err : be a present help to me, and up-
hold me with the right hand of thy righteousness. Let me confide in
none but thee; for none else is worthy of confidence. Thou art my
God, my friend, my covenanted God; my all for time, my all for eter-
nity; my joy, my rest, and crown of rejoicing. In prosperity and in
adversity, I desire to have my heart wholly only fixed on thee. Lord
Jesus, come to me; and as thou hast heard me, still look with love and
pity upon me, and revive and comfort my drooping soul.”
The following is without a date.
“O sweet Jesus, how precious thou art to me ! Though while I so-
journ here, I be daily failing in my duty, thou art ever the same, sure
and steadfast. Thy purity and perfection, and thy having reconciled an
offended God with guilty man, are all my hope, all my plea. Revive
and quicken me, for thy name's sake : for thy righteousness' sake, bring
me out of trouble. In this new situation in which thou hast placed me,
give me grace to act a part for thy glory, and to have clean garments in
this defiling day. And be entreated, O my God, to keep me from pride,
passion, and every evil temper. Since I entered into this new state, I
have found many things to humble me, prove me, and try me: grant
that the fruit of all may be to take away sin, and that I may have my
eye fixed close on thee, my only hope and trust. O my God, thou
knowest how much grief and temptation I experienced on Thursday;
and, worst of all, I fear it was a token of thy displeasure. O my God,
indeed I deserve thy wrath, and nothing but thy wrath, but ‘do thou
for me, O God the Lord :’ ‘let thy sweet mercy deliver me, for my heart
is exceedingly wounded within me.” Look down on me, and draw me
with the cords of thy love, and keep me from the evil of the world, while
I am in it. “I wait for God, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I
hope: my soul waiteth for the Lord, more than they that watch for
the morning.’”
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. * 475
“Bowerhouses, Wednesday, April 19, 1780. Most glorious and ever
blessed Lord God of hosts, I thine unworthy creature desire this day to
draw near to thee. I desire to give myself up to thee for time and
eternity, having no hope of salvation, but only and wholly through the
blessed Lord Jesus, my covenanted God and King, God of gods, and
Lord of lords, God equal with the Father. It is on thee, and thee alone,
I depend for my access to God, my head and surety. Draw me with
the cords of thine unbounded love : grant me a token for good. Say
unto me, ‘I have loved thee with an everlasting love ; yea, with loving-
kindness have I drawn thee.” Now, my God, I also would present to
thee my dear helpless children, S. and R. Be thou their all in all, their
everlasting portion and inheritance. I do not ask for honours or riches
for them in this world, but I ask for love to thee their God to reign in
them and to reign over them, that they may be witnesses for thee their
God. Seal them unto the day of redemption. I also plead in behalf
of my husband. Let the duties of this day be blessed to each soul in this
family; a day of humiliation, to acknowledge our sins, and praise thee
for thy mercies. Let it be the beginning of good days to each soul in
this house. God, pity my husband’s children whom I am set over as a
temporary parent. O that thy grace may be sufficient for them all.
Remember me with that love which thou bearest to thine own. Keep me
in the road of duty : make me in every thing what I should be. I am
thine; I give myself to thee with all that is mine, or ever shall be mine.
O my Lord, my God, accept; and to thee, the high and holy God, be
all the glory.
“November 2. Most high God, I desire to mourn before thee this
evening on account of all my sins, and to be very humble on account of
the situation I am now in. O my God, I beseech thee to remember me,
for it is thyself alone that can support me under all my distresses. As far
as I know mine own heart, I desire to lie low before thee, to confess my
manifold transgressions, and to mourn for all my past sins. And, O my
God, with my very soul I desire to be set free from my present trials in
the way that is most for thine own glory. This evening I have been
endeavouring in much weakness to cry to God : from the depth of my
distress do thou hear my voice. Did that encouraging word come from
thee, ‘What is thy petition, and what is thy request, and it shall be
granted P O my God, my request and supreme desire is, to have thee
to reign in me and over me, to be wholly conformed to thy blessed will,
and to be delivered from this body of sin. Keep the hedge of thy grace
around me, and in all my fiery trials, uphold me for thy name’s sake.
“Bowerhouses, Thursday, May 31, 1781. Father of mercies, God
of all consolation, what reason have I to love and praise thee with my
whole heart and soul, when I consider all thy way of dealing with me,
ever since I had a being ! Dost not thou say, that whom thou lovest
thou chastisest, and scourgest every son whom thou receivest 4–On
Saturday, May 19, between eleven and twelve at night, my dear son,
John Hawthorn Cunningham, was seized with a violent illness. He
continued very ill till between ten and eleven at night on the Wednes-
day following ; when, after a very severe struggle, he fell asleep, I trust
in the arms of his God. His death was a very sharp trial to me: I
was suckling him, and he as dear and fond a child as I could wish to
have. He was aged four months, sixteen days; a most delightful
476 : MEMOIRS OF
pleasant babe. But yet, I was glad to see him laid to rest, for his
trouble became very great. May I, O my God get the sanctified use
of it, for thy glorious Son's sake. When I went to implore the Lord
for him, these portions were laid to my hand: Psalm crvi. 8, ‘Thou hast
delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, my feet from falling.”
And Rev. xi. 17, ‘We give thee thanks, O Lord God Almighty
which art and wast and art to come, because thou hast taken to thee
thy great power, and hast reigned.” Both these portions I was directed,
I hope by the Holy Spirit of God, to read, when I went to implore the
Divine mercy in his behalf; and they abode with me during my child’s
great and sore affliction. I would fain take comfort that God was,
so to speak, bound by his own promises in behalf of my dear infant; for
often I implored his deliverance in the Lord's own way, either by life
or death, according to his glorious pleasure; but I am sure, I think, I
never asked his life absolutely. O how happy to be removed from this
sinful state to be with God! There I trust he is ; and there, my God, I
long to be. When I went to pray for him, a few moments before he
departed, these Scriptures came much on my mind ; “If any man open
the door, I will come in to him and sup with him, and he with me :’
and, “If any two agree on earth, as touching any thing that they shall
ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven.” Now
at this time Mr. C. was at prayer for my dear child as well as I; and
just as I pleaded this, death came upon him; and I fell down a second
time to pray for him, and cried to my God to take him, and found my-
self as willing to part with him as I was to receive him. At that
moment, I remembered my glorious Saviour's sufferings on the cross,
which I believe are what alone can purchase life for sinners; and I
hope, and desire to take comfort in the belief, that my dear babe is at
this moment enjoying perfect communion with God through the merits
of my glorious Christ’s death and resurrection. My sweet Jesus, thou
art dear to me : thou art my covenanted God, my peace, my all. Let
me find thee in this howling desert, for I am black and parched with
grief. Lord, give me recovery in my bondage, and quicken me to call
on thy name. Let me get spiritual knowledge from thee to discern the
true cause of all my afflictions. O my God, thou knowest that I have
gone through very heavy trials in this house. Be not far off when grief
is near. Thou art able to succour those that are tempted : support and
comfort me in every furnace into which thou art pleased to cast mé.
“Wednesday, November 5, 1783. I desire this night, O my dear-
est Lord God, to draw near to thee, believing, that amid my great un-
worthiness, thou still waitest to be gracious. Everlasting praise be to
thee, that though I am a poor vile worm, thou art the unchangeable God,
who both in thy word and providence art declaring thyself, “the Lord
God, merciful and gracious, slow to anger, abundant in goodness and
truth.” Now, O holy Father, encouraged by the many invitations thou
art pleased day by day to give me, to repent, return and live, I this
night desire to renounce the devil, the world, and all my base former
lusts and idols. It is in a firm dependence on thy promised grace I dare
to do this, or hope for strength to perform my duty. I am happy to be-
come an eternal debtor to thy free grace. I wish to live and die in the
full assurance of this, that while, as of myself, I can do nothing, through
glorious Christ I shall be made more than conqueror over hell and the
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 477
grave. I desire, O my God, to give myself to thee for ever: let me be
joined to thee, my God, and live and die under the sweet influences of
thine enlightening Spirit. Here I am ; do with me what thou wilt; only
be not a God that hidest thyself, and withdraw not thy sweet mercy,
which is my only hope and plea. O Christ, present me spotless to thy
heavenly Father, and make me acceptable in his sight. I also, glorious
Father, beseech thee to bless, and take for ever, under thy special care
and keeping, my two dear babes. Let them be thine in life and in death;
let not sin have dominion over them ; but let them be “washed and
sanctified and justified in the name of our Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit
of the most high God.” They are thine by creation; make them thine
by redemption. I cast them wholly on thy care : Lord God Almighty,
reject them not, but let them and me be for ever thine. Be my God in
life and death; my stay, my shield, my strength. I desire to devote my
self, and all that is mine, or ever shall be mine, to thee.
“FRANCEs CUNNINGHAM.”
The feelings of a tender and watchful mother, constant in her en-
deavours to lead her children to an experimental knowledge of true
religion, and affectionately solicitous to discover in them the principles
of grace and holiness, continually appear in her diary. In this relation, in-
deed, she was particularly exemplary, whether we consider the tender-
ness of her affection for her children, or the wisdom and prudence with
which she exercised it, the assiduity with which she laboured to promote
their comfort and improvement, or the earnestness with which she implor-
ed the Divine blessing on her endeavours. When they were, at a future
period, removed from under her eye, she still felt an unabated concern
for their spiritual as well as temporal interests, and ceased not to seek
their salvation with prayers and tears night and day.
The papers which have been discovered come down only a few years
lower than the date of the above extract, and are not numerous. We
cannot but regret that no memorials remain of the last twenty years of
her life. Perhaps the cares of an increasing family, or the infirmities of
age, left her little time to record the exercises of her soul ; or, perhaps,
prudential motives induced her to discontinue the practice, or to destroy
her papers after having written them.
The religious experience of the people of God is as various as the
features of their faces, or the incidents of their lives; yet, we may per-
haps safely remark, that when God designs to lead any person to re-
markable eminence in grace and holiness, he usually accomplishes his
purpose, either by calling them to difficult and laborious services, or by
imposing on them severe and multiplied trials and afflictions. The lat-
ter method was that which he more particularly employed with respect
to Mrs. C. The view given of her experience in the above extracts,
corresponds with the declarations of Scripture, that “many are the
trials of the righteous;” and “ that we must through much tribulation
enter into the kingdom of God.” We cannot but remark, that, in every
situation in life, God has trials at command, to exercise the faith, and
improve the graces of his people. These, too, are often such as baffle
the comprehension of those whose minds are affected only by worldly
things; arising from an apprehension of evils which they will not al-
low themselves to fear, from a sense of corrupt principles in the heart
478 MEMOIRS OF
which they will not acknowledge, or from the assault of temptations
which they seek not to resist. The trials arising from such sources as
these, are peculiarly instrumental in promoting that entire renunciation
of our own righteousness and strength, that simple dependence on the
merits and grace of Christ, that affectionate surrender of our choicest
earthly comforts to the will of God, that earnest longing after the purity
and perfection of heaven, which are among the most unequivocal proofs
of a state of grace, and which the reader must have noticed, written
in conspicuous characters, in the above extracts. Often is the expe-
rienced Christian ready to adopt the Apostle's words, “O wretched man
that I am I Who shall deliver me from this body of death P’ But
again, with him he composes his soul in saying, “I thank God, through
Jesus Christ our Lord.” Blessed is every trial which endears Christ to
the soul.
The extracts from Mrs. Cunningham’s Diary, which have been laid
before the reader, certainly afford unequivocal proofs of the most sincere
piety, and even demonstrate a soul distinguished by no ordinary at-
tainments in spirituality, vigilance, and holiness. Yet, they are far from
being sufficient to convey an adequate idea of her character; because,
not to mention that some of the most interesting passages have neces-
sarily been suppressed, the excellence of her character consisted very
much in that which a few extracts of distant dates cannot exhibit ; the
uniform consistency, the unwearied constancy, the ceaseless persever-
ance, of her religious course. As the writer of this memoir proceeded
in perusing her papers, and was gradually let into the secret of her
hidden life, her character continually gained upon him, and rose higher
and higher in his esteem. He found that those expressions of penitent
sorrow and grateful admiration, which, when they first occurred, might
naturally be looked on as extraordinary and occasional, were indeed
the habitual expressions of her soul. Day after day, and year after
year, with occasional variations of frame indeed, but with a steady and
even increasing influence, she discovers the same affecting sense of sin,
the same admiration of the forbearance and mercy of God, the same
simple trust in the Redeemer, and the same vigilance over the state of
her soul; and we are made to feel that a long life of faith and patience,
amid many conflicts and trials, is more valuable and glorious than the
warmest feelings and most splendid exertions, if arising from principles
of only occasional influence. Perseverance in difficult and important
pursuits, is justly regarded as the mark of a powerful mind ; but no
perseverance is so truly admirable as that effort of more than human
power, perseverance in the fight of faith.
The principle which lay at the foundation of her character was a deep-
rooted faith in the doctrines of God’s word. She received these doc-
trinesin all their simplicity, with the docility and humility of a little child;
she regarded them with the deepest reverence, and felt their influence
on her heart. The doctrines of Scripture with respect to the entire de-
pravity of human nature, the sovereignty and freeness of the grace of God,
the method of salvation through a crucified Redeemer, and the necessity
of the regenerating and sanctifying influence of the Spirit, were the prin-
ciples on which all her views and hopes in religion were founded. They
were engraven by the finger of God on the tablet of her heart. Her
conviction of them was not merely speculative, but practical and experi-
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 479
mental. Her conscience bore witness to the truth of those represen-
tations which the Scriptures give of the state of fallen man; while her
heart and affections clung with ardour to the good tidings of the grace
and merits of a Redeemer. Her faith was that which is “the substance
of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Invisible and
eternal things made such an impression on her mind, that she seemed
not merely to believe, but to see and feel them.
One of the most remarkable fruits of her faith, was a holy reverence
for God. The influence of this feeling was very observable. Her speech,
her manner, her whole behaviour, intimated that she cherished an ha-
bitual sense of the presence of God, and a holy fear of his Divine Majesty.
She seldom mentioned the name of God without a visible pause. She
noticed, with much care, his providence in the various events of life.
Nothing in the least degree remarkable could take place without being
instantly referred by her to the agency of Providence; and the inquiry at
once arose, “What does God intend by this? what does he intimate as
his will and my duty 4” She “endured, as seeing him who is invisible.”
Whatever might befall her through the instrumentality of human agents
or in the ordinary course of life, she regarded God as the doer of it, and
turned her thoughts away from the creature, to direct them to Him.
The Second Person of the Godhead was the object of her adoration and
delight. She seldom mentioned either God or Christ, whether in conver-
sation or in prayer, without some such epithets as, “glorious, adorable,
precious;” which, in her, were not the odious cant of hypocrisy, but the
expression of the most sacred feelings. Her reverence for God was the
cause of her deep sense of the evil of sin; for, regarding it as committed
against God, she could not esteem it a light evil.
The following incident may serve to illustrate the nature of the asso-
ciations that prevailed in her mind, and the tenderness and depth of her
religious feelings. She happened to be in London at the time of Mr.
Hastings' impeachment, and was one of a small party who had obtained
an order for admission into Westminster-hall, on one of the days of that
celebrated trial; but, on presenting the order, the door-keeper objected
to it, observing, that the seal was not that of the nobleman whose signa-
ture it bore. The party felt themselves in a very unpleasant situation;
and Mrs. C., who was naturally timid, and who trembled at the impu-
tation of forwardness or deceit, was particularly agitated. In this exi-
gence, a gentleman addressed them, and after inquiring into the circum-
stances of the case, spoke to the doorkeeper, and procured them admission.
This circumstance sank so deeply into Mrs. C.’s mind, that for a night or
two it banished sleep from her eyes. The reader will easily conjecture
what thoughts and feelings it suggested. It carried an awakening im-
pression to her mind, of the necessity of having her soul “sealed unto
the day of redemption :” of the disgrace and misery of those who shall
be rejected at the last day; of the condescension and grace of Him who
intercedes for the guilty; and of the happiness of those who are admit-
ted into heaven.
It is often thought that those whose views of God are peculiarly solemn,
and whose sense of sin is deep, are characterized by a melancholy ha-
bit, which is hostile to all enjoyment. But no idea can be more errone-
ous. Such views, indeed, naturally produce an habitual seriousness of
mind; but this is by no means inconsistent with the purest delights. It
480 MEMOIRS OF
deserves to be considered, that the more deeply we are impressed with a
sense of the Divine glory and of our own sinfulness, the more we are
disposed to prize the expressions of the Divine goodness. The goodness
of God is commended, on the one hand, by a sense of our own worthless-
ness, and on the other, by a discovery of his excellence and greatness.
This was remarkably the case with Mrs. C. Her sense of the infinite
love of God in “giving his Son to be the propitiation for our sins,” was
profound and lively. But even the slight instances of Divine goodness
in providence, which many would have entirely overlooked, she acknow-
ledged with a liveliness of feeling, with a depth of gratitude, which,
without having such views as she had, we should almost think dispropor-
tioned to the occasions which called them forth.
Of her assiduous attention to religious ordinances we have had abun-
dant proofs in the extracts from her papers. The spirit with which she
attended the public ordinances of religion, was still more admirable than
the constancy of her attendance. She went to the house of God simply
to worship God, and to hear his word. It seldom happens that a person
of her discriminating judgment, with respect to the truths of the Gospel,
is so entirely free from the influence of personal considerations in regard
to the public teachers of religion. Though deeply hurt when the great
truths of the Gospel were mutilated, and especially when any thing
was said which seemed to advance human merit, or detract from the
honours of free grace, she was nevertheless exceedingly candid in inter-
preting what was said, and was able to derive benefit and comfort from
very ordinary discourses.
Indeed, in regard to ber fellow-creatures in general, one of the most re-
markable features of her character was, her candour in judging. She
was slow to discern the faults of others, and backward to mention them.
In her earlier life, she laments, on some occasions, that she had been
betrayed into unguarded and severe expressions with respect to others:
she even, with the sensibility and severity of a watchful and jealous con-
science, mentions backbiting as one of her besetting sins. But certainly,
no one ever obtained a more complete victory over herself. When she
found it impossible altogether to justify the actions of others, she did not
judge their motives, but rathermentioned such apologies as the case would
bear. Unconscious of the superiority of her own attainments, convinced
of the necessity, in her own case, of all the grace she could obtain,
abashed by a sense of her own infirmities, she was not at all concerned
to judge others, but without self-denial embraced that precept, “Honour
all men.” She felt the force of that question, “Who art thou that judg-
est another's servant —For we must all appear before the judgment-
seat of Christ.” This was the source of her candour; an habitual re-
collection of judgment to come, a referring of every thing to that awful
dav. ---
fier charities were extensive. In performing them, she was govern-
ed by the pure principles of the Gospel. She felt it a duty which she
owed to her God and Saviour, to devote a considerable portion of her in-
come to charitable purposes. She “considered the case of the poor” with
wisdom and tenderness, and delighted in relieving their distresses. Many
are the families, both in the parish in which she resided, and in the
neighbouring parishes, which will long remember her kindness. She
took a particular interest in the extensive endeavours made of late years
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 481
to diffuse the knowledge of the word of God, and to promote the conver-
sion of heathens and of Jews, and liberally contributed to the advance-
ment of these great objects. But, in all her acts of beneficence, she
was exceedingly careful to avoid ostentation. She felt the obligation
of that admonition of our Lord, “When thou doest thine alms, let not
thy left hand know what thyright hand doeth; that thine alms may be
in secret.” From the most conscientious motives, she made it quite a
system to conceal her name, as often as it was practicable, from those
to whom she extended relief, or to whom she remitted her contributions
for any important object.
It has been observed, that the graces of the Christian character are
nearly allied. The fruits of righteousness commonly grow in clusters.
But what particularly distinguished her, was that spiritual humility
which deeply feels the depravity of our nature, and the deceitfulness of
our hearts, which sees the emptiness and worthlessness of all human
goodness, and which reposes all its hopes on the atoning sacrifice and
meritorious righteousness of Christ. This was the principle that seemed
to have habitually the ascendant in her mind; and it was the best of all
preparatives for a dying hour.
For the last ten years of her life, she was a widow; and as her chil-
dren had been removed from under her eye, she passed much of her
time alone. The same traits of character that marked the former periods
of her life continued to distinguish her; a dread of the temptations of
the world, and of the society of the ungodly ; an affectionate esteem of
the people of God, yet a frequent preference of retirement to the com-
pany even of those whom she approved; a disposition to silence and to
passive waiting upon God ; an abstinence from the desire of many
things that are lawful ; a love of secrecy, not only in her acts of charity,
but in many of her ordinary proceedings; a holy strictness of conversa-
tion; and a spirit of watchfulness and prayer. Indeed, throughout her
whole life, her religion lay chiefly between God and her own soul.
In referring to the period of her widowhood, it would be doing injustice
to her character to omit mentioning a trial, of which she had some
experience in the former parts of her life, but was not made to taste all
the bitterness. Though she was possessed not only of good sense and
prudence, (qualities in which she was eminent,) but of singular tender-
ness of conscience, exercising herself in this, “to have always a con-
science void of offence towards God and towards man;” and though, in
cases of a competition of interests, she was particularly fearful of en-
croaching in the smallest degree on the rights of others; she did not
altogether escape that “strife of tongues,” and those “hard speeches,”
with which the most upright persons are often assailed. She even had
the hard fate to be the subject of reports which affected the purity of her
motives, and the justice and impartiality of her conduct, in regard to
some important concerns. Her behaviour under this very severe trial,
exactly corresponded to the character displayed in every part of her
diary: it was a singular model of meek forbearance and passive sub-
mission; a striking example of that resignation which, recognising the
hand of God in the trials that proceed from man, commits its cause to
the Lord, and patiently waits for its sentence from his mouth. With
the most appropriate truth she might have adopted the words of the
Psalmist, “I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because Thou didst
61
482 MEMOIRS OF
it.” “I was as one that heareth not, and in whose mouth arenoreproofs.”
The trials with which she was assailed, appear, with the clearest evi-
dence, to have operated like “the refiner's fire and the fuller's soap.”
They produced effects the very opposite of those which trials of a similar
nature usually produce in unsanctified persons: instead of irritating her
pride by wounding it, they led her to humble herself before that God to
whose providence she referred them, and taught her to be particularly
careful to exercise the utmost charity in judging of the motives and
conduct of others. Indeed, of late years she was scarcely ever known
on any occasion to betray symptoms of anger or resentment, or to utter
an unkind word with respect to those by whom she conceived herself
injured. Above all, her trials exercised her faith, quickened her prayers,
and promoted her habit of secret communion with her God. The trials
she met with in youth, in her father’s house, gave rise to many of the
most interesting exercises of her soul ; and the greater trials she met
with in after life, appear to have been among the most remarkable
means employed by Infinite Wisdom to wean her soul from the world,
and to promote her “meetness for the inheritance of the saints in light.”
It is commonly found, that where great progress is made in the Christian
life, it is effected by means of sharp trials, which require large supplies
of grace from that God who has said, “As thy day is, so shall thy
strength be,” and which keeps in vigorous exercise the grace which his
goodness supplies. We are certain that she does not now regret her
trials here, nor think them too many.
For six months before her decease, she was sensible of a decline in her
health ; and as death had been familiar to her thoughts, she readily ad-
mitted a persuasion that it was near, though it was not till a much later
period that her friends felt any serious alarm. When informed of the first
severe attack of her disease, the writer of this memoir went to visit her,
with some apprehensions with respect to the probable state of her mind.
Knowing how deep and affecting were her views of the majesty of God,
of the hatefulness of sin, and of the importance of that change which fixes
the soul in an everlasting and unalterable state, he was afraid that the
approach of death might be peculiarly awful to her, and that her mind
might be subjected to disquieting apprehensions. But these fears were
quickly removed. Though aware of her danger, she was composed, re-
signed, and even cheerful. She expressed her humble trust in that
Saviour, whose faithfulness she had ever experienced, and who says to
each of his people, “I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.” In the
progress of her disease, she enjoyed habitually the same tranquillity of
mind, and exercised the same humble confidence in God. At one time
only, her mind seemed to sink under the weight of her sufferings, and
the awful anticipation of approaching judgment; but the conflict was
of short continuance, and she was enabled to resume the exercises
of faith and hope. She often spoke of eternity as a subject which filled
and overwhelmed her mind; as a state in the prospect of which the
world and all that it contains sank into utter insignificance.
She repeatedly remarked, that the more she knew of her own heart on
the one hand, and of the demands of the Gospel on the other, she felt
the more how difficult it is to be a real Christian. She often spoke af-
fectionately to her children, exhorting them to seek, above all things,
the salvation of their souls, and expressing her hope that they would ever
MRS. FRANCES CUNNINGHAM. 483
“ dwell together in unity, " During the sleepless nights that were ap-
pointed her she employed herself in meditating on the Scriptures, and in
the exercise of prayer. And it may not be amiss to notice, that it was
sometimes her employment to think over the questions and answers of
the Shorter Catechism, and to convert them into subjects of prayer.
On one occasion, when she was speaking of the solemnity and awful-
ness of death, a friend affectionately observed, that the recollection of a
life so watchful and spiritual as hers, might surely afford her comfort in
the prospect of death. She replied, with some earnestness; “ Alas! my
life has not been of that description: I feel the necessity of looking en-
tirely away from myself to that fountain which is opened for sin and
uncleanness.” Indeed, in the whole course of her illness, the atoning sa-
crifice of Christ was the sole stay and support of her soul. To this she
looked with the earnestness of an awakened soul when first brought to a
penitent sense of its sins; and such was her sense of her own imperfec-
tions, that she would not admit of any allusion to her attainments as a
Christian. When her sister once asked her, whether she thought that
her disease would issue in death, she answered, that that was hid from
her ; adding, “The Lord’s will be done.” At a somewhat later period,
when I happened to be alone with her, she observed, that her dear friends
still flattered themselves with the hope of her recovery, but that she was
persuaded she should not recover ; at the same time expressing her wil-
lingness to resign herself to God, whether he chose to prolong her life,
or to take her speedily to himself.
In the course of the last two or three days, she rapidly declined, and
was able to speak very little. Though tried with much pain, and sink-
ing under accumulated diseases, she exercised an unwearied patience;
praying much herself, and often entreating the prayers of her friends.
In the evening preceding her death, she desired her sister to read the
last two chapters of the Revelations; after this had been done, she re-
peated earnestly and affectionately, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.”
She then desired that the xviith chapter of John's Gospel might be read,
and spoke with much interest on that verse, “Father, I will that they
also whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, that they may
behold my glory.” After prayer had been made in her hearing, she
expressed an anxietylest her friends should be injured by their unremit-
ted attention. Some time after, she again expressed her confidence in
the Great Physician of her soul. From this period, about twelve at
night, she continued with little interruption in earnest prayer, in a voice
for the most part audible, till within a few moments of her expiring
pang, about three in the morning of the 15th of August, 1811; main-
taining to the last a firmness of mind, a composure of soul, and an hum-
ble confidence of hope, which entitle her death to be ranked among the
victories of the faith of Jesus.
In contemplating the death of martyrs, we are struck with admiration
at the grace given them, and are confirmed in the faith for which they
died ; but we seldom consider them as models for imitation, since we
are in little danger of ever being placed in similar circumstances. But,
in reviewing the deathbed of a private Christian, we witness a scene
which speaks more directly to ourselves, which presents circumstances
in which we ourselves may be placed, and which affords a model which
we are imperiously called on to be prepared to imitate. And how can
484 MEMOIRS OF MRS. CUNNINGHAM.
we be prepared to imitate the saints in their death, but by diligently
seeking that grace, and faithfully practising those virtues, which cha-
racterized them in their lives 4 Precious in the sight of the Lord is the
death of his saints.” “Be not slothful, but followers of them who
through faith and patience inherit the promises.”
MRS. MARGARET MAGDALENE ALTHENS.
MRs. ALTHENs, whose maiden name was Jasper, was born of re-
spectable parents, but shared in the vicissitudes so common in human
life. Though brought up with better expectations, she lived in the ca-
pacity of a servant from October 1776, until a few weeks before her
marriage, which took place in January, 1784. This humble situa-
tion, however, was so sweetened to her by the light of God’s counte-
nance, and so sanctified by the blessing of his Holy Spirit, that, in several
parts of her Diary, she expresses great thankfulness to God for those
dispensations of his providence, painful as they were at the time, which
rendered it necessary. She was thereby secluded from many tempta-
tions and snares: and her state of dependence was not burdensome,
because she depended upon the Lord, whom she served. We shall give
her own account of her early life and conversion, adding a few extracts
from her Diary; and subjoin four letters to her husband and children,
written to be delivered after her decease.
“I was born the 23d of July, 1752. I can remember to have had,
from early infancy, serious impressions of religion upon my soul. The
awful thoughts of heaven, hell, death, and eternity, engrossed much of
my attention. And I have often prayed, under the most alarming sen-
sations, for mercy.
“My father died when I was two years and a half old. My mother
being a German, I was educated in that language, as well as in my na-
tive tongue: and in the fifteenth year of my age, I was confirmed in the
German chapel by the Rev. Dr. Wachsell. I must with gratitude ac-
knowledge that he spared no pains to instruct me in the great principles
of religion. But the endeavour of man cannot reach the heart, unless
influenced by the Spirit and power of God. Though I was confirmed
and admitted a member of the congregation, I knew no more what a
change of heart meant, or an experimental knowledge of Jesus Christ,
than one who had never heard of him.
“After an illness, from which the Lord was pleased to raise me up,
I went into the country to my dear aunt’s, for the benefit of the air.
Soon after, she had an invitation from Lady H to the opening of
the chapel at Tunbridge Wells; and I, as being with her, was invited
likewise. This pleased me, and I was some way happy in the thought
of going; for though I made no profession of religion, I felt at times a
love for the ministers and people of God.”
While here, it appears that the writer was much impressed with the
sermons which she heard; her feelings were very powerfully excited, and
she had, in particular, a deep sense awakened of the love of God. She
returned to London, determining to lead a religious life. The account
roceeds:
prº I now read hymns, and endeavoured to learn some by heart; and
fully resolved, thinking myself sufficiently strong, that I would be very
serious and religious for the future. I thought I saw a beauty in reli-
486 MEMOIRS OF
gion, and wished to be more acquainted with it. On our way home
we dined at a house which had pleasant fields behind it. I took my
book in my hand, and sought a retired place, to read and meditate or
the loving-kindness of God towards me. And for the first time that I
ever sincerely prayed, I kneeled down, no eye seeing me, and earnestly
entreated that the Lord would give me grace and strength to perse-
vere in my resolution of devoting myself to him, and that I might live
and die in his fear. I looked back upon my past life, and was grieved
to think that I had spent nearly sixteen years in the service of Satan,
and had been led captive by him at his will. When I came home, I en-
deavoured to set about the desirable reformation. I prayed morning
and evening, read the Bible, and outwardly appeared very decent. I
was much delighted in going with my aunt to hear the preaching. But
still I knew nothing of what a change of heart meant. I thought I had
arrived at my highest attainment, and that all was well: I had already
established a righteousness of my own, which I supposed was sufficient
to justify me before God.
“But the Lord soon gave me to see my mistake, in hearing a sermon
by Mr. W , from the words, “ Thy God thy glory,’ Isaiah, lx. 19.
When he pointed out the wretched state of sinners by nature, that they
have no power to help themselves, or to make satisfaction for one sin,
and that without the atonement of Christ they cannot obtain pardon,
my mind was much agitated. I began to see that I had sinned against
a holy God, and was unable to offer restitution. This filled my heart
with sorrow and my eyes with tears. Then was my former comfort
turned into the deepest gloom. I saw it was impossible to help myself;
yet, I thought I had one prop to support me, which was prayer. I
wrestled with the Lord for mercy, and when I had learned to stammer
a few broken accents, I was never happy but when at a throne of grace.
And though I could say little more than ‘God be merciful to me a
sinner l’ I had sometimes a gleam of hope, that if I sought him I
should find him. This hope animated and revived my drooping spirit.”
Such is the account which Mrs. Althens gives of her own conver-
sion. Her mind was for some time greatly agitated; but at length,
through conversation with the minister on whom she attended, but es-
pecially the study of the Bible, she was led to take comfort in the
cleansing efficacy of Christ’s blood, the sufficiency of his atonement,
and the freeness of his grace. This was in the year 1768. The ex-
tracts from her Diary commence at a somewhat later period, and ex-
tend till within a few weeks of her death. t
“January 18, 1776. This evening met with a grievous trial.—But,
hush ! shall I dictate to the Lord'ſ Forbid it, O my God 1 May I be still,
and bow with humble submission : thou knowest what is for my good.
Thou hast not promised to exempt me from trials, but to support me
under them. What most pained me, was, a slight from one to whom
I ever was a sincere friend, and whom I looked upon as a friend to me.
I did not deserve it at her hands, nor could I have so treated my great-
est enemy, if in my situation. But I must not show resentment, I
must endeavour to overcome evil with good. O that the forgiving,
loying spirit of my blessed Lord and Master may reign in my heart
May I live upon him, and be content with every thing that befalls me !”
“March 27. Walked in Westminster Abbey; surveyed the sump
MRS. ALTHENS. 487
tuous monuments containing the remains of many whose names are en-
rolled in the book of fame. But, alas ! what are they the better if not
found written in the Lamb’s book of life What are the great warriors
and captains, to the happy souls who overcome the world, the flesh,
and the devil? These great conquerors could not conquer death ; but
the Christian can triumph over it. The believer's name is enrolled in
the annals of heaven. May mine be buried in silence here, so that it
be remembered there ! My utmost ambition is then satisfied.”
“November 4, 1780. The account I heard of my dear brother's
death is confirmed. He was wounded in an engagment, and carried
on shore, where he died, and was buried. I read the mournful news
with sensations which I cannot describe. O my dearest brother why
was I not with thee to perform the last kind offices of life, to bathe thy
bleeding wounds with my tears, to wipe the clammy sweat from thy
face, and administer some consolation to thy drooping spirit 7 Who
knows what were thy sufferings and the anguish of thy soul in the
last moments of thy life What tribute can I pay to thy memory,
more than wearing a mournful habit for thy sake, and retaining thy
image with the fullest impression upon my heart? There thou shalt
remain the subject of my serious thoughts, and I will weep for thee in
my retired hours.”
“Dec. 31. Another year is gone. Lord, grant me grace to give up
all my concerns and my heart to thee Pardon my many provocations
and backslidings, receive me graciously, and love me freely. Sanctify
all thy dispensations to me. Thou hast lately cut off a right hand.
Thou hast indeed wounded me in a tender part ; but, as I trust it
was with a design to cure, though one whom I dearly prized is gone, I
will still say, ‘Thy will, O Lord, be done.’”
“March 21, 1781. The returning spring begins to appear, the snow-
drop shows its head, the violet cheers us with perfume. The hedges and
trees are shooting forth their buds, and in a few weeks they will be
dressed in all their beauty ; and the pretty birds, sheltered by their
shade, will tune their notes to their Creator’s praise. Few are acquaint-
ed with the real pleasure of a retired life in the country : I would not
exchange it for the most magnificent palace,—for all the grandeur the
world can bestow. Here, my mind, free from the cares and hurries of
the world, can contemplate the wondrous works of an Almighty hand. I
prefer the beauties of the early dawn, to the finest sight the art of man
can produce. How beautiful the streaks of gold which tinge the clouds !
Then the rising sun diffuses lustre all around, and the damps and chills
of the night give place to the light and heat of the day. Come, you
pleasure-takers, who waste the day and great part of the night in dissi-
pation and folly; leave your downy pillows, and view the splendours of
the morning ! Creation, and all its works, fulfil the eommands of God,
and nothing but order and regularity is seen.”
“February 1, 1782. Lord, pity the poor in this sharp weather, and
incline the rich to relieve them. We have many noble charitable in-
stitutions; but still, were the one half of what is spent in folly and dissipa-
tion employed in these uses, how many sorrowful hearts, widows, and
fatherless, would rejoice And what blessings would redound to the
cheerful giver ! “If ye have done it to one of the least of these,” our
Lord says, “ye have done it unto me.” What consolation in a dying
488 MEMOIRS OF
hour, from a consciousness that time, talents, and fortune, were devoted
to his service Our good works will not recommend us to the favour of
God; but, as evidences of our love to him, they will meet with accept-
ance. Surely they who love Christ will love to tread in his steps; and
he went about doing good to the bodies and minds of sinners, and some
of his greatest enemies were partakers of his bounty.”
“May 10, 1784. How apt are the cares of this world to draw the
mind from heavenly things? But let me shake myself from the dust;
and may every avenue of my heart be open to the impressions of Divine
grace, that I may be rooted and grounded in the knowledge of my
Saviour. My obligations to him are very great, and still he daily affords
me new favours. The solicitude I feel to please a beloved husband, often
upbraids me with the coolness of my affection to my great Husband, my
Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel. I cannot receive kindness from my
husband, without making all the return in my power. My affection to
him increases daily, and I think that, to promote his good, I could part
with life. Can I feel thus towards a sinner like myself, and be less sen-
sibly influenced by the goodness of my Creator'ſ Oh the frailty of the
human heart l”
“December 8, 1787. And is she indeed departed,—my aunt, my dear-
est, most valued friend ? It is too true. Can my tears soon cease to flow
for her, who has emphatically been more than a mother to me'! Every
thing that bears a resemblance of goodness in me, I first derived from
her. She was the instructor of my infant mind, and taught me early
to reverence my Maker, and to attempt the paths of religion. It was
through her, I first had the privilege of hearing the blessed gospel.
But I shall see her no more in this world. How did she, with uplifted
eyes, breathe out her requests to the Lord, for blessings upon me and
mine ! Never can I forget her kindness to me in my last lying-in ; with
what affection she spoke, when she was brought into my room, and
how she prayed over me and the dear babe O my beloved aunt, many
an hour shall be consecrated to thy memory ! Very pleasant thou wast
to me in life ; and death, I trust, shall not long divide us. She breathed
her last yesterday, the 7th, in the 85th year of her age. Her suffer-
ings in her last illness were great. She prayed for support, and was
answered. From the time she was taken ill, to her, death, she was a
pattern of patience. Not one complaining word dropped from her
lips. A few hours before she died, she took my hand, and looking
around earnestly, cried, in a seeming ecstasy, “There they all stand ''
But her speech faltered, and she could add no more. I apprehend,
that (like Elisha's servant) she saw the angels who were waiting to
convoy her spirit to the regions of peace and joy.”
“May 19, 1789. As many of my friends wish me to have the ad-
vice of Dr. M-, I have this day applied to him. He apprehends
that I have not been rightly treated, and that I may yet recover; as
he thinks my disorder is not a consumption, but a great inward weak-
mess, owing to my having suckled my child too long. I have put my-
self under his care. I hope I can adopt the language of Dr. Young :
* Come life, or death, is equal; neither weighs.
All weight in this—Oh! let me live to thee.’”
“May 26. One affliction seldom comes alone. My eldest child is
MRS. ALTHENS. 489
so exceedingly ill, that I fear his life is in danger. But if the Lord
should be pleased to take him, I feel myself perfectly resigned to his
will. There is little prospect of my living to see him brought up; and
it will be a matter of joy, to think that his course is so soon finished,
and that he has gained the prize of victory, without entering upon the
field of battle.”
“June 13. I am still under the care of a physician, but he gives
me no hope. Indeed, it would be both cruel and in vain to flatter me
how ; for my own weakness informs me that I am going apace. I
bless my God, I can now say, Thy will be done ! I can give up my dear
husband and children, with every earthly connexion, into his hands.
He will take care of them. My husband’s trial is great. I feel more
for him than for myself. But Heaven will make amends for all ! Oh,
now I pant and thirst for the happy hour, when my Father will send
his angels to convoy my spirit to rest
“There remaineth a rest for the people of God. I know that my
Redeemer liveth. O death, where is thy sting 4 Henceforth there is
laid up for me a crown of righteousness When I walk through the
valley, I will fear no evil: thy rod and thy staff comfort me. Blessed
are the dead which die in the Lord
“I bless God, I have not one fear concerning dying. That Almighty
Lord who has so wonderfully preserved me to the present moment, will
not forsake me in my last extremity. No ; when flesh and heart fail,
He will be the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.
“And will Jehovah condescend
To be my Father and my Friend?
Then let my songs with angels join;
Heaven is secure if God is mine !’”
These last paragraphs, dated the 13th June, were found upon a de-
tached piece of paper, and were probably the last she ever wrote. She
expired on the 28th July, 1789, aged thirty-seven years.
LETTERS
WRITTEN TO HER HUSBAND AND CHILDREN.
Letter to her Husband, No. I.
My Most DEARLY BELOVED ! in
I frequently hear of the death of one and another in child-bed, which
fills my mind with apprehensions; for what am I better than they, that
I should expect more favour from the Lord'ſ
The sun of prosperity has shone upon me for five years, and I have
been blessed with one of the best of husbands, which makes the thought of
the parting stroke most sensibly painful to me. If it were not for the great
realities of religion, I could not give up the beloved of my heart. All the
powers of my soul are at work, when I think what your feelings will be
in the trying hour of separation. But, my dearest, grieve not as with-
out hope. When a few more years have finished their course, I trust,
through the merits of the great Redeemer, that we shall have a happy
meeting in our heavenly Father's house. Then, parting, sighs, and
tears shall be no more. “Then, I humbly hope, we shall be for ever united
in singing the song of Moses and the Lamb.

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490 MEMOIRS OF
*
The Almighty, who, by a chain of providences brought us together,
and only lent me to you for a short space, has an undoubted right to re-
call me when he pleases. Very pleasant hast thou been to me in life,
and in death we shall not be divided. You will shed a tear to my me-
mory, when you reflect on the many, yea, I may say, very many happy
hours we have spent, and the endearing conversation we have had toge-
ther. But the subject is too delicate, I must not dwell on it. Those
seasons are now past. They are vanished like the morning cloud or early
dew. Nothing now presents itself to me, but sorrow, anguish, weeping
friends, the gloomy appendages of death, and an opening grave.
This is a dreary prospect; but, blessed be God, here it ends. Beyond
the grave, the scenes are bright and happy. My reconciled God in
Christ Jesus will receive me, place a crown of glory upon my head, and
fix my abode for ever among the sons of light. Angels wait their com-
missions to conduct me to the New Jerusalem above, when, with a
golden harp and a palm of victory, I shall shine a monument of
mercy. *
There I shall wait the happy period of your arrival. Let this consi-
deration restrain your tears, your sincerely affectionate wife is not dead,
but sleepeth. You may commit my body to the ground, in sure and
certain hope of a joyful resurrection. When you are performing the last
kind offices of affection, I shall be rejoicing before the throne of God, drink-
ing of the rivers of pleasure that are at his right hand.
If I should leave a helpless infant, you will take care of it, and let it
be brought up with the rest, in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. I
am not solicitous to have my children great, but it is my earnest wish
and prayer that they may be good. My beloved, press forward; a
glorious prize awaits you. Be faithful unto death, and you shall obtain
it. If you see me in my coffin, rejoice over me, and say, What was
mortal, the worms shall destroy ; but her soul, arrayed in the robe
of the Redeemer’s righteousness, lives, to die no more. Death is swal-
lowed up in victory. We fall, we rise, we reign
May the God of my youth, the protector of my advancing years, and the
support of my now declining days, keep you under the shadow of his
Almighty wings! May he be your guard and guide through life, your
comfort in the hour of dissolution, and your portion and happiness
throughout the ages of eternity
Your affectionate wife, in life and death,
M. M. A.
Letter to her Husband, No. II.
My Most DEARLY BELovED !
When you are reading these lines, there will be nothing left of me but
a cold lump of clay. I bless God for having heard and answered my
prayer; for, you, know, I have often expressed a desire that my immor-
tal spirit might take its flight before yours. Long may you live for the
sake of your dear family, to bring them up in the fear of the Lord! Let
me entreat you not to sorrow as one without, hope, for be assured that
I am happy. I know that the enormous account of my sins is blotted
out by the precious blood of my crucified Redeemer, who came into the
world to call"not the righteous, but such sinners as I am, to repentance;
MRS. ALTHENS. 49]
and he has declared, that where he is his people shall also be. So that
I am only transplanted from the church militant, into the church trium-
phant, to join with that general assembly in praising the riches of re-
deeming grace and dying love. &
I hope you have no doubt of the sincerity of my affection to you. .
Heaven is my witness, that your temporal and spiritual welfare has been
the subject of my incessant prayers; and, I trust they will be answering
when I am sleeping in the dust. If the disembodied spirits may be
favoured with the knowledge of things done below, and still interested
in the concernments of their dear relatives, as I have some reason to think
they will,—how gladly shall I accept the pleasing employ of attending
you as an invisible guardian-angel ! to warn you of dangers, and lend
you aid in every season of distress My first care should be, to wipe the
tears from your beloved cheek, to sooth the wound my removal has
made, and to help you to triumph over your loss with the fortitude and
resignation becoming you as a child of God.
Time is short : in a few revolving years, at most, your silver cord of
life will be loosed, and your golden bowl broken. Then, when every
earthly comfort shall fade, you will know the worth of redemption by
the sufferings and death of the Son of God. Oh, that when flesh and
heart shall fail, you may find him your strength and portion | If so, what
a joyful meeting shall we have, to part no more, in his presence, where
there is fulness of joy, and where all tears shall be wiped away !
I thank you for all the kindness you have shown to me, a most un-
worthy creature. You have indeed been a tender and affectionate hus-
band to me. In you I have found a bosom friend, and my cares have
been reposed in your beloved breast. My earthly happiness has been
too great. I acquiesce. He who gave me life, has a right to take it.
I go to permanent happiness without alloy, where sorrow can find no
entrance.
And now, with all the solemn appendages of death in my view, the
gloomy grave, and an eternal world, into which I am about to enter, I
lift up my hands in supplication for you. May the blessings of the eter-
nal Jehovah rest upon you ! May his presence be your light and your
strength, to direct and support you through all the changes of this mortal
life! And when you are bidding adieu to all in this world, may his Al-
mighty arm be your defence, and may his heavenly messengers convey
your departing spirit to the unsullied regions of eternal peace Adieu!
till we meet to part no more. The Lord bless you !
Your affectionate wife,
M. M. A.
Letter to her Husband's two Children by a former Wife.
My DEAR FREDERICK AND CHARLEs 1
The ties of relation between us are broken, and you will see her no
more, who has very imperfectly fulfilled to you the duty of a mother-
in-law. However, I would hope that some of the instructions you have
received from me will make an abiding impression upon your minds.
I now address you in the sacred language of Scripture, “Remember
thy Creator in the days of thy youth.” It is recorded to the honour of
King Josiah, that he sought his God while he was yet young. Samuel,
492 MEMOIRS OF
likewise, was called early to acknowledge the God of his fathers. These
instances are left upon record for our instruction and encouragement,that
we should go and do likewise. And God has said, “They that seek
me early shall find me.” By seeking the Lord in early life, you will
escape many temptations that you will otherwise be exposed to. Do
you ask me how you are to seek him Read the Bible with attention,
and pray over it. The path you are to walk in, will then appear more
and more plain.
Believe in that Almighty Being, who created the world and all things
in it; who gave you your birth, and has preserved you to the present
moment; and who will, if you confide in him, not only support and
guide you through life, but will be your strength and portion in the hour
of dissolution, when flesh and heart shall fail. ...”
Believe in his Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, who condescended to take
our nature upon him, and to die for our sins, that we might die unto sin, .
and live to the praise and glory of his holy name. He who is THE TRUTH,
has declared, that whosoever believeth in him, shall be saved,—shall live
for ever.
Believe in the Holy Spirit, who will enlighten your understanding,
instruct you in the ways of true religion, and enable you, by a life and
conversation agreeable to your profession, to adorn the doctrine of God
our Saviour in all things. But “if any man have not the Spirit of
Christ, he is none of his.” It is the religion of the gospel alone, my dear
children, that can regulate your affections, refine your tempers, and
make you appear amiable in the sight of men. For then they must ad-
mire your conduct, even if they disapprove of your singularity. For a
Christian must be singular, because his walk is not with man, but with
God. Let me therefore entreat you to be faithful to God, even unto
death, and he will give you a crown of life. *
And now, my dear Frederick, I request you to behave with dutiful
respect to your honoured father. He has been a good father to you.-
Endeavour to alleviate his present affligtion, by the utmost attention to
his person and business. And if you sée him wear the aspect of sorrow,
desire him not to grieve for me, but rather to rejoice that I am delivered
from the miseries of mortality, and have my fixed abode with the saints
in light.
And now, my dear children, I bid you, for a time, farewell. That
God may be your guide and protector in youth, and to the end of life, is
the dying prayer of !
Your affectionate mother,
M. M. A.
Letter to her own three Children.
My DEARLY BELovED ANDREw-HENRY, WILLIAM, AND GEorg E!
When you are capable of reading these lines, the hand that wrote
them will be mouldered into dust. If God had prolonged my life, it
would have been my delight to have instructed you in his fear, and to have
cultivated in your infant hearts reverence and gratitude to your Creator.
But the Almighty, who cannot err, fol wise ends, has appointed a se-
paration. He is about to take me from this vale of sin and misery, to
celebrate his praise, and to admire his glorious perfections, in his heavenly
MRS. ALTHENS. 493
kingdom. I cannot leave the world without bequeathing to my below-
ed children a few instructions, as my dying advice; which, so far as they
are agreeable to the word of God, I humbly beseech him to give them
grace to value.
You have a father, who, I am sure, loves you, and if it please God to
spare his life, will do his utmost to have you brought up in the Christian
religion,--a blessing for which you can never be sufficiently thankful.
I entreat you, yea, I charge you, as you shall answer it at the dreadful
day of judgment, that you love and serve your God in sincerity and
truth; otherwise, she who brought you into the world with sorrow, will,
at last, rejoice in your just condemnation.
I admonish you to love the Bible, to read it with attention, and pray
God to enlighten your understanding, that you may know and approve
the glorious truths which that blessed book contains. To reading, add
meditation. Do not read it as a history, in which you are no way con-
cerned ; but remember, it is the word of Him who is not a man like
yourself. It is the word of a God who is perfect and holy in all his
ways. It is the book by which your heart and actions will be tried.
Try yourself by it repeatedly, and endeavour to make yourself well ac-
quainted with its contents. It is recorded to the honour of that eminent
Christian youth, King Edward the Sixth, that if at any time he let the
Bible fall, he would take it up with reverence and concern, as having
treated the word of his Creator with disrespect.
But, my dear children, to reading and meditation you must add fer-
vent prayer. Consider yourselves, as you really are, sinners by nature
and practice. In sin you were conceived and brought forth. By the
disobedience of one man, sin entered the world, and death by sin,
as you may read in the third chapter of Genesis. But, “ by the obe-
dience of one, many are made righteous.” This one, who took com-
passion on Adam’s lost race is no other than the Son of God, who dwelt
from eternity in the bosom of his Father. This Prince of peace was
the sinner’s only friend, who gave his life a sacrifice for sin. He gave
his life a sacrifice for you, my dear children, if you do but believe in him,
Oh, reject him not, but give up yourselves a willing sacrifice to his ser-
vice | You will find his ways to be ways of pleasantness, and all his paths
peace; a peace which the world knows nothing of, which it can neither
give nor take away.
I entreat you to honour and obey your dear father. “Honour your
father and mother is the first commandment with promise.” And the
apostle says, “ Children, obey your parents in all things.” I do not
mean only, that you are to obey his commands; you ought likewise al-
ways to reverence his person and character, and make his interest the
object of your attention. Should you be intrusted with the concerns
of his business, punctually fulfil the trust reposed in you, with diligence,
alacrity, and delight. Ingratiate yourself into his favour by the most
endearing and observant behaviour; and always, whether in his presence
or absence, behave towards him with that respect which is due.
If he should again enterinto the marriage state, I layit as an injunction
upon you, that you treat your mother-in-law with dutiful respect. Try
to win her affections; and if you gain them, make it your study to secure
them.
Love your brothers. You are the youngest in the family, therefore it
494 MEMOIRS OF
is your place to submit to them. Let not envy or malice reign in your
hearts; but endeavour to live in peace and harmony with each other.
Thus shall you be blessed of the Lord, and be made a comfort to the
family to which you are united.
Again, I entreat you to be lowly in heart and life. Pride banished
angels from happiness in heaven, to the lowest depths of misery in hell.
The Scripture declares, that “whoever exalteth himself shall be abased,
but whoever humbleth himself shall be exalted.” A proud person is
an ignorant one. Seek, therefore, of the Lord the true knowledge of
yourself, and then be proud if you can. Imitate the character of our
Lord and Master, and you will be a pattern of humility. Despise not
the poor, but administer to their necessities as far as you are able.
Save your pocket-money, and dedicate it to the Lord’s poor; and he
will abundantly repay you. A cup of cold water, given in the name
of a disciple, shall not lose its reward.
Love retirement, and be more fond of being alone, than of letting
your tongue run in company. Thus you will improve your mind, and
be qualified to act either in public or in private life.
Love your enemies, if you should have any. Be not bitter against
them : if you cannot turn their hearts, pray for them. In this way you
will heap coals of fire upon their heads, and constrain them to admire
your conduct.
Follow not the vanities of the present age. I charge you not to love
the card-table, nor to frequent play-houses, balls, assemblies, or any of
the scenes of dissipation, by which, as by so many baits, Satan takes ad-
vantage to entangle deluded mortals. These amusements will afford
you no comfort in a dying hour. Resist the devil, therefore, and he will
flee from you. Wear the sword of the Spirit, the word of God, in your
own defence, and keep it bright by repeated use ; and then you need
not fear either the displeasure of men or the rage of devils ; “For
who is he that can harm you, if you are followers of that which is
good P’
Be not ashamed of the cross of Christ; it is the Christian’s glory: it
is the power of God unto salvation. But “whoever will live godly in
Christ Jesus, must suffer affliction.” Love the people of God, and cul-
tivate an acquaintance with them. They are the excellent of the earth,
and it is for their sakes that the world is upheld. But, my dear children,
you must not consider all those as the people of Christ, who make pro-
fession of his name. He had but twelve apostles, and one of them was
a devil. Many call him Lord, to promote their own ends, to whom, in
the great day, he will say, “Depart from me, I never knew you.” Be
not content with the shell, but seek for the kernel of true Christianity.
Let redeeming love be the principal "object of your study. Search for
those treasures of wisdom and knowledge, which the angels desire to
look into. This happy knowledge will qualify you, if not for offices
and dignities upon earth, for a most honourable advancement in heaven.
Contemplate the perfections of the Son of God. An habitual remem-
brance of his agonies and dying love will be as a golden altar, whence
you may take a coal to enkindle the sacred flame of love in your
own breast.
Love the house and public worship of God,—that you may say, with
David, “My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the
MRS. ALTHENS. 495
Lord. I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than
dwell in the tents of wickedness.” Go not with unhallowed lips into
the sanctuary, but let your heart and voice join in singing the Saviour's
praise. Keep the Lord’s day holy ; let no work be done by you in it,
but what is absolutely necessary, and such as you will be able to answer
for at the great day ; I mean, especially, when you shall be your own
masters. Devote the Lord’s-day to religious exercises, to public wor-
ship, private reflection, reading, and to earnest prayer for yourself, your
family and friends, the nation to which you belong, and the world at
large. Pray for that happy time when the kingdoms of the world shall
become the kingdoms of the Lord and of his Christ. Be not fond of
visiting on this holy day, but rather of retirement. Every Lord’s-day
thus sanctified, will promote your advantage and comfort in time, and
your meetness for the eternal Sabbath.
I have one thing more to add. I was always fond of writing, from a
child. And when the Lord, in mercy, was pleased to awaken me from
the carelessness of my natural state, and to show me that nothing short
of himself could make me happy, a dear minister, to whom I have been
indebted for many spiritual benefits, advised me to set down remarks on
the state of my mind, from time to time. I have followed his advice,
and it has been attended with a great blessing to me. Yea, in this sweet
employment I have spent many a pleasant hour, when thousands were
sleeping in their beds.
The manuscripts I have by me, I leave them as a present to my belov-
ed children. Read them with attention. They contain nothing but
simplicity, and I trust, truth. They are not adorned with elegant lan-
guage. That was not my aim, as they were written for my own use,
and chiefly when I was under the afflicting hand of my merciful hea-
venly Father, whose ways are in the deep waters, but who, in the end,
doth all things well. e
I would wish you, my children, in this particular to follow my exam-
ple. Be not fearful of undertaking it. I began in much timidity, but
the Lord strengthened me. So he will you, if you confide in him, and
if your motive is disinterested. I have often thought of correcting the
whole, but have not had time; otherwise you would have seen it in a
better garb. You will find likewise some thoughts and reflections, which
I began, but which also, for want of time, I have left unfinished. These
I likewise recommend to your perusal, and wish you to complete them.
And I pray the Lord to afford his blessing. * *
And now, my dear and much loved children, nothing remains but to
bid you a last farewell.
May the blessing of the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and
the God of Jacob, rest upon you ! May he pour plentifully into your
hearts the riches of his grace, that you may grow up as the cedars of
Lebanon 1 May you be trees of righteousness, of the Lord’s own plant-
ing ! May you be adorned with every grace of the Holy Spirit, that all
around you may see that you belong to Jesus! May your will be sweetly
sunk in the will of God 1 May you be sincere penitents, true converts,
and sound believers 1 May you be dead to the world and all things in it,
and your life hid with Christ in God . .
At length may you finish your course with joy | When dying pangs
come upon you, when death’s cold sweat bedevs your face, and the
496 MEMOIRS OF MRS. ALTHENS. l
soul sits, as it were, upon the quivering lips, ready to take itseverlasting
flight, may you then, rejoicing in the Redeemer’s complete atonement,
and triumphing over death and his sting, be conducted by angels to the
bright realms of eternal day ! There I trust to meet you, and the rest
of our dear family, and to unite with you in admiring and praising the
adorable perfections of our God and Saviour. Till that blessed period,
adieu. -
Your affectionate mother,
M. M. A.
M. I. S S C A T H E R IN E TAL B O T.
Miss TALBot was the only and posthumous child of Edward Talbot,
second son of William, Bishop of Durham, and younger brother to
Charles, first Lord Talbot. Her mother was daughter to the Rev.
George Martyn, Prebendary of Lincoln. They had been married only
a few months, when Mr. Talbot died, in his thirtieth year, leaving his
widow in a situation very inadequate to his rank in life. The kind at-
tentions of an intimate friend were not wanting at this critical period.
Catherine, sister to Mr. Benson, afterwards Bishop of Gloucester, who
had been the companion of Mrs. Talbot’s early youth, and was residing
with her at the time, was her great support in this heavy affliction; and
when her infant was born, it was supposed that she could not have been
reared without the assistance of her care and tenderness. These circum-
stances naturally formed a still closer bond of intimacy between the two
ladies. They continued to live together, and to bestow all their joint
attention upon the infant Catherine, till the marriage of Miss Benson to
Mr. (afterwards Archbishop) Secker, then rector of the valuable living
of Houghton-le-Spring in Durham. For this preferment Mr. Secker
had been indebted to the friendship of Mr. Edward Talbot, who, on his
death-bed, recommended him to his father the bishop. Mr. Secker was
never unmindful of this obligation ; and was thus induced to pay great
attention to the widow and child of his deceased friend. Upon his
marriage with Miss Benson, he immediately joined his wife in a request
that Mrs. and Miss Talbot would become a part of his family. The offer
was accepted, and they never afterwards separated ; for, upon Mrs.
Secker’s death, which took place in the year 1748, they still continued
with him, and took the management of his domestic concerns.
From her mother it does not appear probable that Miss Talbot could
acquire either much literature or many accomplishments; but to her
she owed, what was of much greater consequence, strictly religious and
virtuous principles, so well grounded, and on a foundation so solid, that
they were never afterwards shaken in any situation of life. Mrs. Talbot
was not a woman of brilliant parts, and her own education seems to
have been rather neglected; yet, her mind was strong, her judgment
sound, her manners amiable, and her piety fervent as well rational. Be-
sides her mother's instructions, Miss Talbot enjoyed the benefit of a con-
stant intercourse with Mr. Secker: she reaped all the advantages of his
deep and extensive learning, of his accurate knowledge of the Scriptures,
and of his critical and unwearied research into the sciences and lan-
guages more immediately connected with that important study. Yet,
though so much attention was bestowed on serious pursuits, the lighter
and more ornamental parts of female education were not neglected.
Music, drawing, and painting in water-colours, engaged her attention.
The sciences and modern languages were not neglected. She attained
a complete knowledge of French and Italian, and at a subsequent
period of life, she taught herself German. She likewise studied
geography and astronomy with great assiduity. Moving in a distin-
63 *
498 MEMOIRS OF
guished sphere of life, her noble birth, high connexions, and residence
in the family of so eminent a prelate as Dr. Secker was, added lustre to
her merit, and set it off with every advantage. Admired also for her
personal charms, she possessed all the graces of the most polished man-
ners, and the most engaging address.
The seeds of the fatal malady which at length conducted her to the
tomb, seem to have been very early planted in her constitution. Hence,
probably, proceeded the listlessness and languor which oppressed her so
severely, even when she had no apparent complaint ; and hence also
the disorder which was mistaken for consumption, and for which Mrs.
Carter accompanied her to Bristol, about ten years before her death.
Her stay there appeared to have the desired effect, but she never re-
covered her health; from that time she became a confirmed invalid.
This excellent and amiable woman, great as were her talents, and
brilliant as were her accomplishments, possessed qualities of infinitely
more importance both to herself and society. Her piety was regular,
constant, and fervent, but not enthusiastic. It was the spring of all her
actions, as its reward was the object of all her hopes. Her charity, in-
cluding the whole meaning of the word in its apostolical sense, was
extended to all her acquaintance, rich as well as poor; and to the latter
she gave not only such relief as her circumstances would allow of, (for
she was never rich,) but no small portion of her time. Miss Talbot's
life affords little scope for narrative : it passed on in a smooth and equa-
ble tenor. This was a blessing of which her pious mind was deeply
sensible : she was always “ thankful for days not marked by calamity,
nor blackened by the horrors of guilt.” But Miss Talbot lived to expe-
rience a severe affliction, though she did not long survive it, in the death
of Archbishop Secker. This event, which took place in July 1768, was
extremely distressing, on many accounts, both to her and her mother.
They lost the sincere and affectionate friend with whom they had resided
for forty-three years, without the most trifling disagreement, or the least
diminution of kindness. They had to seek another home, when the
advanced age of the mother, and the ill health of the daughter, rendered
the necessity of exertion painful and distressing, and left them little
able to struggle with the world. For, it was an aggravation of their
sorrow, on losing this distinguished friend, that they for some time suffered
from the fear of comparative poverty. The archbishop's will was not
found till three months after his decease; and they had the prospect of
quitting the affluence of Lambeth Palace, for a precarious state of
dependence on a relation, or the occupation of a house on the smallest
scale. - º . . . . i
Yet, the balm of religious consolation was still theirs; and in patient
submission to the will of God, they found both relief and reward. The
language of Miss Talbot to a friend was this: “In so great a calamity,
it will somewhat comfort you to hear that my mother and I are well;
composed and resigned.” And again, a few days after, “Circumstances
of the greatest distress have been mixed with our heavy affliction, and
I more than ever see cause for thankfulness to an overruling Providence.
God be thanked, our minds are supported in comfort, and our health
wonderfully preserved.” 4.
The provision which the will of Archbishop Secker made for Mrs.
Talbot and her daughter, enabled them to take a convenient house in
MISS CATHERINE TALBOT. 499
Grosvenor-street, where they continued for some time. But Miss
Talbot's increasing complaints obliged them to leave London for a cooler
and better air. Their kind and constant friend, the late Marchioness
Grey, lent them for this purpose her house at Richmond, together with
“every thing she could think of to contribute to their comfort or amuse-
ment; ” and at the same time recommended them to all her intimate
acquaintance in that neighbourhood. From this delightful retreat Miss
Talbot returned only to breathe her last in her mother’s house in town.
She was with great difficulty conveyed thither from Richmond in No-
vember; and though she thought herself better for the first few days,
she was never afterwards able to quit her own apartment. Her dissolu-
tion took place on the 9th of January, 1770, in the 49th year of her age ;
it was not attended by severe pain, or any peculiarly distressing circum-
stances. To her to die was gain. Her whole life had been a preparation
for death ; her last hours, therefore, were not likely to be disturbed by
the horrors of a wounded conscience, or the agonies of mental disquie-
tude. The following account is given by a lady who was with her when
her death was hourly expected. “Her resignation and patience through
all her sufferings you are well acquainted with : it exceeds all description.
Cheerfulness does not express her countenance or manner; I mean on .
Sunday last. There was a joy I shall never forget, and founded, I am
certain, on the very few hours she hoped to remain here ; and she told
me she had that feeling within her, that spoke her happiness near.—I
am thankful I have known her, and have sometimes hopes I may be the
.*, *.
better all my life, for some conversations passed in this last illness.” &
:
§
`.
<º
# *.
The following extracts from her writings cannot but be highly aciº.
ceptable to the reader. *
§
REFLECTIONS
O N EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK.
S U. N. D. A. Y.
The Omnipresence of God, and the practical Inferences from it.
“O Lord, thou hast searched me out, and known me : thou knowest
my down-sitting and mine up-rising: thou art about my path and
about my bed, and spiest out all my ways.”
How true, how astonishing is this thought ! God, my Maker, is ever
present with me. He is infinite in being, and therefore must be every
where. He is infinite in knowledge, and therefore every thing must
be known to him. No creature is too inconsiderable for his notice.
The friends, the relations, and acquaintance, whom I see and converse
with every day, know not half so much of my conduct as He does, nor
are half so attentive to it. How hourly careful should I be, then, to
approve myself to Him : Among my relations and friends, there are
some whom I regard more than the rest, either out of greater affection
for their goodness and kindness, or out of reverence for their greater
wisdom and dignity, or out of interest, as being capable of doing me
more good or hurt. All these motives of the highest regard are joined
in Him. His excellence is more than thought can conceive ; what-
ever is beautiful, or good, or amiable in the world, flows from Him as
500 MEMOIRS OF
its source. In Him is all greatness and majesty, all wisdom and
knowledge ; every thing that is glorious, awful, venerable. My hourly
dependence is upon Him, and all my expectations through an eternity
to come. From Him I have received my life, my being, every power
and faculty of soul and body. Every innocent delight I enjoy, is His
gift : in every danger, He is my present help. No power but His could
guide me safely through the intricate mazes of life. Hitherto His pro-
vidence has carefully watched over me, and his right hand has held me
up; and through all my future life, He, who is truth itself, has pro-
mised never to fail me nor forsake me, if on my part, I will but serve
Him faithfully, as in my baptismal vow I have promised to do. That
blessed covenant I am going to renew by partaking of the holy Sacra-
ment Had not our blessed Saviour died to redeem mankind, we must
all have appeared before an all-seeing God of infinite justice and holi-
ness, without security of being considered otherwise than as objects of
displeasure. But we know that He looks upon us now as objects of
the tenderest mercy. He invitesus to “pour out ourhearts before Him,”
at all times: “to call upon Him in the time of trouble :” “to look
unto Him and be saved.” O my soul, in all thy ways acknowledge
Him, and He shall direct my paths.
M O N D A Y.
The Improvement of Time, and Self-examination.
“Blessed are they that do hunger and thirst after righteousness.”
Our Lord and Saviour has pronounced this blessedness, and through his
grace I hope to partake of it. Hunger and thirst naturally prompt us
to seek, without delay, the means of satisfying them. What then is
the food of the mind'ſ Wholesome instruction and religious meditation.
If then I sincerely hunger and thirst after righteousness, I shall be fre-
quently feeding my mind with pious books and thoughts. I shall make
the returns of these meals as regular as I can, and seldom shall I find
any necessity strong enough to make me miss them a whole day to-
gether. But then it ought to be remembered too, that even these, the
best hours of my life, ought never to encroach upon the duties and em-
ployments of my station, whatever they may be. Am I in a superior
station of life 'ſ My duty probably takes in a large compass: and I am
accountable to my Maker for all those talents intrusted with me by Him,
for the benefit of my fellow-creatures. I must not think of living to
myself alone, or devoting that time to imitate the employment of angels,
which was given me for the service of men. Religion must be my
chief end, and my best delight: it must regulate all I think or do ; but
whatever my station is, I must fulfil all its duties. Have I leisure
and genius " I must give a due portion of my time to the elegant im-
provements of life; to the study of those sciences that are an orna-
ment to human nature; to such things as may make me amiable and
engaging to all whom I converse with, that by any means I may win
them over to religion and goodness. For if I am always shut up in
my closet, and spend my time in nothing but exercises of devotion, I
shall be looked upon as morose and hypocritical, and be disregarded as
useless in the world. When this life is ended, we have a whole eternity
MISS CATHERINE TALBOT. 501
before us to spend in those noblest employments, and highest delights.
But man, in this low state of mortality, pays the most acceptable obedi-
ence to God, by serving his fellow-creatures.
What is there so gladdening as religious thoughts? Be my state
ever so mean and toilsome, as a Christian I am equal to the greatest
monarch upon earth. Be my misfortunes and sorrows ever so severe,
as a Christian I can look beyond death to an eternity of happiness, of
happiness certain, and unspeakable. These thoughts, therefore, I
should keep upon my mind through the whole week : they should be
the amusement of my labour, and the relief of my weariness: and
when my heart is thus ready, I shall gladly take every opportunity to
sing and give praise. I shall awake early to worship that God who is
my defence and my delight; and I shall close every evening with
prayer and thanksgiving to Him, whose “ways are ways of pleasant-
ness, and all whose paths are peace.” In all my common conversation
I shall have my eye continually up to Him, who alone can direct my
paths to happiness and improvement, and crown all my endeavours
with the best success. I shall try to be something the better for every
scene of life I am engaged in ; to be something the wiser for every day’s
conversation and experience. And let me not fear, but that if I daily
thus faithfully strive to grow in holiness, be my growth at the present
never so imperceptible, “I shall in due time arrive at the measure of the
fulness of stature in Christ.”

TU E S D A Y.
The Duty of constant Employment.
“I must work the work of Him who sent me, while it is day.” If
our blessed Saviour, infinitely great and excellent, was, when he as-
sumed human nature, so far from being exempted from the general
law of nature imposed on our first father and all his race, who is there
among men that shall plead an exemption 4 The duty of employ-
ment is two-fold. First, as we are active and spiritual beings, ill would
it become us to sit wrapt in indolence, and sleep away a useless life.
Constant activity, and extensive usefulness, is the perfection of a spi-
ritual being. The great God himself is infinitely active. “My Father
worketh hitherto,” saith our Saviour, “ and I work.” In their various
degrees all the orders of angels are “ministering spirits.” In the hap-
py worlds above all is life and activity ; and shall man, who is so fond
of life, lose his little portion of it in a lazy, slothful, half state 7 Shall
he quench those sparks of immortality that glow in his bosom, and con-
tent himself with being, for three parts of his time, little better than a
lump of organized clay 4 Innocent man in Paradise was not made for
idleness. But guilty fallen man is peculiarly born to labour, and to
trouble. Equally just and merciful was the doom pronounced to Adam,
“In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread.” Human nature, cor-
rupted and depraved by the fall of our first parents, would be incapable
of employing ease and leisure to any happy purposes. Greatly do we
need constant employment to keep us out of the reach of those tempta-
tions from within, and from without, that in idleness particularly assault
us. Greatly do we need to have much of our minds taken up with
perpetual attention to necessary business and hourly duty, that they
may not prey too much upon themselves. Labour and pain are the
502 MEMOIRS OF
necessary, though unpalatable medicine of our souls. Shall we re-
fuse to follow the prescription of that heavenly Physician, who drank
the bitterest cup for us! Toil and trouble are the just punishments of
guilty human nature: shall we rebel against our awful Judge Ac-
tivity and employment are the law of our being ; and shall we not
obey our sovereign Ruler, our great and good Creator'ſ
We ought to think nothing beneath us; nor to desire any thing but
what is allotted to us. We ought to imagine nothing our own ; and
surely, therefore, not our time : yet how apt are we to think it quite a
hardship put upon us, if any small portion of it is to be spent disagree-
ably, and if we have not hours, and days, and years, to indulge in
careless idleness and giddy pleasures |
W E D NES D. A. Y.
On the humble and religious Enjoyment of the Blessings of Life.
“And God saw every thing that He had made, and behold it was
very good.”
Such was the face of things at the creation. Every view that could
be taken was a view of order and beauty, of happiness and pleasure.
Too soon, by the frailty and the guilt of man, this happy state was
changed; and through sin death and misery entered into the world. Ev-
ery part of our world was affected by the general disorder. The earth
produced thorns and thistles. The seasons became unfavourable. The
beasts grew wild and savage : and hence sprung a necessity of labour
and self-defence. Toil and weariness must be its natural consequence
to bodies now become mortal and corruptible. Pain and sickness, the
infirmities of old age, the fear of death and sufferings both for our-
selves and our friends, with all that variety of evils that burthen hu-
man life: all are the sad effects of sin. The disorder of our minds, the
vehemence of our passions, the dimness of our understandings, those
tendencies to evil, which even the best people, sometimes, feel strongly
working in their bosoms, are the bitter fruits of the original corruption
of human nature in our common parent. Hence we should draw the
strongest motives of humility, and throw ourselves down in the deep-
estabasement of soul, before that God of holiness, ir, whose “sight
the heavens are not pure ; and who chargeth his angels with folly.”—
“How much more man, which is a worm ; and the son of man,
which is a worm 'P' Unassisted human nature could not be in a more
perfect state than our first parents were created ; Infinitely superior to
whatever we can imagine of good or excellent among ourselves. If
they were such frail, such wretched creatures, and so soon forfeited their
very beings, then what is the very best of us 4 “Let our confusion
be ever before us ! Let the shame of our face cover us!”
Many good persons, who have deeply dwelt on this dark view of our
mortal state, have represented it as utterly unfit and sinful for such crea-
tures, in such a world, to think of any thing but suffering and mourn-
ing. But as sure as our heavenly Father is good to all, and peculiarly
so to us, his helpless new-adopted children, so surely they are widely
mistaken. The blessed promise of our redemption was uttered in the
same moment with the doom of our mortality, and from that moment
all was good again. Pain, and suffering, and sorrow, became remedies
to cure our corrupted nature: temptations but a purifying fire to prove
MISS CATHERINE TALBOT. - 503
and to refine our virtue: and death a kind release from toil, a happy
admission into a better paradise. Through our blessed Saviour we
have obtained the grace of God to guide us in all our ways, and to
support us under all our distresses. Through Him, in Him, we have
every thing that can make us happy, unless we wilfully destroy our-
selves. “Rejoice then, in the Lord, all ye righteous; be thankful, all
ye who are true of heart.”
T H U R S D A Y.
The Duty and JManner of being useful in Society.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” How’
greatly do we all of us need this blessing ; poor guilty creatures, who
are every day offending infinite goodness, and provoking almighty pow-
er and perfect justice . How then shall we be merciful as we ought !
Can this duty be practised by any but the great, or the injured 4 in re-
lieving the distressed, or in pardoning offenders? Yes: every one of
us may practise it every day we live. It is a great mistake to think
there is no superiority, but that which rank and fortune give. Every
one of us may in something or other assist or instruct some of his fel-
low-creatures: for the best of the human race is poor and needy, and
all have a mutual dependence on one another : there is nobody that
cannot do some good : and every body is bound to do diligently all the
good he can. It is by no means enough to be rightly disposed, to be
serious and religious in our closets: we must be useful too, and take
care, that as we all reap numberless benefits from society, society may
be the better for every one of us. It is a false, a faulty, and an indo-
lent humility, that makes people sit still and do nothing, because they
will not believe that they are capable of doing much : for every body
can do something. Every body can set a good example, be it to many,
or to few. Every body can in some degree encourage virtue and reli-
gion, and discountenance vice and folly. Every body has some one or
other whom they can advise, or instruct, or in some way help to guide
through life. Those who are too poor to give alms, can yet give their
time, their trouble, their assistance in preparing or forwarding the gifts
of others; in considering and representing distressed cases to those who
can relieve them ; in visiting and comforting the sick and afflicted.
Every bqāy can offer up their prayers for those who need them; which,
if they do reverently and sincerºy, they will never be wanting in
giving them every other assistance that it should please God to put in
their power. &
- FR ID A. Y.
On the Happiness of the present State, and the Self-denial required in it.
“Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Alas !
does it not seem from this, and many other passages of Scripture, worthy
of all observance, and of all acceptation, as if it was our bounden duty
in this world to lead a melancholy, wretched, uncomfortable life Anu
can this indeed be the will of Him who delighteth in mercy ; who fill-
‘eth our hearts with food and gladness, and has, in not a few places,
expressly commanded us to “rejoice evermore ?”. Is there then an in-
consistency in the duties of religion ? God forbid l. Yet short-sighted
men, capable of taking into one view but a part of the vast and per-
504 MEMOIRS OF
fectly consistent scheme of duty, and guided too generally by passion
or weakness, are perpetually acting as if this was the case.
Between these two extremes undoubtedly lies the plain path of du-
ty : the narrow, but not thorny road, that leads through the truest com-
fort this life can afford, to everlasting happiness in a better.
The natural enjoyments of life are dispensed to us by a gracious
Providence, to mitigate its natural evils, and make our passage through
it not only supportable, but, at fit times and seasons, so far pleasant, as
to make us go on with vigour, cheerfulness, and gratitude : and to
give us some kind of earnest of what we are bid to hope hereafter :
some kind of faint notion what happiness is : some sensible assurances,
that there really is such a thing, though not to be in any high degree
enjoyed on this side of the grave. Still it is a yet more merciful dis-
pensation of the same fatherly care, that pain and imperfection, satiety
and disappointment, should be so mixed up with all our best enjoyments
in this low state of being, as to turn our chief aim and desire towards
heaven. And let us not fear, unless we wilfully and madly throw our-
selves into a giddy round of pleasures, on purpose to be intoxicated by
them, Providence will mercifully interpose in the fullest tide of inno-
cent prosperity, and make us, by some means or other, feel an emptiness
and dissatisfaction in the best this world can give ; especially may this
be hoped by those who take care to keep their minds always open to
such serious thoughts and right impressions, as will perpetually present
themselves, if not rejected; and who reserve some leisure time in
every day, for reading and reflecting.

SAT U R D A Y.
The Importance of Time in relation to Eternity.
Another week is past ; another of those little limited portions of time
which number out my life. Let me stop a little here, before I enter
upon a new one, and consider what this life is, which is thus imper-
ceptibly stealing away, and whither it is conducting me ! What is its
end and aim, its good and its evil, its use and improvement " What
place does it fill in the universe What proportion does it bear to
eternity ?
This mortal life is the beginning of existence to beings made for im-
mortality, and graciously designed, unless by wilful guilt they forfeit
it, for everlasting happiness. Compared with eternity, its longest du-
ration is less than a moment; therefore its good and evil, considered
without a regard to the influence they may have on an eternity to come,
must be trifling to a degree below contempt. The short scene begun
in birth, and closed by death, is acted over millions of times in every
age ; and all the little concerns of mortality are pursued, transacted,
and forgotten, like the labours of a bee-hive, or the bustle of an ant-hill.
“The thing which hath been, is that which shall be ; and that which is
done, is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the
sun.” Our wisdom, therefore, is to pass through this busy dream as
calmly as we can, and not suffer ourselves to be more deeply attached
to any of these transitory things, than the momentariness and unim-
portance of them deserves.
But considering this short life as a probation for eternity, as a trial
whose issue is to determine our everlasting state, its importance to our-
MISS CATHERINE TALBOT. 505
selves appears beyond expression great, and fills a right mind with
equal awe and transport. The important day will come, when there
shall be a new thing indeed, but not “under the sun ;” for “heaven
and earth shall pass away ;” but the words of Him who created them
“shall not pass away.”
What then is the good or the evil of life, but as it has a tendency to
prepare or unfit us for that decisive day, when “the Son of man shall
come in the clouds with great power and great glory, and shall send his
angels, and shall gather together his elect from the four winds !”
That Son of man, who is the Son of God, blessed for evermore, and
once before came down from heaven, and took upon him this our mortal
nature, with all its innocent infirmities and sufferings; and subjected
himself even to the death of the cross, that he might redeem us from
all our sins, and obtain the gift of everlasting life for all, who should not
wilfully frustrate this last and greatest effort of divine mercy.
What then have we to do but, with love and gratitude unutterable,
to embrace the offers of salvation, and henceforth become in every
thing His true and faithful disciples 4 To whom should we live but to
Him who died for us? To whom should we give up ourselves but to
Him who gave up himself for us “whose yoke is easy, and his bur-
den light.” In whom should we trust but in eternal truth In whom
should we cheerfully hope, but in infinite goodness 7 Whom should we
copy but Him who was made like unto us in all things, sin only except-
ed, and has left us an example, that we should “follow his steps ?”
which if we do faithfully to the utmost of our power, his grace shall
so assist us, that in the end we shall be where he is, to behold his glory
and partake his bliss.
E L E G Y.
O form'd for boundless bliss Immortal soul!
Why dost thou prompt the melancholy sigh,
While evening shades disclose the glowing pole,
And silver moonbeams tremble o'er the sky?
These glowing stars shall fade, this moon shall fall,
This transitory sky shall melt away;
Whilst thou, triumphantly surviving all,
Shalt glad expatiate in eternal day.
Sickens the mind with longings vainly great,
To trace mysterious wisdom's secret ways,
While chain’d and bound in this ignoble state,
Humbly it breathes sincere, imperfect praise?
Or glows the beating heart with sacred fires,
And longs to mingle in the worlds of love?
, Or, foolish trembler, feeds its fond desires
Of earthly good? or dreads life's ills to prove 7
Back does it trace the flight of former years,
The friends lamented, and the pleasures past?
Or wing'd with forecast vain, and impious fears,
Presumptuous to the cloud-bid future haste?
Hence, far begone, ye fancy-folded pains !
Peace, trembling heart! be ev'ry sigh supprest.
Wisdom Supreme, Eternal Goodness reigns;
Thus far is sure: to Heav'n resign the rest.
64
M R. S. ELIZABET H C A R T E R.
–––º
MRs. ELIZABETH CARTER was the eldest daughter of the Rev. Dr.
Nicholas Carter, who, with other preferment, held the cure of the chapel
of Deal, where this daughter was born, December 16, 1717. She was
educated by her father. At first, she discovered such a slowness of fa-
culties, as to make him despair of her progressin intellectual attainment,
even with the aid of the greatest industry, and the most ardent desire,
which characterized her efforts. She herself, however, though mortified
and sorrowful at her own difficulties, resolved to persevere ; and her
perseverance was crowned with unexampled success. She early be-
came mistress of Latin, Greek, French, German, and afterwards under-
stood Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Hebrew, and last of all acquired
something of Arabic. Before she was seventeen years of age, many of
her poetical attempts had appeared, particularly in the Gentleman’s
Magazine for 1734, under the signature of “Eliza.” This extraordi-
nary display of genius and acquirements procured her immediate
celebrity, and the learned flocked about her with admiration. In 1738,
when she was about twenty, Cave, the proprietor of the Gentleman’s
Magazine, published some of her poems in a quarto pamphlet, now
little known, as it appeared without her name. It is probable, she did
not think many of these worthy of her; as in 1762, when she publish-
ed a small collection with her name, she admitted only two from the
former work. *
In 1741, she formed an intimacy with Miss Catherine Talbot, niece
to the Lord Chancellor Talbot, a young lady of considerable genius
and most amiable disposition. This was an important event in Mrs.
Carter’s life, on many accounts. The intimacy of their friendship, the
importance of their correspondence, and the exalted piety of both, made
it the principal ingredient of their mutual happiness. In addition to this,
it procured her the friendship of Dr. Secker, Archbishop of Canterbury,
with whom Miss Talbot resided. By this means she extended her
knowledge of the world, cherished her profound learning, and exercised
her pious thoughts. To this event is to be traced her undertaking and
completing the work by which her fame has been most known abroad,
and will longest be remembered by scholars at home, her Translation
of Epictetus.
The celebrated Mrs. Montague and Mrs. Carter were acquainted
from their earliest years. From 1754, their correspondence was regular
and uninterrupted; and Mrs. Carter's visits to Mrs. Montague, at her
house in London, introduced her to an assemblage of rank and talents.
In 1756, Sir George Lyttleton, afterwards Lord Lyttleton, visited Mrs.
Carter at Deal; and from that time an intimacy grew up between them,
which ended only with his life. About the same time she became ac-
quainted with the celebrated William Pulteney, Earl of Bath, who de-
lighted in her society, and regarded her intellectual powers and ac-
MRS. ELIZABETH CARTER. 507
quisitions with unſeigned admiration. In 1763, she accompanied Lord
Bath, Mr. and Mrs. Montague, and Dr. Douglas, afterwards Bishop
of Salisbury, to Spa. His Lordship died in the following summer. In
August, 1768, she had an additional loss in the death of her reverend
friend and patron, Archbishop Secker. Two years after this, she sus-
tained a more severe deprivation in the loss of her bosom friend, Miss
Talbot ; of whom she says, “Never, surely, was there a more perfect
pattern of evangelical goodness, decorated by all the ornaments of a
highly improved understanding, and recommended by a sweetness of
temper, and an elegance and politeness of manners, of a more peculiar
and engaging kind, than in any other character I ever knew.”
Mrs. Carter was now indeed arrived at a time of life when every year
was stealing from her some intimate friend or dear relation. In 1774,
she lost her father, in his eighty-seventh year. She had passed the
greater part of her life with him, and their affection had been uninter-
rupted. The house in which they latterly resided was bought by her.
Half the year she was in the habit of passing in London; the other
half was spent with her father in this house.
In 1782 an event occurred, which once more disturbed the uniform-
ity of Mrs. Carter’s life. She had been under great obligations to Sir
William Pulteney, who very liberally settled on her an annuity of one
hundred and fifty pounds, which it had been expected by her friends
that Lord Bath would have done. She therefore complied with his
wishes by accompanying his daughter to Paris, though she was now in
her sixty-fifth year. She was absent only sixteen days, of which one
week was spent at Paris. Mrs. Carter was not insensible to the fatigues
and inconveniences of her journey, but her sense of them yielded to
her friendship. At home, however, she was able to enjoy summer tours,
which doubtless contributed to her health and amusement. In 1791,
she had the honour, by the Queen’s express desire, of being introduced
to her Majesty, at Lord Cremorne's house at Chelsea. Afterwards,
when the Princess of Wales occupied Lord Keith's house in the Isle of
Thanet, she called on Mrs. Carter at Deal; and the Duke of Cumber-
land, when attending his regiment at Deal, also paid her a visit. Such
was her reputation many years after she had ceased to attract public
notice as an author, and when the common mass of readers scarcely
knew whether such a person existed.
About nine years before her death, she experienced an alarming ill-
ness, of which she never recovered the effects in bodily strength, but
the faculties of her mind remained unimpaired. In the summer of 1805,
her weakness evidently increased. As the winter approached, and the
time of her annual journey to London, which she never omitted, drew
near, her strength and spirits seemed to revive. On the 23d of Decem-
ber, she left Deal for the last time, having six days before completed
her eighty-eighth year, and on the 24th, arrived at her old lodgings in
Clarges Street. For some days she seemed better, and visited several
of her old friends; but, on January 4th, she exhibited symptoms of
alarming weakness, after which all her strength gradually ebbed away,
till on February 19, 1806, she expired without a struggle or groan.
She lies interred in the burial-ground of Grosvenor Chapel. A mural
monument was afterwards erected to her memory in the chapel of the
town of Deal.
508 MEMOIRs of
The portrait of Mrs. Carter in her old age, which her nephew and
biographer, the Rev. Montague Pennington, has taken, is very captiva-
ting. The wisdom of age without its coldness; the cool head with the
affectionate heart ; a sobriety which chastened conversation without
destroying it; a cheerfulness which enlivened piety without wounding
it ; a steady effort to maintain a conscience void of offence, and to let
religion suffer nothing in her exhibition of it to the world ; such were the
qualities with which she came, as a shock of ripe corn, to the heavenly
harvest.
Mrs. Carter’s religion was displayed, not only in the humility with
which she received, and the faithfulness with which she avowed, the
doctrines of the Bible, but in the sincerity with which she followed out
those principles to their practical consequences, and lived as she believed.
We find her, in one place, charging upon her friend Mrs. Montague, the
necessity of enlisting her fine talents in the cause of religion, instead of
wasting them upon literary vanities. In another, we find her exposing
the pretensions of that religion which does not follow men into the cir-
cle in which they live ; and questioning, whether piety can at once be
seated in the heart, and yet seldomſ force its way to the lips. We see
her scrupulously intent on turning the conversation of dinner tables
into such channels as might at least benefit the servants in attendance.
This delicacy of moral sentiment, which feels a stain in religion like a
wound, which deems nothing trifling that has to do with the soul, which
sets God at our right hand, not only in the temple, but in the drawing-
room, is doubtless an indication of a heart visited by God and consecra-
ted to his service. Among her studies, there was one which she never
neglected; one which was always dear to her, from her earliest infancy
to the latest period of her life, and in which she made a continual im-
provement. Her acquaintance with the Bible, some part of which she never
failed to read every day, was as complete as her belief in it was sincere.
And no person ever endeavoured more sincerely, and few with greater
success, to regulate the whole of their conduct by that unerring guide.
Her piety, unvarying and fervent, though not enthusiastic, was at all
times the most distinguishing feature of her character. It was indeed the
piety of the Gospel, which showed itself by a calm, rational, and constant
devotion, and the most unwearied attention to acquire the temper, and
practise the duties of a Christian life. She never thanked God, like the
proud Pharisee, that she was not like others; but rather, like the publi-
can, besought him to be merciful to her a sinner.
The following extracts from her writings will furnish a satisfactory
illustration of Mrs. Carter’s religious character.
Written by JMrs. Carter on making her Will.
“In the solemn act of making one’s last will, something ought surely
to be added to the mere form of law. Upon this occasion, which is a
kind of taking leave of the world, I acknowledge with gratitude and
thanksgiving, how much I owe to the Divine goodness for a life distin-
guished by innumerable and unmerited blessings.
“Next to God, the supreme and original Author of all happiness, I
desire to express my thankfulness to those whom he has made the instru-
ments of conveying his benefits to me. Most particularly I am indebted
to my father for his kindness and indulgence to me in every instance,
MRS. ELIZABETH CARTER, 509
-*. à
and especially in the uncommon care and pains he has taken in my
education, which has been the source of such a variety of reasonable
pleasures, as well as of very great advantages in my conversation with
the world. I likewise very heartily thank my mother,” my brothers
and sisters, for all the instances of kindness and affection by which they
have contributed to the comfort of my life. If, in this disposition of my
affairs, I appear to have made any distinction, I entreat them to believe,
that not any difference in my own good-will to them, but a regard to
their different circumstances, has been the real motive of it.
“Besides my own family, there are very many others to whom I have
been obliged for very considerable advantages, in the assistance and
pleasures of friendship; of these, I retain a most affectionate and grateful
memory, and desire all my intimate friends to consider themselves as
included in my sincere acknowledgments.
“And now, O gracious God, whether it be thy will to remove me
speedily from the world, or to allot me a longer time in it, on Thee alone
I depend for happiness both here and hereafter. I acknowledge my
own unworthiness, and that all my claim to thy favour is founded on
thy infinite goodness in the merciful dispensation of the Gospel. I im-
plore the pardon of all my sins, and humbly hope for those pleasures
which are at thy right hand for evermore, in and through Him by whom
all thy blessings are conveyed, my blessed Lord, Redeemer, and only
Saviour, Jesus Christ.
“February 9, 1759.” “ELIZABETH CARTER.”
Thoughts on the present State of flífairs, 1752.
“The last winter has been a calamitous one to several nations, and
alarming to our own; and the summer prospect is clouded with impend-
ing dangers. What method can I take to avoid the threatened evil, or
to quiet my fears 1 Can I fly into some distant country, and endeavour
to secure myself there 4 My connexions and attachments render this
an impracticable scheme. Shall I depend for protection on the assis-
tance of my friends ! They are helpless and defenceless as myself. Is
there then no refuge left 4 Yes; a reliance on Him in whose hand are
the ‘issues of life and death,” and the disposal of all events 1
“And have I then been careful to secure an interest in this almighty
Protector, this unfailing friend'ſ Dare I, with humble hope and confi-
dence, look up for aid and support to that God who “ is of purer eyes
than to behold iniquity ? This is an awful and important inquiry, and
merits my most serious attention. Let me examine my own heart. Of
atrocious crimes, perhaps, it fully acquits me ; but to these have I any
temptation ? In avoiding them, how little have I to boast ! But are
there not faults of a less observable nature, and often much too slightly
overlooked, for which, in my situation, I am strictly accountable 4 By
the gracious disposition of Providence, I am a Christian : have I duly
considered what this sacred character imports; what a strictness of be-
haviour my profession requires 4 Is religion, and a perpetual view to
the solemn account which I must one day render, the governing prin-
ciple of my life " Does it, as far as mortal frailty will permit, influence
my whole conduct, my actions, my discourses, and accompany me even
in my diversions and amusements 7
* Her mother-in-law was then living.
510 MEMOIRS OF
“In this season of public danger, let me consider in what particulars
I am faulty, and sincerely endeavour, by the Divine assistance, to correct
what I discover to be wrong.
“Fear when it terminates in itself, is a painful and contemptible pas-
sion; but, properly applied, may be sanctified to a noble use. That use
our blessed Saviour has pointed out to me. If the fear of God influ-
ences me to correct whatever would tend to deprive me of his favour
and protection, what else shall I have to fear ! Whatever be the event of
the present alarming dangers to me, if I do not forfeit my hope in the
Divine Goodness, it will certainly be happy. Though the earth trem-
ble beneath my feet, my soul will be immovably fixed on ‘the Rock of
Ages;’ and when the sword hangs over my head, I shall “acquaint my-
self with God, and be at peace.’”
Letter to —.
“It is difficult to discover what beneficial effects would have been
produced, if the truth of Christianity, instead of being left to the deduc-
tions of reason, and the concurrence of the will, had been rendered as
self-evident as the existence of the Supreme Being. It must still have
depended on the choice of each individual, what degree of attention
should have been bestowed on the subject.
“But let us suppose that it had been so ordered, that every one to
whom the Gospel is proposed, should be necessarily and instantaneous-
ly convinced of its truth, would this conviction universally produce
those consequences in action which would answer the design of the re-
velation ? Certainly not ; any more than the conviction of the being of
God had before produced obedience to his will.
“It would be to no purpose, then, to stop here : we must proceed a
step further, and wish that all mankind were under a necessity, not
only of believing the Gospel, but of practising it likewise. Now, in
this case, it is evident there could be no use in any revelation, since the
same necessity that would compel us to act right with a revelation,
might answer the same purpose without it. Our wish, then, must be
at last reduced to this single point, that all the power of thinking or of
acting might be totally removed.
“What a delightful view does the accomplishment of such a wish
present to the mind All the disorders arising from intelligent perverse-
ness at once prevented ; all moral evil banished from the universe ;
and all beings proceeding with constant and undeviating rectitude to
their end. In such a system, indeed, it is hard to guess what that end
could be : however, on they would go, no matter whither. To this no-
ble and most desirable alteration of the present constitution of things,
there is, I believe, only one trifling objection ; that it would effectually
annihilate all virtue, all happiness, and all personal identity.
“The very essence of virtue consists in its being a voluntary act of
choice; nor could it exist in circumstances under which any exertion
of the powers of the mind is impossible, and its motion ruled by laws
a.S *y and inevitable as those which regulate the beating of the
pulse.
“Happiness is as inconsistent with necessity as virtue is, on which hap-
piness depends. The first and highest instance of happiness, arising
from the intercourse between created intelligence and the Supreme
MRS. ELIZABETH CARTER. 511
Being, must in a great measure be lost. There could be no exercise for
our voluntary obedience to his power and wisdom; no voluntary ex-
pression of gratitude to his goodness; no reference of our actions to him;
no self-approbation arising from a submission of our own wills to his; nor
any consequent hope of his favour. All happiness arising from the
connexion of human creatures with each other would be equally lost:
there could be no reciprocation of affection, but all social pleasures
must vanish with the moral qualities on which they are founded.
“But, on the supposition of necessity, in what state would the soul
be, considered as an individual '! In no state of personal existence at
all : the action to which it is impelled by unavoidable necessity, is no
more his, than it is the action of B. or of C. Indeed, it is, properly speak-
ing, no action at all; nor could any more consciousness be excited by it,
than we should feel for the impressions made by a hammer on an an-
vil. *
Eatract from a Letter to ©
“To consider the Gospel merely as a subject of speculation, which
we are at liberty to examine or let aloné just as our other avocations
will allow, is not having such a sense of its awful importance as gives
room to expect any satisfaction from the inquiry. To examine it more
diligently, and more in earnest, yet, entirely with a confidence in our
own understanding, is not having a proper sense of human weakness.
Religion is a most solemn transaction between God and the soul, found-
ed on every relation in which we stand to him; and it is only by keep-
ing up a perpetual intercourse with him, and by an endeavour to form,
not only our outward behaviour, but the whole internal frame of our
mind, with a reference to his approbation, that we can become sufficient-
ly divested of all wrong tendencies, to be duly qualified to judge of the
truth of any revelation proposed in his name.
“Those who sincerely wish to make his will the first object of their
choice, who submit their understanding to his direction, and implore
and depend on his assistance to guard them from error, his goodness
will never suffer to be fatally misled; and they will enter on the inquiry
with a full security of obtaining every degree of conviction which is ne-
cessary to their virtue and their peace. So true, I believe, is the posi-
tion, that conviction depends on the heart, that I think you will not,
in the whole circle of your observation, find a single instance of a person
whose heart was disposed in the manner which I have described, who
ever continued an unbeliever.
“With regard to the nature of conviction, it should be carefully ob-
served, that though necessarily existing truths, and such as are con-
veyed to us by our senses, strike us by an irresistible impulse, no such
effect ought to be expected in the examination of historical facts, or of
the moral truths which, in their very nature, can rest only on probable
and reasonable proofs. The degree of conviction arising from these
must necessarily be very different, according to the difference of their
own circumstances, and the different turn of mind in those to whom
they are addressed. In cases where there appears no absurdity or con-
tradiction, and where the subject is of infinite importance, where all
is safe on one side of the question, and there is dreadful danger on
the other, however faint the evidence may appear, common sense will
512 MEMOIRS OF
justify the taking it for granted, as we do innumerable other truths, or
the business of life must stand still. Those who proceed upon this
supposition, and form the whole system of their lives accordingly, upon
a principle of obedience to God, and as a proof of their readiness to ac-
cept the conditions of salvation offered by the Gospel, if it be indeed a
revelation of his will, cannot fail of finding the evidence grow stronger
in proportion as they advance in that sanctity of heart and manners
which it prescribes.
“Did the great truths of Christianity engage our attention with the
same force as those which concern the objects of our interest, and of our
attention to the commerce of the world, we should, without hesitation,
think it reasonable to admit them upon the same principles; but we are
too apt to consider religion as something external, and merely a sub-
ject of speculative curiosity, on which we are at liberty to play all the
tricks of our understanding, in a manner which would strike us as an in-
stance of the highest absurdity, if it was applied to the common affairs of
life. The difference which we make in the two cases, arises only from
our own prejudices, for the Supreme Being deals with us alike in both ;
that is, in exact conformity with the nature he has given us, which is
that of reasonable creatures, whose assent is to be determined by rea-
sonable arguments, and not to be kept in eternal suspense by refusing
to admit the mostprobable side of a question, only because it cannot solve
all the difficulties with which every question, to every understanding
below omniscience must be attended.”
O N G O O D FR I D A Y.—A FRAGMENT.
* At this solemn season, which commemorates an event so interest-
ing to every believer, the serious subjects which exclude from our
thoughts the idle hurry and trifling pursuits of the world, give a higher
refinement and delicacy to all the virtuous affections of the heart ; and,
while they teach us a contempt of all the little earth-born interests and
cares, whose duration is circumscribed by the narrow circle of time,
increase our sense of the value of those which, by a proper improvement,
will continue to form part of our happiness through the unlimited ages
of eternity.
“To all who believe the Gospel, it must give an inexpressible delight,
that those sentiments of affection to which we owe our most exquisite
pleasure, were sanctified by many instances in the history of Him whose
whole conduct is proposed for our unerring example ; who, amidst the
sufferings of a violent and painful death, felt all the tenderest sensi-
bilities of social love, and employed some of the latest moments of ex-
piring life in expressing his concern for a parent, and his confidence in
a friend.
“There is no doubt but he, who had so often made use of a miracu-
lous interposition in other cases, might have made use of the same in-
strument to render all mortal care unnecessary. But the exertions of
his power as the Son of God, could not have afforded so much use and
consolation to his followers, as his giving, in every possible instance, an
example of the virtues of the Son of man.
“Amidst all those delightful contemplations which the hopes of
immortality inspire, it is impossible for a heart devoted to particular at-
MRS. ELIZABETH CARTER. 513
tachments, hot to feel the most exquisite pleasure in the prospect of im-
proving and perpetuating these sentiments. This, like every other
blessing, must be incomplete in a world destined for the exercise, not
the reward, of virtue. Amidst the rough trials of probationary life, the
fondest attachments must often be deprived of that pleasure which they
are fitted to bestow. The various duties of different situations must often
occasion tedious interruptions of all personal intercourse, which would
be most severely felt, if it was confined within the narrow space allotted
between our capacity of forming a choice, and the final dissolution of
every mortal tie. But, were the commerce ever so uninterrupted, all
human connexions must partake of the imperfection of those beings
between whom they are formed, under the most favourable circumstan-
ces ; must consist in a participation of each others’ sufferings, and a
mutual toleration of their defects.”
A MORNING | PRAYER.
“O God, my merciful Father, I humbly thank Thee for preserving
me in safety the past night, for refreshing me with quiet sleep, and rais-
ing me in health and peace to the enjoyment of a world which Thou hast
made so beautiful, and in which Thou hast allotted me such innumerable
mercies. I bless Thee for all the comforts of my life; for health and
plenty, good parents, kind relations, and kind friends. I beg of Thee
to bless and reward them, and to make me dutiful and grateful to
them,
“Under a sense of my own weakness, I beg the assistance of thy
Holy Spirit, to enable me to resist the dangerous temptations and bad
examples of the world, the wrong dispositions of my own heart and
temper, and the snares of Satan. I humbly beseech Thee to take my un-
experienced youth under thy protection. Keep me, O Lord, from pre-
sumption and vanity; from idle dissipation and extravagant expenses.
Impress on my soul a constant regard to that awful account of all my
thoughts, words, and actions, which I must give to Thee at the dreadful
day of judgment. Grant me a firm persuasion that all my peace of
mind here, and my happiness hereafter, must depend on my improve-
ment in piety, and in the duties of a Christian life. Teach me to rely
with perfect dependence upon Thee, who alone knowest what is truly
good for me; and dispose me to cheerful contentment in whatever con-
dition Thou seest fit to place me.
“I beseech Thee to guard me this day from all danger, particularly
from the greatest of all evils, the doing of any thing displeasing to Thee.
I humbly offer up all my petitions in the name, and through the inter-
cession, of my blessed Saviour, who has taught me, when l pray, to say,
“Our Father,” &c.
65.
MR s. SARAH TRIMMER.
w
MRs. TRIMMER was the daughter of Joshua and Sarah Kirby, and was
born at Ipswich, Jan. 6, 1741. From her father, who was a man of
great piety, she imbibed the purest sentiments of religion, and at an
early period of life acquired the knowledge of the fundamental princi-
ples of Christianity. Under the instruction of Mrs. Justinier, a woman
of elegant manners and refined sentiments, she acquired the usual fe-
male accomplishments. Her studies were chiefly directed to English
and French. From the latter language she found great pleasure in
translating, which she did with great accuracy. She frequently said
it was that practice, which, by giving her choice of words, and facility
of expression, led the way to her becoming an author.
At the age of fourteen, she left her native town, with her father
and mother, to settle in London, where Mr. Kirby had the honour of
teaching perspective to the then Prince of Wales. Here his daughter
enjoyed the society of some eminent literary men, especially of Dr.
Samuel Johnson, by whom she was favoured with particular notice,
and Dr. Gregory Sharp. By the removal of her father to Kew in 1759,
on his being appointed clerk of the works at that place, she first became
acquainted with Mr. Trimmer, to whom she was married at the age
of twenty-one, with the approbation of all her friends. From the peri-
od of her marriage till she became an author, she devoted almost the
whole of her time to domestic duties, especially in nursing and educa-
ting her children. Mrs. Trimmer became the mother of six sons and
six daughters; and the comfort which she derived from them when
grown to years of maturity, compensated the labour and anxiety be-
stowed upon their childhood.
As a mistress, Mrs. Trimmer was kind and considerate, never losing
sight of the best interests of her servants. Her domestic concerns were
so regulated, that though she had a young family, each of her servants
had an opportunity of frequenting the house of God once at least on
every Sabbath. Indeed, she often contrived that they should attend both
morning and evening service, and she devoted a part of the Sunday
evening to instructing them. She manifested great anxiety for their
welfare, whether they continued under her roof, or were removed into
other families. Of this, the following extract from her Meditations,
on the dismission of a young man from her service, whom she had taken
great pains to instruct, is a striking instance. “Thou knowest, bless-
ed Lord, the zeal and sincerity of heart with which I have admonished
my servants; with what regret I part from one who may not meet again
with a friend who will take pains to train him in the way in which he
should go. O Lord! I beseech thee, give to him the help of thy Holy
Spirit, and impress on his mind those instructions which he may have
received from me, or from others; and let him not be drawn away, by
the Vanities of the world, into the paths of destruction. O that I may
* MRS. SARAH TRIMMER. 515
*;
have a household serving God, and loving one another Adorable
Saviour ! may every heart in my family be thine ! O may thy blessed
gospel have its due efficacy with every one of us, through the help of
thy Holy Spirit !” 4 *
Mrs. Trimmer very properly considered that there was nothing more
conducive to the happiness and comfort of man, than the observance of
the Sabbath. Still, the day was not marked by her as a day of gloom
and severity, but a day of rest, peace, and satisfaction. It was always,
however, a cheerfulness which accorded with its sanctity. It was
spent by her in frequenting the house of God, in teaching the children
of the poor, in instructing her own household, and in the exercises of
private, personal devotion.
Her views with regard to this sacred day, are strongly expressed in
her Meditations. “What a blessing to sinful, sorrowing mortals, is
the Sabbath ! though I cannot, from the infirmity of my nature, always
attain to the full enjoyment of it. My cares are suspended, my hopes
are enlarged; I take a view, though imperfect, of the future world; I
hold communion with the Father of spirits; I feel the love of my Sa-
viour, and the inward consolations of the Holy Spirit.”
In another place she says: “How quickly do the Sabbaths return,
those seasons of rest and spiritual comfort | A seventh part of our time
on earth is taken from the days of toil and care, and blessed and sancti-
fied by the God of all goodness, for the recreation and benefit of our
souls, and that we may have a foretaste of heavenly bliss. To me
the Sabbath is a welcome day, and I bless God for the institution of it.”
The participation of the Lord’s Supper was a duty which she frequently
observed. Of its efficacy she entertained a high opinion, and found great
comfort and refreshment of soul in approaching the table of the Lord.
Mrs. Trimmer cherished the most benevolent feelings for all who
were in distress, but was particularly anxious to procure assistance for
persons in the Christian ministry, who were, from unavoidable circum-
stances, struggling with difficulties. In this pious work, she met with
assistance from others, more powerful than herself. At one time, a gen-
tleman, who had the disposal of a legacy designed for the indigent
clergy, or their families, applied to her to recommend proper objects;
by which means she had the satisfaction of being useful to several wor-
thy and respectable persons. At another time, a benevolent friend,
who apprepriated a very considerable sum of money annually to the same
charitable purpose, requested her advice and assistance in the disposal'
of it, and thus contributed greatly to her happiness. She cultivated a
habit of early rising, which she found useful in various ways. • Devo-
tional exercises employed the first part of her time thus well redeemed.
In her Meditations, at a time when she was writing on sacred subjects,
she thus expresses herself: “O Divine Saviour ! it is not my wish to
waste those hours in sleep, which ought to be passed in watchfulness
and prayer. It is my highest pleasure to rise early to pursue my de-
lightful work: at midnight I would rise to praise my God and Saviour.
I would watch with thee, blessed Lord, not one hour only, but my whole
life, could I but do it: the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. My
nature requires repose. I must wait for eternity before I can be always
awake and ready for the service of my God.”
Her conversation was very pleasing and instructive ; it had not the
º MEMOIRs of
statincture of affectation or pretension. Humility was one of the lead-
“. .ing features in her character, and it was apparent both in her counte-
is
hance and conversation. It miglit truly be said of her, that she was an
Israelite indeed, in whom was no guile: gy
Of her love and veneration for the Bible, no one can doubt who is
at all acquainted with her writings. On this subject she thus writes in
her Meditations: “What an inestimable treasure is thy Gospel ! O,
Divine Saviour, what would have become of all mankind without thee!
How much would all the troubles of life have been increased to me, but
for the knowledge of thy Gospel ! Lord, it is in my estimation the
pearl of inestimable value. I have sought for it as for hidden treasure;
and, under the guidance of Divine grace, I have happily found it. I
would not part with it for all that this world, and a thousand such
worlds, can give. And yet, O Divine Lord! I highly value the bless-
ings with which this world is adorned by the hand of the great Creator.
As for all its pomps and vanities, I despise them: they have no charms
for a soul longing for heavenly joys.” +º
The failings of her fellow-creatures she always covered with a man-
tle of charity, uniformly endeavouring to put the most favourable con-
struction both upon their words and actions. Her favourite maxim
was, that a Christian should carefully avoid saying any thing to the
prejudice of others, unless when it was necessary for the honour of God,
or the good of men. And to this rule she so steadily adhered, that she
would take herself severely to task for any deviation from it.
The forgiveness of injuries was a quality which she possessed and ex-
ercised in no common degree. She was ready not only to do good to
such as injured her, but to pray for those who despitefully used her;
and was never so happy as when she could show kindness to any from
whom she had received ill treatment, or confer some favour on one
who had offended her.
That all mankind might be partakers of salvation, and the name of
God be praised from the rising to the setting sun, was the subject of
her ardent desire and fervent prayer; and the promotion of these im-
fºr; objects formed no small part of the occupation and joy of her
ife. When, on one occasion, the ordinances of God had been slighted,
and the Divinity of Christ denied, she thus expresses herself; “O
that the whole race of mankind would unite in paying the homage and
adoration that are justly due ! that they would acknowledge thee as
King of kings, and Lord of lords ! I am very jealous for thine ho-
nour, Lord God of Hosts. Mine eyes gush out with water, because msn
dishonour thy name. But, alas ! they know not what they do. May
Divine grace bring them to a proper sense of their duty l’’
She greatly delighted in contemplating the beauties of nature, and
this she did with a spirit truly devotional. “When my soul,” she says,
“is filled with admiration, love, and gratitude, in viewing the beauties
of creation, I anticipate in some degree the happiness of a future state.”
Again : “This world is a world of tribulation ; yet, it is a world of
comfort and consolation too ; and it is a world of hope; and heavenly
Pleasure may, as I conceive, be tasted in it in some degree. O, it is
certainly a great blessing to be brought into existence out of nothing,
and to be Plaº in such a world as this 1 With what beauties does
it abound ! How delightful is the society of the good! How sweet
MRS. SARAH TRIMMER, 517
the tender intercourse of relationship and friendship! What knowledge
may be acquired And then, what glories are revealed from heaven,
and held out to future expectation It is a goodly world, though evil
be sown in it. But what is this to the world beyond the grave Of
that my poor faculties can form but a faint idea. What stages there
may be betwixt earth and the highest heaven, in which the majesty of
God is seen, I cannot conceive; but it is evident from Scripture, that
there is a Paradise in which those who die in the Lord rest from their
labours, and their works do follow them.” *
She enjoyed great peace of mind. In various parts of her Medita-
tions, and under trials of different kinds, she thus expresses herself:
“What an inestimable gift was that which our Divine Lord bestowed
upon his followers, before he left the world—peace, that peace which
passeth all understanding ! Yes, I can bear witness to the reality of
my Saviour’s bequest. How often has my mind experienced the delight
and comfort of this heavenly peace How could I gain tranquillity,
how could I be comforted under the sense of sins, and the pressure of
worldly cares, were it not for this blessed peace?”
The manners of this excellent woman accorded with the simplicity of .
her character, and were at once mild and gentle, modest and unassum-
ing. There was a dignity in her deportment, arising rather from her
real worth than from any consciousness of it in herself; and it was
almost impossible to avoid treating her with the respect she deserved.
Yet, those who approached her with most veneration, were, upon further
acquaintance, equally bound to her by the ties of affection and re-
gard.
Mrs. Trimmer’s numerous works have endeared her name more es-
pecially to the young. Her largest work is a Scripture History in six
volumes. The series of Grecian, Roman, English, and Bible Stories,
which appeared under her name, accompanied with prints, has probably
had as large a circulation as any book of the class ever published. Be-
sides these, her Introduction to the Knowledge of Nature, her inimitable
History of the Redbreast Family, and her Scripture Lessons, have all
acquired a permanent popularity. Mrs. Trimmer conducted for some
time a periodical publication under the title of the Guardian of Educa-
tion, which had for its especial object, to watch over the interests of the
rising generation. It comprised original papers and a review of elemen-
tary and children’s books, and extended to three octavo volumes. Few
writers of her day have been, on the whole, more useful, or more deser-
vedly popular. All her works bear the stamp of simplicity of intention;
and while their author disclaimed all literary pretension, they exhibit
abundant proofs of a strong, well-cultivated, and above all, a pious mind.
On the 15th of December, 1810, Mrs. Trimmer, having nearly attain-
ed what, in the language of the Psalmist, is called the age of man, was
gently summoned to brighter regions, with scarcely an hour's previous
illness, and without any symptoms that could alarm the family. As she
was sitting in her study, in the chair in which she was accustomed to
write, she bowed her head upon her bosom, and yielded her spirit into
the hands of her Creator and Redeemer. Her children, who had seen
her occasionally take repose in this way, could scarcely persuade them-
selves that she was not sunk in sleep; and it was not till after some time,
that they could be made to believe that it was the sleep of death.
518 MEMOIRS OF
We shall close this brief memoir with a selection from her Journal, in
which she has recorded her religious views and feelings in a manner
that cannot fail to instruct and gratify the reader.
.* Feb. 12, 1786–Blessed Jesus, I am this day going to renew my
baptismal vow at thy holy table; to testify my allegiance to thee, my
heavenly King; to profess my faith in the redemption thou hast pur-
chased for thy faithful servants. Wouchsafe, O Lord! to assist me by
thy Holy Spirit in this solemn act. Keep me from vain, wandering
thoughts; raise my affections, animate my heart, and let me feel the
efficacy of this Divine institution. I love thee, my blessed Saviour ! My
heart feels gratitude unutterable I yield myself to thy guidance. O
Lord I look forward with confidence and hope to that eternal inheri-
tance which thou hast prepared for those that believe in thy name, and
live agreeably to thy precepts.”
“May 28, 1787.—I yesterday experienced one of the greatest plea-
sures this world can afford, in hearing the praises of my great Redeemer
sung in the most exalted strains in Westminster Abbey. Nothing was
wanting to complete the enjoyment, but the idea of its being an office
of general devotion, instead of a mere public amusement. To myself,
and I deubt not to hundreds besides, it was an act of fervent devotion.
Blessed Jesus ! thou knowest with what heartfelt satisfaction I lifted up
my thoughts to thee. Lord, I now acknowledge, and it is the joy of my
life to repeat the acknowledgment, that thou art worthy to be praised.
Honour, and glory, and power, be unto thee for ever and ever.”
“Oct. 27, 1788.—This year, as far as it passed away, has been a
year of great blessings. The troubles and cares to which humanity is
ever subject, have been mixed with them, but they have been small in
comparison of what we have suffered in former years. With gratitude
to God for his grace and mercy through Jesus Christ, I can now say,
that I feel much less affected than formerly with worldly evils: they
agitate me with apprehension for a little while, and then give way to
the peace of God, which takes possession of my soul. Very often, in
the midst of perplexities, I find an inward assurance that no harm
shall happen to me while I persevere in the ways of holiness. This
kindles a resolution to continue to seek the kingdom of God and his
righteousness, and a trust in God for the performance of his promise,
that He will never leave nor forsake those who so trust in him. What
can this be but the operation of the Holy Ghost the Comforter P’
“Jan. 1, 1790.-I could wish to note the minutes as they pass, and
correct, from day to day, what has been amiss; but this is impossible.
Let me, however, take a retrospect of the last year. Thanks to Al-
mighty goodness, it has been a prosperous, and, upon the whole, a hap-
py one ; and I trust I have made some progress in Christian virtue.
But, alas ! I still fall greatly short of what many have attained to ;
but I resolve, for the time to come, to use my best endeavours to do
the will of my heavenly Father; to honour my blessed Redeemer; and
to obey the dictates of the Holy Spirit. Every day’s experience con-
vinces me more and more that there is an overruling Providence. I
have been led to see it in numberless instances, both in my own family
and in public occurrences. I have the most lively faith in all the reve-
lations of Divine things contained in the Holy Scriptures; and clearly
see the necessity of Divine grace, and the fallibility of human reason.
MRS. SARAH TRIMMER. 519
I as firmly believe in all that is revealed concerning a future state, as if
I beheld these glorious things with my eyes; and I acknowledge
the infinite goodness of God in revealing them. I esteem, above all
that this world can give, the high prize which is set before me. I con-
template with love inexpressible the goodness of my Saviour in dying
for mankind; and I trust in his merits alone for salvation.
“O blessed Lord! it is my desire to follow thy Divine example, as
far as the infirmities of human nature will permit ; and to continue
thy faithful disciple till death. Thou knowest that I put not my trust
in any thing that I do ; my reliance for mercy, my hopes of eternal
life, are founded on thy merits. O Lord, keep me thine evermore
O hear thou in heaven, thy dwelling-place 1 Reject not my humble
petition. Lord, I desire to devote to thy service a large portion of my
time : not for the indulgence of vain desires do I covet leisure ; but I
ardently wish to maintain thine honour in this degenerate age, and to
teach the rising generation to know thee as thou art.
“O Lord, what an honour is this which I am now enjoying; holding
converse, as it were, with my Maker | I lift up my heart to thee with
humble adoration and thanksgiving, and trust thou lookest down upon
me with complacency and love, O that I could fulfil the will of my
heavenly Father as the angels do 1 May I, after this life is ended, be
admitted into their blessed society 1 May I see my Saviour ! Adorable
Jesus ! whom my soul honours with the highest veneration, accept my
humble services ! Enable me, by thy Holy Spirit, to assert thy Divi-
nity, and help me to establish thy true faith among the young and ig-
norant. I devote myself to thee. I desire to offer up myself to thy
guidance. May thy grace, the love of God the Father, and the fellow-
ship of the Holy Ghost, be with me, and all who are near and dear to
me, this night and for ever. Let us close our eyes in peace, and rise
with renewed strength to perform the duties of our respective stations.
“Lord, if I know this heart of mine, I would lay down my life, rather
than deny thee to be the Son of God. O Lord, dwell in my soul accord-
ing to thy promise to thy faithful servants. Purge me as a branch
belonging to thee, the True Wine ; but let me not be cut off, and cast
into the fire.”
“Oct. 9, 1791.-Since I wrote last, what sorrows have I endured :
what mercies have been granted to me ! se
“I went back to Margate the 18th of July, in order to take care of
my dear boy; but the first sight of him filled me with apprehensions
that all my care would be ineffectual ; he appeared the marked victim
of death. For three weeks I endured, at times, the most agonizing
perturbation of mind ; but I constantly had recourse to prayer : and as
often as I sought help from above, it was graciously granted me. I fled
to my Saviour, and most humbly and earnestly implored him to restore
my dear child, if it was the Divine will that his life should be granted
to my prayers; or to mitigate his sufferings, and enable me, and my
dear husband and children, to submit, as became us, to the dispensa-
tions of Providence. My first petition was rejected; my dear, dear child
was taken from me on the 28th of August. But, praised and adored be
the God of all mercies for his unspeakable goodness to me and my fellow-
mourners He graciously poured the balm of consolation most abun-
dantly into all our hearts. O may I never forget what I so often expe-
520 MEMOIRS OF
Aft
rienced, when, with a heart full of grief and apprehension, I fell down
before him How kindly did he speak peace to my afflicted soul by the
secret whispers of his Holy Spirit, which suggested every sentiment
and thought proper for a Christian under those circumstances ; recall-
ing to my mind particular promises recorded in the Scriptures to induce
a trust in God ; assuring me of the favour of God ; raising hopes
that my dear child would be received to a life of endless happiness; in
short, reconciling me to the stroke that was prepared to fall upon me,
and teaching me to regard it as given in mercy, not in anger. O Lord,
how can I describe thy loving-kindness I am in my nature a poor
weak creature ; my reasoning powers are too apt to give ground at every
alarm ; the shadow of misfortune fills me with apprehension ; my
spirits are all in a tumult with the merest trifles. Yet, I beheld with
composure a most tenderly and deservedly beloved child on his deathbed.
I saw him, with calmness and composure I saw him, shrinking away
from mortality, reduced to a mere skeleton, and ready to expire. I was
enabled in this trying hour to say, (and I hope from the bottom of my
heart,) “ Not my will, but thine, O Lord, be done.” Blessed Saviour, I
love thee better than I love even my own dear child: rather than depart
from my duty as a Christian, I yield him up—I resign him. O receive
him to thyself ſ”
“Jan. 1, 1793. Let me call to mind the blessings I am now in pos-
session of. At the head of these, let me place a sense of the Divine
favour ; a well-grounded hope that God regards me as his child, for
Jesus Christ’s sake ; an humble persuasion that the Saviour of the
world reckohs me among his faithful servants. O what inestimable
blessings are these ! Praised be the God of all goodness, the fountain
of these unspeakable, these inestimable blessings 1 May I never forfeit
them by disobedience 1 May I retain them to the end of life 1 May I
carry them out of the world with me ! These are not of a perishable na-
ture ; these are the seeds of everlasting blessings ſ”
“March 17. I am not eager after worldly gain ; my desires are fix-
ed on heavenly treasures. The trifles of this world cannot satisfy an
immortal soul. I look forward to the joys that are set before me. O that
I may, for the sake of them, patiently endure the various evils which
I must encounter in the road to them And can I reasonably hope,
that, laden as I am with sins and infirmities, I shall rise to the heavenly
regions, to the abode of angels, to the presence of God º O yes,
praised be thy goodness, adorable Redeemer I thou hast loosened the
burden of my sins ; thou hast borne my infirmities; thou hast made the
requisite atonement; thou hast washed me in thy precious blood . If
I continue faithful till death, thou wilt give me the robe of right-
eousness. I shall for thy sake be justified in the sight of my heavenly
Father. I shall receive the crown of glory ; I shall be put in possession
of an heavenly inheritance; I shall be happy with thee to all eternity.”
“Sept. 1. While I am thus aspiring to join the angelic host, let me
remember what they are, and what I am myself. O God of mercies,
what a difference is there between me, a poor, sinful mortal, and the
lowest angel ! But it will not always be so. No, I shall not always
grovel on this earth : I shall pass the barriers of mortality; I shall as-
cend to the heavenly mansion ; I shall approach the throne of God ; I
shall sing the praises of the Lamb; I shall join the blessed multitude
MRS. SARAH TRIMMER. 521
of all kindreds and all nations. For my Saviour has paid the price of
my redemption. I believe in him, I trust in his all-sufficient sacrifice.
I will continue faithful to death, his grace assisting me, and I shall
finally receive the crown of glory ! Blessed Jesus ! that I may not be
disappointed in the exalted hopes I have formed, vouchsafe to keep and
guide me through this world of temptations. O let not Satan approach to
hurt me ! I hate and abhor all evil works with all my power. But with-
out the aid of the Holy Spirit I can do nothing : of that I am fully sen-
sible. It is my earnest desire, it is my determined purpose, to do the
will of my heavenly Father, and to walk in the way of his command-
ments. O Father of mercies, thou knowest the inmost recesses of my
heart: thou knowest how truly sorry I am, that I should ever do any
thing to offend thee; how desirous I am to amend whatever is amiss
in my disposition and conduct. I most humbly beseech thee, of thine
infinite goodness, to pardon all my sins for Jesus Christ’s sake. O Lord,
if it be thy will to put a period to my mortal life before the morning
light, receive my soul into happiness, for Jesus Christ’s sake. If it be
thy will to continue my existence here, vouchsafe to strengthen me for
the performance of the work, which is the delight and joy of my life.”
“Sept. 27. I am thoroughly convinced of the deadly nature of sin;
and I can truly say, that I abhor all manner of wickedness; so that I
would not deliberately commit any offence against the commandments
of my heavenly Father, for I know they are founded upon justice,
mercy, and goodness. No, blessed Lord far be it from me, thy de-
voted servant, to give my mind to habitual wickedness Yet, alas !
I am often surprised into sin; my infirmities are many and great. I do
not know that Satan has power over me ; I trust he has not, for I abhor
his works; I am not his slave. O Divine Lord ' most earnestly do I de-
sire to follow thy blessed example: I will study it daily. Most earnestly
do I desire to be led by the Holy Spirit. Had I but the power, I would
cast out every desire that is tinctured with corruption. But what can
I do for myself? To thee I flee, blessed Saviour; help me to know
myself. What is there in me, that my heavenly Father disapproves t
O let me know my secret faults; they are not hid from thee, though my
conscience brings them to my remembrance.”
“Feb. 9, 1794. After this retrospect, which I have made with a sin-
cere desire of knowing the present state of my soul, and of calling to
mind the mercies of the past week, I will address my God in humble
prayer. Merciful Father God of all grace and goodness, I bow my
soul before thee, in an humble sense of my own unworthiness and thine
infinite perfection. O Lord, I confess myself a sinner. Alas ! my sins
and offences are innumerable, and I am not worthy to address thy Di-
vine Majesty but through the mediation of my blessed Redeemer, thy
only Son Jesus Christ : for his sake, I beseech thee pardon all my past
offences, and receive me into favour. O Lord, with a grateful heart
I offer thee my humble thanksgivings for all the mercies of the week
past; particularly for the peace and tranquillity which thou hast gra-
ciously afforded me, and for the strength which has been granted me for
the pursuit of my labours. I thank thee, O God, for the success thou hast
graciously given to my plan for the benefit of the poor. O vouchsafe to
continue and increase it, and give me the heart to make a proper use of
what thy bountiful hand bestows. Let me not be vain and conceited;
66
522 MEMOIRS OF ..
let me not be puffed up with the applauses of men. Thy Divine ap-
probation ought to be my first object; thy glory, my principal aim.”
“July 13. Welcome sweet hours of retirement, devoted to pious
meditation welcome sweet hours of retirement, in which I can commune
with my own heart, and be still ; in which I can commune with my
God and Saviour, and anticipate in some degree the enjoyments of
heaven O, Almighty Father, dearly do I love thy law; highly do I
prize thy word; most earnestly do I desire to do thy holy will on earth.
Most fervently do I hope to find admittance to thy glorious presence in
heaven, when I quit this mortal state. Yet, alas ! holy Father, how un-
worthy am I of the honour and blessedness to which I aspire | I am
conscious, O Lord God, of my manifold sins and infirmities. I know
that I am not worthy of the least of all thy mercies; that I have in
numberless instances offended against thy holy laws. But I have an all
powerful Intercessor with thee, on whose merits alone my hopes of pardon
and acceptance are fixed. Holy Father, vouchsafe to pardon me for my
dear Redeemer’s sake O Divine Lord, Son of the Father, Lamb of
God, that takest away the sins of the world, receive the prayer which I
now offer unto thee as the Mediator between God and mankind. Dear
and beloved Saviour, have compassion upon me; plead for me ; cover
me with the robe of thy righteousness.”
“March 17, 1797. I have read part of Bishop Beveridge’s Resolu-
tions, and I agree with him in resolving to make it my chief business here
on earth, to prepare for my eternal state, and to walk circumspectly in
those blessed paths of faith and obedience which God himself has gra-
ciously pointed out as leading to his heavenly kingdom. I have long
since chosen the land of Canaan, the kingdom of Christ, as the lot of
my inheritance, the only seat of bliss and glory for my soul to rest and
dwell in to all eternity. O most gracious God, who that has read and
reflected upon the glories revealed in thy written word, can make any
other choice Can any one deliberately prefer earth to heaven'ſ Can
any one deliberately refuse everlasting life and happiness for the sake of
the transitory pleasures of this mortal state 4 I am truly thankful to
thy Divine goodness, that thou hast formed me what I am, a mortal
being, and Splaced me where I am, on this earth, which is so wisely
adapted to the wants of such creatures as mankind, through which they
must pass as probationers for eternal happiness. But I will not cling
to this earth; I will not regard it as my abiding place. No, most holy,
most glorious God, I will strive, by using the means of grace which
thou hast graciously afforded to me and my fellow-mortals, to secure the
inheritance thy goodness has provided for me in a better world. I know
that without holiness I must never enter that blessed place; and I
feel that I am a sinner unworthy, from my manifold offences, to gain
admittance there. But my Redeemer has made atonement for my sins;
and thou, O God, hast promised to pardon all who shall truly repent,
and for his sake to receive them to thyself as dear children.”
L AD Y G L E N O R. C. H. Y.
- WILHELMINA MAxwell, Wiscountess Glenorchy, was the younger
of two daughters left by Dr. William Maxwell, of Preston, a gentle-
man of high respectability and large fortune in Galloway, North Britain;
and was born at Preston, Sept. 2, 1741. Dr. Maxwell died four months
before the birth of his youngest daughter; and his widow, (afterwards
Lady Alva,) wishing to perpetuate the name of a husband so dear, call-
ed the fatherless child, Wilhelmina. The eldest daughter was mar-
ried at Edinburgh, in April 1761, to William Earl of Sutherland: the
youngest, who is the subject of these memoirs, was married at London,
some months afterwards, to John Lord Wiscount Glenorchy, only son of
the Earl of Breadalbane.
Lady Glenorchy was only in her twentieth year, when, dazzled with
the fascinations of grandeur, she complied with the wishes of her friends,
who had pushed on this splendid match. With fine talents, which had
been improved by a very liberal and expensive education, she combined
an agreeable person, a temper vivacious and peculiarly formed for hilar-
ity, a considerable share of wit and pleasantry, and every accomplish-
ment which could render her an object of admiration in the circles of
fashion. She was esteemed one of the first amateur musicians of
the day, and had a charming voice. The year after her marriage, she
accompanied Lord Glenorchy in a tour through France and Italy, where
they spent about two years. On their return, she became involved in all
the dissipation of high life, till her health began to suffer, and seasons
of indisposition brought leisure for solemn reflections. Early in the
summer of 1765, while at Taymouth Castle in Perthshire, the seat of
the Earl of Breadalbane, she was seized with a dangerous putrid fever.
On her convalescence, a train of serious thoughts and reasonings was pro-
duced, followed by convictions and purposes, which ended in a complete
renovation of heart and of conduct. She had been taught in early
youth that form of sound words which is contained in the Assembly’s
Catechism; and now, the first question and answer occurring to her,
What is the chief end of man P-" The chief end of man is, to glorify
God and to enjoy him for ever”—she was involuntarily led to muse on
the words, and to put to herself the important questions; Have I an-
swered the design of my being 4 Have Iglorified God'ſ Shall I enjoy him
for ever ? On reviewing her life of thoughtless gayety, she could come
to no other conclusion than that there was no connexion between such
conduct, and the glorifying and enjoying of God, and that consequent-
ly, hitherto, she had not answered the chief end of her existence.
The result will best be given in her Ladyship's own words, as contain-
ed in her diary. They occur in the memorandum made on her first birth-
day after the period at which the MS. commences.
* September 2.—I desire this day to humble myself before God, and to
524 MEMOIRS OF
bless him as my Creator, who called me into being from the dust of the
earth; who hath been my preserver in the midst of many dangers; and
who hath, ever since my birth, loaded me with tender mercies and low-
ing-kindnesses. But above all, I would bless his holy name, that he
hath not left me in the state of alienation from him in which I was by
nature, but that he hath of his free grace and mercy brought me out of
darkness, and shown me the glorious light of his gospel, and caused me
to hope for salvation through Jesus Christ. Many a time was he pleased
to convince me of sin in my early years; but these convictions were as
the morning dew that soon passeth away. A life of dissipation and
folly soon choked the good seed. Carnal company and diversions filled
up the place in my soul that was due alone to God. The first twenty
years of my life were spent after the fashion of this world. Led away
by vanity and youthful folly, I forgot my Creator and Redeemer; and
if at any time I was brought by sickness or retirement to serious reflec-
tion, my ideas of God were confused and full of terror: I saw my course
of life was wrong, but had not power to alter it, or to resist the torrent
of fashionable dissipation that drew me along with it. Sometimes I re-
solved to begin a godly life, to give all I had in charity, and to live on-
ly to God;—but I was then ignorant of God’s righteousness, and went
about to establish a sort of righteousness of my own, by which I hoped
to be saved. God was therefore gracious in letting me feel how vain
all my resolutions were, by allowing me to relapse again and again into
a life of folly and vanity. My ignorance of the gospel was then so great,
that I did not like to hear ministers preach much about Jesus Christ; I
saw neither form nor comelinessin him, and thought it would have been
more to the purpose, had they told us what we should do to inherit eter-
nal life. My idea of Christ was, that after I had done a great deal,
he was to make up the rest : this was my religion How marvellous
is thy grace, O Lord 1 to pardon such a worthless creature, who thus
depreciated thy great sufferings and meritorious death, and endeavour-
ed to rob thee of the glory which belongs to thee alone.
“But this was not the only way in which I tried to rob God of
his glory. I claimed great merit in the patience with which he enabled
me to bear the severe trials and afflictions he was graciously pleased
to send upon me, to bend my stubborn heart to his yoke. I thought I
had not deserved such a lot;-and thus I secretly rebelled against
the good will of the Lord. About this time I got acquainted with the
Hawkstone family—some of them had the reputation of being Metho-
dists. I liked their company and conversation, and wished to be as
religious as they were, being convinced that they were right; but I still
loved the world in my heart, and could not think of secluding myself
from its pleasures altogether. I would gladly have found out some
way of reconciling God and the world, so as to save my soul, and keep
some of my favourite amusements. I used many arguments to prove that
balls, and other public places, were useful, and necessary in society,
that they were innocent and lawful, and that the affairs of life could
not go on well without them. The Lord, however, followed me with
convictions. My own thoughts became very uneasy to me, the burden
of my misfortunes intolerable. My health and spirits at last sunk un-
der them, and for some time before ileft off going to public amusements,
(where I appeared outwardly gay and cheerful.j my heart was inward-
LADY GLENORCHY. 525
ly torn with anguish and inexpressible grief. The enemy now suggest-
ed to me, that I had no resource left, but to give myself up entirely to
the gayeties of life, and seek consolation in whatever way it presented
itself, without paying any regard to those maxims of wisdom which
hitherto had kept me within some bounds. To the best of my remem-
brance, it was the very same night in which this thought was suggest-
ed, that I was seized with a fever, which threatened to cut short my
days; during the course of which, the first question of the Assembly’s
Catechism was brought to my mind,-What is the chief end of man'ſ
as if some one had asked it. When I considered the answer to it, To
glorify God and enjoy him for ever, I was struck with shame and con-
fusion. I found I had never sought to glorify God in my life, nor had
any idea of what was meant by enjoying him for ever. Death and
judgment were set before me, my past sins came to my remembrance.
I saw no way to escape the punishment due unto them, nor had I the
least glimmering hope of obtaining the pardon of them through the
righteousness of another. In this dismal state I continued some days,
viewing death as the king of terrors, without a friend to whom I could
communicate my distress, and altogether ignorant of Jesus the friend
of sinners. At this time, the Lord put it into the heart of Miss Hill to
write to me. I received her letter with inexpressible joy, as I thought
she might possibly say something that would lessen my fears of death.
I immediately wrote to her of my sad situation, and begged her advice.
Her answer set me upon searching the Scriptures, with much prayer
and supplication that the Lord would show me the true way of salvation,
and not suffer me to be led into error. One day, in particular, I took
the Bible in my hand, and fell upon my knees before God, beseeching
him with much importunity to reveal his will to me by his word. M
mouth was filled with arguments, and I was enabled to plead with him,
that as he had made me, and given me the desire I then felt to know
him, he would surely teach me the way in which I should walk, and
lead me into all truth, that he knew I only wished to know his will in
order to do it, that I was afraid of being led into error; but as he was
truth itself, his teaching must be infallible. I therefore committed my
soul to him, to be taught the true way of salvation. After this prayer
was finished, I opened the Bible then in my hands, and read part of
the third chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, where our state by na-
ture, and the way of redemption through a propitiatory sacrifice, are set
clearly forth. The eyes of my understanding were opened, and I saw
wisdom and beauty in the way of salvation by a crucified Redeemer.
I saw that God could be just, and justify the ungodly. The Lord Jesus
now appeared to me as the city of refuge, and I was glad to flee to him
as my only hope. This was in summer, 1765. Since that time, I
have had many ups and downs in my Christian course, but have never
lost sight of Jesus as the Saviour of the world, though I have often had
doubts of my own interest in him. I can safely say, that I would not
give up the little knowledge I have of him for any thing on earth.
And although I have already suffered reproach for observing his pre-
cepts, and shortly expect to be scoffed at by all my former acquaintances,
and to have my name cast out as evil, yet I rejoice in that he thinketh
me worthy to bear his cross. And I now beseech thee, O Lord, to ac-
cept of my soul, body, reputation, property, and influence, and every
526 MEMOIRS OF
thing that is called mine, and do with them whatever seemeth good in
thy sight. I desire neither ease, health, nor prosperity, any further
than may be useful to promote thy glory. Let thy blessed will be done
in me, and by me, from this day forth. O let me begin this day to live
wholly to thee. Let thy grace be sufficient for me, and enable me to
overcome the world. And to thee be ascribed the honour and glory,
now and for evermore. Amen and amen.”
Great Sugnal in Staffordshire, where Lord and Lady Glenorchy some-
times resided, is at no great distance from Hawkstone ; and the fami-
lies had by these means become acquainted with each other, so far as to
exchange visits. At this period, several of the younger branches of the
Hawkstone family, Mr. Richard Hill, the Rev. Rowland Hill, Miss Hill,
and a younger sister, afterwards Mrs. Tudway, were decidedly pious;
and they bore and braved the reproach ordinarily drawn down by a reli-
gious character, from the thoughtless, the formal, and the profligate.
Lady Glenorchy was not yet twenty-four, and Miss Hill was not much
older, when, by this correspondence, their slight intimacy was ripened
into a warm and permanent friendship. Nothing could be more judi-
cious, faithful, or affectionate, than the first letter which Miss Hill wrote
in answer to the unexpected communication from Lady Glenorchy, in
which her once gay friend laid open the agitated and anxious state of
her feelings under deep religious convictions. By the blessing of God,
that letter was attended by the happiest effect: it was the means employ-
ed by Divine Grace to rescue her from despondency, and to direct her
to the “city of refuge.” From that moment, without conferring with
flesh and blood, Lady Glenorchy resolutely turned her back on the dis-
sipated world, and devoted herself, and all that she could command or
influence, without reserve, to the service of her Redeemer, and the glory
of God. The correspondence between these friends, which was carried
on without interruption from 1765 to 1768, was doubtless of the utmost
benefit to both. None of Lady Glenorchy’s letters, however, have been
preserved : they were probably destroyed by Miss Hill, who survived her
only a few years, on account of their containing much delicate com-
Iſlunloat.10n.
Her Ladyship passed the winter of 1765-6 in London and Bath,
where every means was employed to induce her to return to the circles
of dissipation : but neither severity nor artifice, both of which were put
in practice, could divert her from her steadfastness. We find Miss Hill,
in one of her letters, congratulating her on the resolution and fortitude
she had displayed in resisting all places of public amusement at Bath,
from a consciousness of the vast danger she was in of being again en-
tangled in the world. Lord Breadalbane, her father-in-law, although
he did not enter into Lady Glenorchy's views in matters of religion,
highly respected her integrity and talents, and entertained for her to his
latest hour the warmest esteem. But she was exposed to much that
was painful and trying from other quarters, and was visited with some
severe domestic trials. The loss of her only sister Lady Sutherland, in
1766, must have been aggravated to her by the melancholy circum-
stances attending it. The death of their eldest daughter had so deeply
* Wide “The Life of the Right Hon. Wilhelmina, Viscountess Glenorchy. By T. S. Jones:
. D., Minister of her Chapel, Edinburgh.” 8vo, 1822. To which we have been indebted
r many valuable and interesting particulars.
LADY GLENORCHY. 527
affected Lord and Lady Sutherland, that leaving their seat at Dunrobin,
they repaired to Bath, to seek relief in a change of scene and the amuse-
ments of the gay world ; but they found it not. Soon after their arrival,
his Lordship was seized with a putrid fever, with which he struggled for
fifty-four days, and then expired. . The first one and twenty days and
nights, his Countess never left his bedside ; but at length, overcome
with fatigue and anxiety, she sank a victim to her affection and fidelity,
seventeen days before the death of her Lord. Lady Alva, her mother,
uninformed of the event, was on her way to join her daughter at Bath,
when, alighting from her carriage at an inn, she saw two hearses stand-
ing. On inquiring whose remains they contained, she was told they
were those of Lord and Lady Sutherland, on their way to the royal cha-
pel of Holyrood-house.
The winter of 1766–7, Lady Glenorchy passed in the country, at a
distance from all her religious friends, deprived of almost every out-
ward means of religious instruction or comfort, and exposed, thus
singly, to all the odium and unkind accusation which the singulari-
ty of consistent piety never fails to provoke. Every effort appears
to have been made to reason or to laugh her out of her conviction. She
was charged with hypocrisy and superstition; and she felt these reproach-
es with an acuteness which occasioned the most poignant distress. Her
health appears at length to have been affected by the conflict of her feel-
ings. But her mild perseverance and resignation appear to have met
with their reward. She never lost her influence over Lord Glenorchy,
and at length obtained his tacit acquiescence in her plans. On her re-
turn to Taymouth in the summer of 1767, she frequently invited clergy-
men to the castle, to conduct domestic worship, and to preach on the
Lord's day, after canonical hours, to the household and as many of the
neighbours as chose to attend. When in Edinburgh, she formed one
of a select religious party, who used to meet at first at each other’s
houses, and afterwards at the house of the Rev. Mr Walker, then senior
minister of the High Church at Edinburgh, and colleague to the cele-
brated Dr. Blair. Among the distinguished ladies who used to assem-
ble there, were, the Marchioness of Lothian, the Countess of Leven and
Northesk, Lady Banff, Lady Maxwell, Lady Ross Baillie, and others of
rank and fortune. Mr. Walker, on these occasions, usually either ex-
pounded the Scriptures, or delivered a sermon; and the meetings were
continued weekly by him to the close of his life.
It was about this period, probably at these meetings, that Lady Glen-
orchy contracted that intimacy with Lady Maxwell, which, notwith-
standing their subsequent difference of opinion relative to the Wesleyan
preachers, continued unbroken to the close of her life. The Diary, to
which we have already referred, begins abruptly in this same year
(1768.) Lady Glenorchy had previously commenced, however, the prac-
tice of committing to paper her religious sentiments and varied experi-
ence. This document exhibits, in the amplest manner, the fervent piety,
guileless sincerity, and tenderness of conscience, by which this illustri-
ous lady was characterized ; and the practice was no doubt highly con-
ducive to her own edification, and even encouragement, when, by this
means, she was enabled to retrace the dealings of God with her soul,
and to ascertain her progress in the divine life. But her Ladyship's
Diary is open to the objection which lies too generally against these pri-
528 MEMOIRS OF
vate records; that they are more occupied with retracing frames and
feelings, than with those considerations which are adapted to excite and
maintain the feelings that are sought after ; and that thus they have a
tendency to fix the attention of the mind on its own operations, rather
than on the great objects of the believer’s faith and joy.
In the year 1770, Lady Glenorchy first conceived the design, in
union with Lady Maxwell, of opening a place of worship at Edinburgh,
in which ministers of the Gospel of every denomination who held its
essential truths, might preach. With this view she hired St. Mary's
Chapel, which was opened by the Rev. Mr. Middleton; one of the six
students who, a year or two before, had been expelled from Oxford for
attending private religious meetings. This gentleman having received
orders in the Church of England, officiated at this time in a small Epis-
copal chapel at Dalkeith. It was Lady Glenorchy’s intention, that Di-
vine service should be performed on the Lord’s-day evenings, alternate-
ly or indifferently by Presbyterian and Episcopal ministers, and that
one day in the week, Mr. Wesley’s preachers should be allowed the use
of the chapel. The different opinions of the persons employed to offi-
c1ate, never could, however, in the nature of things, coalesce. Large
congregations were collected, and good was done to individuals; but
the design, which was at that time quite novel in Scotland, met with
much disapprobation from the religious public. The ministers of the
Establishment refused to preach in it, on account of the admission of
Mr. Wesley’s preachers, who were by no means generally acceptable.
And at length, soon after the Rev. Mr. De Courcy had accepted the
appointment of domestic chaplain to Lord Glenorchy, and minister
of the chapel, her Ladyship came to the determination to give up all
further connexion with the Wesleyan preachers. Her letter on this oc-
casion to her friend Lady Maxwell, who was the intimate friend and
correspondent of Mr. Wesley himself, deserves to be inserted on account
of the excellent spirit which pervades it.
“Wednesday Evening.
... “My dear Madam,-Your letter gives me real pleasure, as it affords
me some hopes, that you will not wholly withdraw from me that friend-
ship which I hitherto have, and do still esteem a singular blessing. The
taking any step which endangered my losing it, was the greatest act of
self-denial to me; and I do not think any thing less than the clear convic-
tion I have for some time had of the propriety of it, could have supported
me under the struggles I felt between the desire of your approbation,
and what I thought duty to the cause in which I am engaged. I am
sorry if I have offended you by saying, ‘We boasted too much of a
Catholic spirit.” I know that I have found fault with others for being
too narrow-minded, who, I now see, acted from more knowledge of the
religious world than I had ; and I am not ashamed to acknowledge,
that I have in many things acted too hastily, and judged rashly. I
hope the Lord will preserve me from this for the future. By what
I have done, I would not have it supposed that I do not think the
Methodists the people of God. Far be this from me. I only think
they do not all preach pure doctrine, and therefore I would not have
all of them to preach in my chapel; else I should frustrate my inten-
tion in opening it. Though I desire to have it open to every sect and
LADY GLENORCHY. 529
denomination, yet there is but one doctrine I would have taught there,
and it is this, and this alone, which obliges me to do what I have done.
If I have erred, I pray God forgive me; and I trust he will, as it is, I hope,
more from ignorance of his will, than a rebellious spirit. I have now
to beg once more, my dear Madam, that you will continue me some
share of your friendship and prayers. This last you are bound to do
as a Christian, if you think me out of the way of truth. I feel that
I am very ignorant, weak and helpless; and it is my desire that the
will of God may be done in me and by me at all times. Help me then,
by your prayers, to obtain more strength and knowledge of the Lord
Jesus; and I also beg, that you will write to me as often as you can,
and say whatever you think may tend to stir me up to more diligence
in the work of the Lord, or to keep me from that spiritual slumber to
which my heart is very prone. I shall not have time to call on you
before I set out for Taymouth. I pray that the Lord may bless you
with every spiritual blessing, and return a hundred-fold all the prayers
and good offices you have bestowed on your most obliged and affection-
ate friend and servant, W. G.”
In the year 1771, Lady Glenorchy became a widow. His Lordship
had been seized with a fit in the month of October of that year;
alarming symptoms returned in the beginning of November; and on
thé 11th instant, while Mr. De Courcy was praying for him, he expired.
He was aware of his situation, and his last days afforded evidence that
the religious sentiments with which Lady Glenorchy had endeavoured
to impress his mind, had not been lost upon him. Nothing could show
more unequivocally his Lordship's confidence in her, and his affection-
ate sense of her real worth, notwithstanding any difference in their reli-
gious views, than the disposition which he made of his property. His
will gave Lady Glenorchy his whole real or landed estate of the baronies
of Barnton and King's Cramound, and other lands, and all things be-
longing to him, in full right, constituting her sole executrix and legatee;
with full power to convert the whole into money, and to employ or be-
stow the whole or any part “for encouraging the preaching of the Gospel,
and promoting the knowledge of the Protestant religion, erecting schools,
and civilizing the inhabitants in Breadalbane, Glenorchy, and Nether-
house, and other parts of the Highlands,” in such a way and manner
as she shall judge proper and expedient. Of the existence of these
deeds, Lady Glenorchy was completely ignorant till they were produced
after his Lordship's death. She was thus, at the age of thirty, left
her own mistress, with an independent fortune of between two and
three thousand pounds a year, under circumstances which called for
the exercise of all her prudence, firmness, and discretion.
The first use which Lady Glenorchy made of the wealth with
which she found herself thus unexpectedly endowed, was the erection
of a chapel at Edinburgh, which she designed to be in communion
with the Established Church of Scotland. The first stone was laid in
the month of August 1772. It was, however, many years before her
design was fully realized by the settlement of a stated pastor. Early
in the following year, it having been represented to her by the minister
of the parish, that the district of Strathfillan was in urgent need of ad-
ditional means of religious instruction, her Ladyship lost no time in re-
67
530 MEMOIRS OF
pairing the chapel there, endowing it, and placing it under the direction
and patronage of the Society 1I] Scotland for propagating Christian
Knowledge. The chapel still remains, and continues to be useful.
She also procured two missionary preachers of the Scottish Establish-
ment, under the sanction of the same Society, to go at her own expense
through the Highlands and islands of Scotland.
Her Ladyship's charities were very extensive, but many of them
were distributed with such secrecy that the benefactress could hardly
be traced. She sometimes expended hundreds of pounds in relieving
indigence, and placing whole families in situations of comfort and use-
fulness. Her attention was much directed to the most useful of all
charities, the religious education of youth. For this purpose she em-
ployed different teachers of acknowledged piety and abilities, by whom
hundreds of children have been trained up in the knowledge of our holy
religion, and fitted for useful stations in society. Many of them are
now doing honour to their noble benefactress, as teachers in different
departments. Some of them, we trust, are reaping the happy fruits of
a pious education in the heavenly state. And very many indigent
youth will, we hope, be indebted, in like manner, to the means which
she has provided for the benefit of future generations. To her ladyship's
chapel in Edinburgh, is added a free-school, where are taught reading,
writing, and arithmetic, which also she endowed. Many young men
of piety she educated for the Christian ministry. To some able and
faithful ministers, whose congregations were in poor circumstances, she
paid the whole of their salaries; to others, a stated annual sum in part;
to many, occasional donations as she saw needful. In private, the
widow and the fatherless, the stranger and the distressed, experienced
her abundant beneficence. To enable her to prosecute these schemes
of benevolence, she herself carefully looked into all her affairs, and
studied the strictest economy; and though her dress, her table, her at-
tendants, her equipage, always corresponded to her station, yet, she de-
nied herself the splendour which her fortune and rank could well have
afforded and excused.
The state of her health rendering it necessary for her to pass the winter
in a warmer climate, Lady Glenorchy spent the close of 1776, and great
part of the following year, in various parts of the West of England,
where her zeal displayed itself in constant efforts to promote the propa-
gation of the Gospel. At Exmouth, she purchased a house, and fitted
it up as a chapel, in which a congregation of some hundreds was soon
collected. She returned to Edinburgh in the summer, but, from this
period, continued to spend part of every year in the West of England.
In the year 1781, Lady Henrietta Hope, on the death of her father,
the Earl of Hopetoun, took up her abode with Lady Glenorchy; and
the two friends, who were of one heart and mind in all things, went
hand in hand in their labours of benevolence and works of charity.
Though an invalid like herself, Lady Henrietta's happy temper, pru-
dence, and sagacity, rendered her society an invaluable acquisition to
her friend. In passing through Carlisle, this year, on her way from
Buxton, observing an old Presbyterian meeting-house shut up, Lady
Glenorchy, after due inquiry, purchased and endowed it, taking care to
provide an evangelical minister. The meeting-house has since been
enlarged, and continues to flourish. Some years after, being compelled
LADY GLENORCHY. 531
to remain at Matlock over the Sunday, in consequence of the delay oc-
casioned by her carriage having broken down, she found the state of
religion in that village, on inquiry, very low, and immediately determin-
ed on the purchase of a chapel and house adjoining, which she ulti-
mately accomplished. This chapel also has been the means of much
good to the neighbourhood. Hope Chapel, erected at Bristol Hotwells,
was undertaken at the joint expense of Lady Glenorchy and Lady Henriet-
ta. Hope ; but the latter did not live to see her design carried into execu-
tion. She bequeathed 2500l. however, for this purpose, and Lady Glen-
orchy gave it that name in memory of her friend, regarding it as her
most suitable monument. Lady Glenorchy appears also to have been
ºnental in opening a new place of worship somewhere in Devon-
SIREIC.
Lady Henrietta’s death, though not unexpected, was a severe stroke
to her friend; but the separation was but short. In June 1786, Lady
Glenorchy once more set out on her return to Scotland. In her way,
she visited Workington in Cumberland, where, having purchased
ground for the erection of a chapel, she saw the work commenced. On
her arrival at Edinburgh, her friends observed an unfavourable altera-
tion in her appearance. On the 14th of July, she was seized with the
first symptoms of alarming indisposition. In the forenoon of the follow-
ing day, the curtain of her bed being drawn, a relative approaching as
softly as possible to ascertain whether she slept, heard her say, “Well,
if this be dying, it is the pleasantest thing imaginable.” She spoke but
little after this, continuing to sleep softly through that night, and great
part of the following day, till, near noon on the 17th of July, she breath-
ed her last, the attendants being scarcely able to perceive the change.
Her Ladyship was in her forty-fourth year. Her remains were deposit-
ed, agreeably to her own request, in a vault beneath her own chapel at
Edinburgh, where a neat marble slab, with an appropriate inscription,
has been erected by her executrix, Lady Maxwell.
Lady Glenorchy left more than 30,000l. in money, of which she be-
queathed 5000l. to the Society in Scotland for propagating Christian
Knowledge; 5000l. to the Rev. Jonathan Scott, of Matlock, for the
educating of young men for the ministry in England, and other religious
purposes; and to her mother Lady Alva, and other relatives, large
legacies and annuities amounting to half of her fortune. She left a
sealed letter to her executrix, requiring her to finish Hope Chapel at
Bristol Hotwells, and to aid her chapels, and other institutions at Carlisle,
Workington, &c.; which directions werc religiously attended to ; and
not long before her death, Lady Maxwell had completely exhausted all
the funds which Lady Glenorchy had left at her disposal.
LADY HENRIETTA. H. O. P.E.
LADY HENRIETTA Hope, to whom reference has been made in the pre-
ceding memoir, was the eldest daughter of John, Earl of Hopetoun.
Possessed of a strong and clear understanding, which was much improv-
ed by reading, conversation, and deep thought, she gave early presages
of proving highly useful and ornamental to society. The high expec-
tations formed by her friends were not disappointed. She possessed the
nicest moral sense, a heart for friendship, a keen sensibility to human
suffering, with an unceasing desire to relieve, or at least alleviate in
every possible way, the distresses of her fellow-creatures. She was uni-
versally beloved by those among whom she resided. Yet, though
favoured with a mind thus enriched with every moral virtue, united to
the most amiable dispositions and engaging manners, it was not till her
twenty-fifth year that Lady Henrietta Hope began to entertain serious
views respecting the great realities of eternity. . In August 1771, while
crossing from Dover to Calais, she was overtaken by a storm, which,
under Divine influence, produced such reasonings in her mind, and such
impressions on her heart, as led her henceforth to devote herself entire-
ly to the service of Christ. On her return home, in the following year,
she sought the acquaintance of Lady Glenorchy, and became her inti-
mate and inseparable friend. Her own words in reference to this me-
morable period, are, “O to grace how great a debtor Called at first
out of nothing ; and, after twenty-five years’ obstinacy and rebellion,
awakened from a state of sin, misery, and death, and brought to the
light of the glorious Gospel, to the knowledge of Jesus Christ revealed
therein, and (though by slow degrees, through various mazes, manifold
temptations, and sundry trials, may I not, in all humility, say) to good
hopes through grace : how shall I praise the riches of that grace which
has abounded towards me !”
The very feeble constitution of Lady Henrietta Hope, rendered it
necessary for her in a great measure to live retired ; but her great and
unfeigned piety was known to all who had access to her. By means of
the Countess of Northesk, she procured also an interview at this time
with Lady Glenorchy, for her sister, the Lady Sophia Hope, afterwards
Countess of Haddington, then just fourteen years of age ; and by her
conversation with Lady Glenorchy, Lady Sophia received those reli-
gious views and impressions which never left her, and by which, as far as
her circumstances would permit, she evinced her cordialesteem and affec-
tion for evangelical truth and piety during the whole of her life. Lady
Henrietta possessed a well informed mind, a sound judgment, much
prudence, and great gentleness of manners. She was ever after this a
counsellor of Lady Glenorchy's, and to her opinion she uniformly paid
much deference.
The deepest humility marked Lady Henrietta Hope's character, al-
most to excess; and from her retiring disposition, the public eye discover-
LADY HENRIETTA HOPE. 533
ed but few of the numerous instances of her generous and judicious ex-
ertions for the cause of religion and the general good of her fellow-crea-
tures, as she usually acted through the medium of others, whom she be-
lieved better qualified to stand forward as the witnesses of Jesus. But,
though unknown to many, they are all noted in the Divine records, and
will, ere long, be read aloud before an assembled world. On many oc-
casions, uniting with others, she contributed largely towards erecting
chapels, building schools, and endowing them, together with extensive
provision, both occasional and stated, for the poor and distressed of every
description. At the same time she used her influence with those in the
higher walks of life, to gain them over to the interests of vital, experi-
mental religion. For this she was well qualified, not only as holding
forth, by her own example, the word of life in the most amiable light,
but also from a thorough acquaintance with the doctrinal and preceptive
arts of the holy religion she professed, together with no inconsiderable
nowledge of elocution and command of her pen. Availing herself
of these advantages, with a single eye to the glory of God, and with
that extreme modesty and winning softness peculiar to her, she often
carried captive the minds of those she addressed, at least so far as to
gain approbation. Nothing short of the interposition of a Divine Agent
can produce in the human mind that belief of the important truths of
the Gospel, termed by the apostle, “the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not seen.” Yet, the Divine blessing often ren-
ders effectual the feeble attempts of Christians to effect this great pur-
pose; and there is reason to believe that this eminent servant of God
did not labour in vain.
Lady Henrietta Hope suffered much, in the latter years of her life,
from a very delicate frame, which gave rise to many distressing com-
plaints: these she endured with that calm fortitude and unbroken
resignation which nothing but true religion can inspire. In the autumn
of 1785, in company with Lady Glenorchy, she removed to Bristol Hot-
wells, where, every medical exertion proving ineffectual, and the me-
dicinal virtue of the wells yielding no relief, she was at length released
from her sufferings, and entered into the joy of her Lord. She died on
the 1st of January 1786; more full of honour than of days, leaving be-
hind her a fair copy of every thing that is lovely and of good report. A
considerable part of her fortune she left for pious and charitable pur
poses.
“Of humble spirit, though of taste refined,
Her feelings fender, though her will resigned;
Call'd by affliction every grace to prove,
In patience perfect, and complete in love;
O'er death victorious, through her Saviour's might,
She reigns triumphant with the saints in light.
LADY MAXWEL L.
-*
LADY MAxwell, was the youngest daughter of Thomas Brisbane,
Esq. of Brisbane, in Ayrshire. She was born in the year 1738. When
she had attained her sixteenth year, her personal attractions having al-
ready rendered her a conspicuous object of attention, she was invited
to London by her aunt, the Marchioness of Lothian, for the purpose of
being presented at the court of his Majesty, George the Second. The
invitation was accepted, and on her arrival in the metropolis she became
immediately involved in the mazy round of fashionable life. Although
so exceedingly young, she soon attracted a considerable share of admira-
tion ; and in the seventeenth year of her age, she was espoused to Sir
Walter Maxwell, Bart. of Pollock; a union entirely congenial with her
wishes, and which promised to realize all the worldly enjoyments that
her ardent fancy and aspiring hopes led her fondly to anticipate.
But this gay vision of earthly bliss was soon dissolved. In little more
than two years, she was bereaved of her husband, and in six weeks after,
of her son and only child. She was thus left a childless widow at the
early age of nineteen. From this period, she took up her residence in
Edinburgh and its vicinity, where, during three and fifty years of widow-
hood, she may be said, like Anna the prophetess, to have served God
with fastings and prayer night and day.
The precise circumstances of Lady Maxwell’s conversion are not
known, but they were identified with this afflictive dispensation of Di-
vine Providence. It is not a little remarkable, that she was never known
to mention either her husband or her child after their death ; and to the
important change in her views and feelings which was so closely con-
nected with those distressing events, she generally adverted with much
brevity and reserve. Indeed, the fullest disclosure which Lady Maxwell
ever verbally made to her intimate friends on the subject of her conver-
sion, was comprised in one short but expressive sentence: “God brought
meto himself by afflictions.”
Of the reality of this change, her whole subsequent life afforded the
most convincing evidence. But it is interesting to learn what she
herself considered as the reasons for believing that the great change
had passed upon her, by which she was translated out of the kingdom
of Satan into that of God’s dear Son. The following extract from her
Diary is dated in the year 1810, about twelve years after the death of
her husband.
“On a close examination as to the state of my soul, in the view of
the approaching sacrament, I clearly perceived that a great change had
passed upon me My reasons for thus judging, are : First, I found I
had been convinced of sin; secondly, I had been convinced of right-
eousness, whereby I had received power to believe on Christ, and found
the Spirit of God witness with my spirit that I was his child. And, as
a corroborating proof that my faith was genuine, I found that it
LADY MAXWELL. 535
wrought by love to God and man, and conduced to purify my heart.
Thirdly, I have felt a continual hungering and thirsting after right-
eousness, ardent and habitual desires to be wholly devoted to God, toge-
ther with a deep sense of the depravity of my own nature.”
More unequivocal or scriptural evidences of conversion than these,
could not be fixed on ; more especially what Lady Maxwell properly re-
garded as the “corroborating proof.” Many years, however, before the
date of this extract, her private papers testify that she had attained a
deep experience of the power of religion. In particular, it appears, that
in the year 1762, she had, according to the then general practice of
devout Christians, entered into a solemn covenant with God, though
not in writing; which, in August 1764, she deliberately renewed in the
following terms:
“I am this day renewing a covenant made with God in January,
1762, (being then in my 24th year,) but never written until now ; Lord,
help me in this great work. It is in the view of thy great strength
alone that I am attempting it, being altogether unable in myself to
vow unto Thee or to perform. Yet I would, in obedience to thy com-
mand, lay hold on thy strength, that I may make peace with Thee,
(Isa. xxvii. 5.) If thou, Lord, wilt manifest thy dear Son to me, clear
up my evidence of my interest in him, shed abroad at all times his
love in my heart, and let me feel him ever drawing me to Himself with
the cords of love : and, in times of trial, make his strength perfect in
my weakness, and not desert me in duty or in temptation ; if thou,
Lord, wilt dothese great things for me, then, in thy strength, I give myself
unto Thee, soul, body, and spirit, in the bonds of an everlasting cove-
nant, never to be forgotten. Despairing in myself, I flee to the great
refuge set before me, Jesus Christ the righteous, desiring him as my
Prophet, my Priest, and my King. I give up my heart wholly to him,
earnestly praying that He may empty it of sin and vanity, and fill it
with his immortal Self—that he at all times may be the object of my
warmest wishes. I engage, Lord, if thou wilt give me thy strength,
ever to espouse thy cause and interest in the world, however it may be
despised; and to esteem thy reproach more than fine gold.
“No cross, no suffering I decline,
Only make my heart all thine.”
“But, Lord, if thou dost not give me my strength, I shall fall a
rey to every temptation ; for thou knowest the deceitfulness of my
i. and how hardened it is by sin, so that nothing but thy love can
allure it. But, Lord, as thou art in Christ reconciling the world to thy-
self, I believe that thou art in him pure, undeviating love ; that thy
tenderness to those who are seeking thee through him, is inconceivable;
therefore into that fountain of mercy I wish to plunge myself. Oh
give me strong faith to lay hold on those precious promises which
thou hast given, for divine teaching, pardon, and sanctification. And
now, Lord, I give myself and my resolutions into thy hand—do thou
make them good—that none shall pluck me out of thy hand, that I
may be thine in that day when thou makest up thy jewels.
“DARCY MAXWELL.”
* For these extracts, and the leading particulars of this sketch, we are indebted to “A
Christian Sketch of Lady Maxwell.” By Robert Bourne, 12mo, London, 1820.
536 MEMOIRS OF
Lady Maxwell was repeatedly solicited to bestow her hand again in
marriage, and she might have formed an alliance with an opulent
family of the very first distinction. But, fiom the time of her first re-
ligious convictions, she appears, to have renounced the world, and to
have devoted herself unreservedly to the Lord. Her habits, her whole
deportment, and all her arrangements, were thenceforth strictly regu-
lated by the Christian code. Till after she had attained her fiftieth year,
she usually rose at four o’clock, by which practice she secured ample
and undistributed leisure for devotional retirement, without trenching
on the duties and engagements of the day. She not unfrequently at-
tended the religious services of the Wesleyan preachers at five in the
morning. At what period she first became acquainted with Mr.
Wesley, we are not informed ; but she was one of the few persons of
distinction in Scotland, who embraced his doctrinal views; and a warm
friendship appears to have subsisted between them, which was ce-
mented by epistolary correspondence. When Lady Glenorchy saw it to
be her duty to withdraw her countenance from Mr. Wesley’s preachers,
Lady Maxwell was, no doubt, pained and dissatisfied. From a letter
she received at this time from Mr. Wesley, it appears that he was not
without apprehension lest Mr. De Courcy’s preaching should lead her
also to follow Lady Glenorchy’s example. But it reflects high credit
on both these distinguished ladies, that while each firmly adhered to
the line of conduct which appeared to her in unison with the dictates
of duty, no interruption of their friendship ensued upon this difference.
On those minor points of Christian doctrine on which they were at
issue, they agreed to differ.
Lady Maxwell never renounced her connexion with the Scottish
Church. When she was first brought to a sense of the truth, she em-
ployed an evangelical minister of the Establishment to officiate as her
chaplain. But for nearly the last forty years of her life, she took upon
herself the conducting of household worship; reading the Scriptures and
praying extempore with her whole family, morning and evening. And
the fervour, fluency, and variety which characterized these effusions, to
the very close of life, rendered them truly impressive. Her Ladyship’s
conversational talents were considerable. She was extensively acquaint-
ed with the best works of British literature, and was familiar with most
subjects of general interest, not excluding the passing events which
successively engaged the public mind. But she never merged the
Christian in the politician, nor the lady in the polemic. Her manners
were naturally extremely haughty, and she never lost a certain air of
dignity, which to strangers was somewhat repelling, as obscuring her
real amiableness and humility. But this impression was dissipated on
a slight intimacy. In person Lady Maxwell wastall; her features, though
feminine, were bold; her eye quick and penetrating, yet full of sweet-
ness. And even when she was verging on seventy, time had neither
dimmed her sight, nor furrowed her countenance; while she sat and
walked as erect, and moved with as much ease and grace, as when in
her twentieth year. But if her manners were somewhat distant and re-
served, her delicate sense of propriety and her watchful self-command
always prevented her betraying the natural quickness and irritability of
her temper. Ever ready to express approbation when merited, the most
delicate censure was reluctantly permitted to pass her lips. Her candour
LADY MAXWELL. 537
was the genuine offspring of an amiable and enlarged mind. Speaking
evil of the absent, was not known in her presence; and retailers of evil
reports and petty Scandal were sure to meet from her with so unfavour-
able a reception as effectually to deter them from again approaching her.
Her charity, which lead her to “think no evil,” inclined, indeed, to an
excess, bordering sometimes on pertinacity of opinion; but it was highly
conducive to her own peace and serenity of mind.
Lady Maxwell’s pecuniary resources, particularly during the latter
part of her life, were by no means abundant, when considered in connex-
ion with her rank and station in society. For although left in affluent
circumstances as a widow, yet, being limited to a certain stated income,
her power of doing good was much curtailed by the increased expense
of living within the long period of fifty years’ widowhood. But the
greatest economy was observed, for the sole purpose of administering to
the wants of others; the promptness of which kept her Ladyship’s funds
invariably low. Avoiding unnecessary expense in dress and household
affairs, a greater residue of income remained for benevolent purposes than
is commanded by many persons of considerably larger income. Lady
Maxwell’s benevolence and sympathy with the distresses and necessi-
ties of her fellow-creatures, carried her indeed far beyond what usually
serves as a quietus of conscience in these matters; for there was scarcely
a single institution, or a private or public charity, whether for the repose
of age, or the instruction of youth, the relief of indigence, or help in
sickness, for the reformation of morals, or the spread and support of the
Gospel, to which she did not most cheerfully contribute. And, exclusive-
ly of her unbounded private benevolence, Lady Maxwell erected and
supported a school for many years, in which about one thousand girls
have received a good education; and each a copy of the Scriptures on
leaving school. And such were the encouraging effects produced by
this school, as induced her Ladyship to endow it, as a permanent esta-
blishment; by which it will continue to bestow its benefits on all suc-
ceeding generations, and convey to posterity a slight memorial of its
benevolent founder; who, imitating the example of her Divine Master,
and obeying his precepts, truly enjoyed “ the luxury of doing good.”
As Lady Glenorchy’s executrix, Lady Maxwell had a vast acces-
sion of public business thrown upon her hands; but her practice of early
rising, and her talent for the despatch of business, enabled her to discharge
the duties of her important trust with exemplary fidelity, promptness,
and regularity. The care and anxiety, however, attendant upon these
various concerns, were sometimes oppressive in her declining years. It
was not till the early part of 1810, that her Ladyship became a decided
invalid ; she then experienced an almost total loss of appetite. Nothing
appeared, however, to indicate immediate danger, till about a fortnight
preceding her dissolution. One evening, she became so exceedingly
feverish, that an attendant requested permission to call in her Ladyship's
relations, but received for answer, “No, it will hurry me. I feel such a
divine calm that I wish not to be disturbed.” She afterwards revived a
little ; but, being still incapable of taking sufficient nourishment, her
delicate frame gradually gave way, without her appearing to suffer either
bodily pain or mental decay, till on the 2d July 1810, while a minister
was engaged with her in prayer, she peacefully expired. To the physi-
cian who attended her, on his inquiring a few days before her death,
. 68
.*
538 MEMOIRs of
how she felt herself, she replied, thanking him for all his kindness
and attention, that her mind was so much absorbed in Divine things,
that she could neither speak of the body nor of the world. After this,
her weakness prevented her from conversing, but her language to the
minister who visited her, was, “God is with me.” Almost her last
words expressed that her confidence was unshaken, and her peace inex-
pressibly sweet. She died the death of the righteous, and has entered
into that rest where her works will follow her.
MISS GRAY,
OF TEA SES, NORTH B RITA IN.
Miss GRAY was born in February, 1741. Her parents were the
Reverend John Gray, minister at Dollar, who died January, 1745, and
Sophia, daughter of the Reverend John Stedman, minister of the Tron-
Church, Edinburgh.
She possessed a sound understanding and very superior talents, which,
in her early years when deprived of both her parents, were highly culti-
vated under the tuition of an uncle and guardian, not less distinguished
for his accomplishments as a scholar, than for his skill as a physician.
Such was her proficiency in polite and useful knowledge, that Lord
Kaimes, and many others high in rank or in literary fame, were found
of her company. Among these, there was no one whose esteem she so
highly valued as that of Sir John Pringle, Bart., President of the Royal
Society of London. During a tedious illness, in which he attended her
as a physician, he discovered in her such extensive knowledge and dis-
positions so amiable, as produced a firm and permanent friendship ; and
her respect for his character, and gratitude for his kind paternal attention,
were equally strong. It was from confidence in her prudence and judg-
ment, as well as in her piety and fidelity, that Lady Glenorchy, by her
last will, in the event of the death of another pious friend, intrusted to
her disposal very considerable funds, destined for pious and charitable
purposes.
From the native dignity of her own mind, and from associating with
persons of the most polished manners, those proprieties which render
social intercourse so agreeable, sat easy on Miss Gray. Yet, though
always affable and polite, from a modest diffidence, she was reserved to
strangers; and, in mixed companies, seldom took that share in conver-
sation to which, from her information and good sense, she was well en-
titled. Among intimate friends, when trifles were dismissed, and sub-
jects of importance started, she discovered the stores with which her own
mind was enriched, and her facility in communicating her sentiments
with clearness and elegance.
Even before she felt the power of the Gospel, though she mixed with
others in fashionable amusements, attachment to them, or to the orna-
ments of dress, was not the foible of her discerning and contemplative
mind. Her deportment at that period was decorous and exemplary,
her attendance at church regular, and her charities such as from her
opulent circumstances might have been expected. In all this, however,
she was influenced by other considerations than those derived from the
gospel. It was about nine or ten years before her death, that her views
became changed: by what means, her most intimate friends have not
been informed. Her religious impressions were cherished and confirmed
by the sermons and conversation of several Edinburgh ministers, by the
540 MEMOIRS OF
writings of Mr. Newton, of London, and of Archbishop Leighton, and
by the lives of pious persons, particularly that of Mr. David Brainerd,
with whose experience hers much coincided, in the deep views she had
of the evil of sin. With the teachableness of a little child, she hear-
kened to the instructions of heavenly wisdom, begged her friends to
point out her faults, and received their admonitions with meekness and
gratitude. One who lived near her, who fully knew and highly esteem-
ed her character, and to whom, as a friend, she was peculiarly attached,
generally spent with her an hour or two, twice or thrice a week, in con-
versation on religious subjects, and in prayer. These were happy sea-
sons of spiritual improvement, communion with God, and Christian fel-
lowship. At such times, she would talk freely on the state of her own
mind, the marks of a state of grace, and of progress or declension in the
Divine life; on public events, as calling for humiliation and prayer, or
for gratitude and praise; on important passages of Scripture, or Chris-
tian doctrines or duties; on the books she had been reading, and the ser-
mons she had been hearing. Without affecting the appearance of it,
she was an excellent casuist. She had often occasion to give her sen-
timents on delicate questions relating to religious character and moral
conduct ; and her ideas of what is fit and right, though often different
from the maxims of the world, were in correct unison with the spirit and
precepts of the gospel. Deeply impressed with her obligations to her
Redeemer, and humbled under a sense of her own unworthiness, she
bewailed that she did so little for the cause of Christ, and for the benefit
of her fellow sinners. She watched with a jealous attention, not only
her outward conduct, but the thoughts and affections, of her heart;
looking up for renewed supplies of grace and strength, to Him in whom
it hath pleased the Father that all fulness should dwell.
Her opinions were not mere speculation and empty talk. They
steadily influenced her temper, and produced a beautiful uniformity and
consistency in her deportment. Though in no way ambitious of fame,
cautiously avoiding notice and applause, she, from purer and higher
motives, studied a behaviour suited to every relation and situation in
which she was placed and becoming her profession as a Christian. In
her house she was kind and hospitable. At her table there was elegance
without luxury. Though always neat, she shunned those expenses in
dress and equipage in which others indulged, that she might have the
more to bestow in acts of beneficence. To her relations she was atten-
tive and kind : their eternal happiness was one daily subject of her
thoughts and prayers. . To her servants, she was a humane and indul-
gent mistress. By a pious chaplain, she furnished them with the means
of daily worship and instruction; and to some of them she left legacies,
as marks of her regard.
Many individuals have enjoyed a larger share of consolation and joy,
but, Miss Gray had no doubts of her interest in Christ, or of final happi-
ness. Often her depression arose from a deep sense of the extent of
the Divine law, and of her falling short of what she owed to her God
and Saviour; though, probably, it was increased by the delicacy of her
animal frame. Her bodily constitution was indeed feeble, and her
health had many interruptions, which she bore with exemplary patience
and resignation, more anxious that they might be sanctified, than that
they might be removed. On one of these occasions, a friend high in
MISS GRAY. 541
her esteem requested, that, if he survived her, she would leave him any
diaries or other religious papers, which might be a pleasant and profit-
able memorial of the many hours they had spent together in speaking
on the things of God. But this she peremptorily refused. She said,
that none of her papers were worthy of inspection, that from time to
time she had burnt them, and wished none of them might remain after
her death. She even begged as a special favour, that he would burn all
her letters that were in his hands; with which request he thought it
his duty to comply. If her modesty had not prevented her suspecting
that she would be the subject of any publication, it would have instiga-
ted her to prohibit it. .
Her bounties were not extorted by the sight or importunity of the dis-
tressed, though to the habitations of sorrow she was no stranger. She
carefully inquired who were the most proper objects of her beneficence;
and requested the advice of those whom she esteemed competent judges,
as to what might be the most useful employment of that part of her
substance which she had determined to devote to pious and beneficent
purposes. She thought that the great Proprietor of all things had be-
stowed upon her so ample a fortune, not barely for her own comfort, or
that of her relations, but that she might honour the Lord with her sub-
stance, and promote the happiness of mankind ; and she believed that
she must one day give an account at his tribunal, how she had improved
so important a talent. This motive led her to sell her landed estate.
Yet, her wealth was much increased, and her power of doing good to
others enlarged, without encroaching on what she justly thought due
to the ties of blood, of affinity, or of gratitude.
She often employed one or two of her particular friends, under the
express condition of concealing her name, in carrying her donations to
different public undertakings and charitable institutions in Edinburgh,
to pious students of divinity, and to private objects of compassion. At
different times, she gave money to the Rev. Dr. Hunter, and to Dr.
Davidson, for purchasing useful books to be given to students and
preachers. She supported a Sabbath-day’s school for the religious in-
struction of indigent youth, which was blessed with that success for which
she earnestly prayed. Many were her kind offices to the parents of
those children ; and she left an ample provision for the continuance of
this school. For some years, she gave a prize of eight pounds, for any
of the Edinburgh students of divinity, whose essay on a theological
subject, to be prescribed by Dr. Hunter, should appear to him most to
merit it. She bequeathed 10l. per annum for the same purpose dur-
ing the doctor’s incumbency. This, and some similar institutions, have
produced excellent essays. When her funds increased, she vested 500l.
with the Society in Scotland for propagating Christian Knowledge, for
maintaining a school in Edinburgh or its neighbourhood, where poor.
children should be taught reading and writing. Usually fifty or sixty
attend that school. By her last will, she devised a large portion of her
fortune to various important charities; e. g. to the Society in Scotland
for propagating Christian Knowledge, 3,000l. Sterling ; to the Society
for promoting Religious Knowledge among the poor, 700l. ; to the Or-
phan Hospital, 200l. ; and to various other charitable institutions, dif-
ferent sums, amounting, in all, to 6,200l. These benefactions did not
spring, as many splendid ones have sprung, from vanity and ostentation.
542 MEMOIRs of
They were the genuine fruits of a firm faith in the gospel, and of a
love without dissimulation. With wonder and gratitude she often re-
flected how her heavenly Father had blessed her with outward mercies,
with affluent circumstances, a comfortable measure of health, respect-
able and affectionate relatives, and faithful and conscientious servants.
She felt thankful, especially, for the preached gospel, for the frequent
opportunities of partaking of the Lord's Supper, regular family worship,
and the ample leisure she had for devotional exercises. She lamented
that she had done so little for His glory who had dealt thus kindly and
bountifully with her, and admired the patience of God in so long sparing
one who had so little rendered to him according to his benefits. To
Him, she solemnly dedicated all she was, and all she had ; her body
her soul, her time, her worldly possessions, and every other talent.
Yet, her hope, confidence, and joy, were not founded on her own reli-
gious affections, resolutions, and duties, but on that blood which clean-
seth from all sin, on the righteousness of Christ, and his only. She looked
up to Him who leads the blind in a way they know not, to direct her by
his word, providence, and Spirit, how best to manage her worldly sub-
stance, what part to give to the promoting of Christ's kingdom, to the
poor members of his mystical body, to her kindred and those of her own
house, and what to lay out on the accommodations of life; what por-
tion of time to allot to devotional exercises, to social and relative duties,
to lawful business, and what to exercise and such recreations as might
strengthen her for duty.
- During her last sickness, which was only of a few days’ continuance,
her mind was screne and peaceful, and her conversation pleasant and
spiritual. She expired on the 18th of March, 1792.
MR. S. A N N E T H O R N TO N.
–4
MRs. ANNE THoRNTon, whose maiden name was Ford, was the
wife of Mr. John Thornton, High-street, Borough of Southwark. She
was born of respectable parents, in that neighborhood, Nov. 1741, and
was married to Mr. Thornton in July, 1772.
About the age of nineteen, she received her first abiding religious
impressions, through attending the prayers at Westminster Abbey, on
a Wednesday. . In the early stage of her Christian profession, she
chiefly attended the ministry of the late Rev. Thomas Jones, of St.
Saviour’s. But during the whole course of her life, she held commu-
nion with true believers of every denomination, without forming a
bigoted attachment to any one.
Mrs. Thornton was favoured with a strong, comprehensive, and ac-
tive mind, which was improved by a good education, and she had a
taste for literature; but this did not prevent her from paying a diligent
and exemplary attention to the duties of domestic life. She was much
respected in the characters of a wife, a mother, a friend, and a mis-
tress. By her literary attainments, she was well qualified to educate
her own children ; to which important employment she devoted much
of her time.
The following particulars relate to the manner in which she bore the
long and painful illness which closed a useful and honourable life.
During the whole of her trying indisposition, her deportment was
uniform and consistent. Deeply convinced of the vanity of all human
learning and acquirements, she repeatedly declared to those around her,
“There is a knowledge that must be given up.” All knowledge that
does not spring from the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and him crucified,
or that has not a direct reference to Him, will prove at last, to an immor-
tal soul, impertinent as a dream, and unsubstantial as the smoke which
the wind driveth away. She said, “if God were pleased to prolong
her life, she would chiefly confine her studies to that one precious book,
the Bible.” She trusted for her acceptance, with God, and for happi-
ness in the invisible state, (of which she had cheering prelibations
while yet upon earth,) to nothing she had done in her past life, but
wholly and solely to the atonement and mediation of her Saviour. As
she had lived as becometh a saint, aiming to regulate her temper and
conduct by the precepts and example of her Lord, so she died as be-
cometh a Christian, renouncing her own righteousness, and simply re-
lying upon Him who was made sin for us, though he knew no sin, that
we might be made the righteousness of God in Him. She expressed her
solid hope and her stable peace, in terms perfectly agreeable to what the
Scriptures teach us, to expect from those who are rooted and grounded
in the faith of the Gospel, and who can rejoice in God as their strength
and portion, when flesh and heart are fainting. There was a striking
elevation and dignity, combined with simplicity, in her manner and
544 MEMOIRS OF
language. Knowing whom she had believed, and expecting to be soon
with him to behold his glory, she employed the remnant of her breath
in praising Him, in praying for others, in instructing, admonishing, and
comforting her children and friends who were with her. With these
views she often continued speaking, till, through extreme weakness,
she could speak no more. But, as soon as her strength was a little re-
vived, she resumed the same pleasing employment till within a few
hours before her happy dismission. -
From July 1798, Mrs. Thornton's health had been gradually declin-
ing; but, at the first, neither she nor her family were apprehensive of
danger. The Bath waters being recommended, she cheerfully com-
plied with the desire of her friends. When she had been there a fort-
night, she said to a friend, “Before I left home, the doctors had little
hope of my recovery. I may say, I came hither under a sentence of
death from two of them. I heard what they said, with perfect calm-
ness of mind. I felt a sweet composure. I am in my Lord’s hands;
and, should he call me home, I believe that He, whose goodness and
mercy have followed me all my life hitherto, will perfect what is lack-
ing, and take me to be for ever with himself. And if what I feel is a
breaking up of nature, it is a gradual one. My Lord deals gently with
me.” *
The Bath waters afforded little relief: her complaints increased upon
her. On the 12th February, some friends from Bristol went to visit her,
and found her very poorly. After remaining quiet for about an hour,
turning to them, she said, “We have not followed cunningly devised
fables, but blessed realities, which now yield me Divine support. My
illness has been a pleasant time. I am thankful that I am not to live
here always. I look forward with joy to the world to come. I have
thought much of, and have felt great nearness to, my friends who have
already gained the port. It often seems as if a groupe of them were
ready to receive me. Blessed be God, I can readily leave all my dear
friends and relatives, if He call me. My children I dearly love, but I
am willing to leave them. I hope they will follow me to heaven. I
have endeavoured to recommend the best things, and can only lament
that I have not set them a better example. But if any infirmity or
sin they have seen in me, have proved a hinderance to them, I pray
God to take the remembrance of it from their minds, and enable them
to look to that perfect Pattern, who has left us an example how we
ought to walk. I can only recommend to them to do the things which
he requires, and which he has promised to give those who seek him,
power to perform.”
After this, she thanked God for bringing her to himself in early life,
and said: “What mercy and love have been manifested to me all my
life long ! Had I been in the world, and wished to be introduced to
persons of refined sense, fine taste, and cultivated minds, should I ever
have found any of more refined taste and more improved intellects than
some of those with whose friendship I have been favoured 4 With those
I have conversed on the sublimest subjects, and I expect to renew the
pleasing employment in eternity.”
. A friend said: “There we shall all meet,_not only our contempora-
ries, but the holy, the wise, the pious, and the good of all ages. There we
shall see Abraham the friend of God, Moses, Isaiah, and Daniel.” She
*
MRS. ANNE THORNTON. 545
replied, “Yes. Whom do we expect to meet in heaven? Not Alexan-
der; not those who conquered, but those who renounced the world.”
She then took up the character of Abraham, and enlarged upon it,
particularly on his condescension to Lot, in yielding the choice of situa-
tion to him, for the prevention of strife. She spoke largely on the ex-
cellency of the Holy Scriptures. To her daughter, she said: “Study
the Scriptures, not only as containing truths which are able to make
you wise unto salvation, which they do in the fullest manner; but read
them for rules of life, for history, for description of characters, for geo-
graphy, for every thing. One thing which gives history its excellence,
is its authenticity ; another, is the character of the author. Now the
Bible is infallibly true: the Bible is the book of God. It not only in-
structs us in the knowledge of God, of ourselves, and of the way by
which we may approach him with hope, but in whatever it is needful
for us to know ; and it will both please and profit every person who
reads it with attention and prayer.”
She desired a friend to repeat Gambold’s Mystery of Life; and remark-
ed on the last verse, as peculiarly suitable to herself:
“Oh! what is death? 'Tis life's last shore,
Where vanities are vain no more;
Where all pursuits their goal obtain,
And life is all retouch'd again.”
In the course of the evening she once or twice mentioned the names
of two departed friends, saying, that she felt great nearness to them in
spirit. It often seemed to her, she said, as if they were almost visible.
She reflected with pleasure on the many happy hours they had spent to-
gether on earth, and rejoiced in hope of their friendship being matured
in the kingdom of glory. Referring, at another time, to the death of one
of those ladies, she remarked on the peculiarly deep sense of the Divine
presence felt by the friends who witnessed the scene, at the moment of
her departure, and for some time after : “It was as if heaven was open-
ed, and the angelic guard all but visible.” She added: “What a
blessing is it, that we have as full and clear an evidence of the influ-
ence of good and happy spirits on our minds, as we have of the power
of wicked spirits upon bad men l’’
Feb. 15. This morning, she strongly expressed her confidence in the
Holy Scriptures. After a pause, she broke out in the words of the pro-
phet Isaiah, “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God; speak
ye comfortably to Jerusalem.” She then added, “What condescension
in God, thus to address his creatures | The Bible is the best book. It
is the truth. Lately I have read little else; and should I live, it shall
be my one book. It contains every thing. I feel my weakness, and
it calls upon me to trust in the Lord Jehovah, for in him is everlasting
strength. I know not what our Lord is about to do with me. I grow
weaker; and if he takes me home, it will be from the evil to come. If
he should spare me, I trust it will be to bring me to a nearer acquaint-
ance with himself.” She then desired a friend to read Isaiah xxvi. and
to pray with her. It seemed like worshipping before the throne. How
near is earth to heaven
On the 17th, being told that it was a fine day, she said: “The fine
weather was to do much for me, and so it will.” One saying, “We are
69
546 MEMOIRS OF
hastening where there is summer without winter, and day without
night,” she immediately cited those lines:
“The winter's night, and summer's day,
Glide imperceptibly away;
Too short to sing thy praise.”
And a few minutes after,
“I’ll praise my Maker while I’ve breath;
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my noblest pow'rs:
My days of praise shall ne'er be past,
While life, or thought, or being last,
Or immortality endures.”
A little while after, she charged her daughter Maria to tell her other
children, that, living and dying, their mother loved them : “You have
been good and pleasant children to me; and I pray you, take the Apos-
tle’s advice, Be ye kindly affectioned one towards another; be ye holy,
harmless, and undefiled.” Then, addressing her daughter, she said:
“My dear Maria, you have nursed me affectionately, and now you are
called to an affecting scene, a dying mother parting with a child she
dearly loves. After I am gone, and you retire in secret to weep, per-
haps your mother may be looking on. I charge you and your dear sis
ters, let not a thought enter your minds, that you have neglected any
thing that could have been done for me. You have all been kind. I
have had every attention shown me, that could have been given. The
Lord bless you all ! Next to my children, I love my nieces, and I hope
you will always love each other. Do not expect too much from each
other, and then you will live in love.” After a short silence, she said:
“The mystery of the cross contains our all of good. Our Redeemer,
our great Deliverer, is our surety and our peace. I have no hope, no
plea, but Lord, thou hast died. Oh, Maria, he must be your salvation :
expect only to be saved through him 1"
On the entrance of her physician, accompanied with his sister, Mrs.
Thornton reached out her hand, and said: “And his good sister too.—
We are all sisters in Jesus: some are gone home, others are going, and
others will follow. We have fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers, and
you, sir, (looking at the doctor,) have children in heaven. When I
came hither, some of my friends did not think I should recover, nor did
I know how our Lord would deal with me. But here I am, waiting
with patience and resignation to meet his good pleasure. He has
brought me low, but he deals gently with me.” Then turning to Dr.
L., she said: “O sir, you know much, you have read many books, but
there is no book like the Bible. That blessed book contains the mys-
tery of the cross. O that precious blood that precious blood It
bought our all of good, our blessedness for ever !”
Soon after the doctors had left her, she said, “I fear they do not
think I shall go soon.” Being told, that they thought she might lin-
ger a little, but that they should not be surprised if a sudden change
took place, she said: “I hope my dear children will not think I love
them the less, because I am willing to leave them.”
On the 18th, she said: “My Lord will take me home soon. Though
he seems to delay his coming, he has not forgotten to be gracious.”
MRS. ANNE THORNTON. 547
Soon after, being in expectation of Mr. Thornton, she said, My earthly,
and perhaps my heavenly Bridegroom will come to-day.” In about
half an hour, Mr. Thornton and his two daughters arrived. She was
so much affected as not to be able to speak for some time. After a while,
turning to him, she said, “My dear husband, you are come once more
to take me in your arms, and lay me down that I may die.” Upon
which, he lifted her upon the sofa. In a few minutes, she said,
“Not a doubt doth arise, to darken the skies,
Or hide, for a moment, my God from my eyes.”
She then called her children, and said: “My sweet Anne ! (I cannot
say, my dearest, child, for you are all equally dear to me;(my precious
Harriet ! seek the God of your fathers. He is my support, and my all;
my faithful God.” Seeing them much affected and weeping, she said:
“I love your tears; they are precious because they are tears of affec-
tion. But you may weep too much. Take care that you do not in-
dulge excessive grief.”
On the morning of the 19th, addressing herself to Mr. Thornton and .
her children, she spoke to the following purport:—“I have often thought
of a subject which I wished to mention before I left this world; but I
forbore, because it was an affecting one. I have not written any thing
concerning it, except in my last birth-day poem. I always disliked
funeral pomp. I wish to be buried in a plain, decent manner. I should
like to be buried in a country churchyard. I have thought so in years
that are past, as well as of late, since I have been so much at Epsom. I
used to take pleasure in walking in churchyards, and reading monu-
mental inscriptions. They have their use ; I do not condemn them ;
but I beg there may be nothing of this kind for me, but my name, age,
and a sentence of Scripture. The Scriptures contain every thing, and I
know no part of them I should rather choose, or think more proper, than
Rom. vi. 23. ‘The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is'
eternal life.” I feel what a poor, vile, helpless, unworthy sinner I am;
as Gambold says, “No deed of mine but proved me worse.” In one
sense, all I have done is sin. In another, it is not. I thank God for any
good he enabled me to do; but the good that is done upon earth, the
Lord doeth it. I wish you to have proper views of your own being. I
think some people deficient here in. They have not a right sense of the
importance of their own being. I have gloried in my being a redeem-
ed creature ; this dignifies human nature. St. Paul gloried in the cross:
it was this that raised him up. And St. Peter says, “We have not
followed cunningly devised fables, when we made known unto you the
coming and power of our Lord Jesus Christ, but were eye-witnesses of
his majesty,’ &c. No, faith apprehends realities; faith opens the world
to come. This life is but the beginning of our existence: when we begin
to live here, we begin to die; and when we die (in the faith,) we enter
into a fuller enjoyment of the blessed realities which faith now appre-
hends. O may the Holy Spirit impress these truths upon your hearts,
my dear children I Without his influence all is nothing.” Then, lean-
ing her head back, she said, “Lord now take me to thyself. Let me
depart in peace according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy
salvation. Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.”
She was now quite exhausted, and sank into a fit, which threaten-
548 MEMOIRS OF
ed her dissolution. But she revived; and on being offered some refresh-
ment, she said:“He that giveth a cup of cold water for the Lord’s sake,
shall in no wise lose his reward. How well it is to be employed in acts
of kindness, of which our Lord takes such notice l I have thought of
that text, “Henceforth I will drink no more of the fruit of the vine,
till I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom.” What a parting
meal was that which our Lord partook with his disciples | What con-
descension | What intimate familiarity This Scripture, and others,
have led me to consider the similarity and connexion between earth
and heaven; such as, ‘ I am the vine, ye are the branches.” What a
union It is a subject that has often afforded me pleasure and profit.”
A person said, “You used to reason from analogy.” She replied; Yes,
I used to love to compare reason with faith, and nature with revelation.
And though some persons may think these things strange, I have had
such openings into them within these few days, as I did not expect
in this life. But many people laugh at what they do not understand.”
Her pillow being a little moved, she said: “My mother used to say,
If I were a queen, I could not be better attended. I am sure I may say
so. But I have often felt pain that I did no more for her; though I
paid her all the attention in my power. She was a blessed woman, and
I sometimes think she will be one of the first happy spirits to welcome
me home. How I shall rejoice in a future day, to present my children
to her in glory !”
In the afternoon, she turned to her daughters, and said, “God has
been better to me than my fears. You little expected to see your mo-
ther dying with so little fear. I have had many fears,” (alluding to a
complaint which threatened her with painful consequences for many
years,) “but my Lord has been good to me. My fears drove me to
prayer; and what pain I did feel, has often drawn me nearer to my God.
Dr. L. brought me good news, when he told me, I was going home to
my God. Lord, suffer me not to be impatient: thy time is best ; thy
will be done !”
The room being dark, she asked for a light, saying, “Light is sown
for the righteous, and joy for the upright in heart.” In the evening, be-
ing in much pain, she cried, “Lord, have mercy upon me: do thou help
me: let thy rod and staff comfort me. Thou hast prepared a table for
me in the wilderness.” Soon after, she prayed fervently; and calling
upon the Saviour of sinners, said,
“‘Son of God! thy blessing grant;
Still supply my every want.”
“I did not think that nature could have held out so long; but, Lord,
thou showest me that thy time and manner are the best. Give me
strength and patience, and let thy will be done.”
On the 20th, in the morning, she said, “I am waiting for my dismis-
sion. My Saviour, my God, my All ! perfect what thou seest lacking
in my soul, and take me to thyself. Remember the word in which
thou hast caused me to trust. I will trust and not be afraid, for the Lord
Jehovah is my strength and my song.”
Being informed that a friend had sent her kind sympathizing love to
er, she was awhile silent, and then said, “I love her: the very hear-
ing of her name revives me. We know little of the value of love here,
to what we shall in eternity.” *
MRS. ANNE THORNTON. 549
Being told that Miss Martha M. had frequently called when she was
too ill to see any one, she said: “I love her, and all that family. They
fill an important station. There are but few people of talents, who can
bear to know their own importance. But it ought to humble us, and
stimulate us to use them ; for talents, for the good of others, are an
awful trust committed to our care. It is not at our option whether we
shall use them or not. I have often had serious thoughts upon this
subject. It is seldom we see such a family as the M–s. I have
many thoughts in my mind concerning them, if I had but strength to ar-
range them.” Feeling herself a little better, she desired that Miss M.
might be sent for. On her arrival, she addressed her to this effect: “I
am glad to see you. When I came hither, I seemed nearly as well as
you are now. One day, before I left home, the doctor seeing me walk
across the room with apparent strength, said something concerning me,
from which I thought I should probably slip through your hands; but
the thought was not painful. I felt no fear. Now I am going. And
though I do not think that any thing I am able to say, can have much
weight as coming from me, yet, I wished to see you. Yours is a sin-
gular family. God has given great talents to you all; and it is true wis-
dom, to know the part we are called to act, and to fulfil it. We are
little aware of the loss we shall sustain, if we do not properly fill up the
place for which we are fitted. I have had awful views of this, such
views as have influenced my intentions. I have aimed at using what
was committed to me, to the glory of God; and though I have fallen
far short of my aim, yet, I am now thankful that my endeavours were
directed to what at this important moment my mind fully approves.
I am a weak, helpless creature, and do not speak because I have filled
my place, or done the work assigned me ; no, I have only aimed at it ;
but I speak because of the sluggishness of my nature, and because I
wish every one had a proper sense of the increasing enjoyment they may
gain by a right use of their time and talents. The necessity of this ap-
pears from the Apostle's words, “Press towards the mark; covet ear-
nestly the best gifts;’ and from our Lord’s account of the ten virgins.
They were all intrusted with talents, all had light, and all had gifts;
but five were wise, and five were foolish. The former improved, the
latter neglected their talents. You are engaged in a good work; may
you go on and prosper | | If he that giveth a cup of cold water shall not
lose his reward, the service of those who seek the spiritual good of their
fellow-creatures shall surely be remembered. God is faithful. I am a
poor worm, but I have found him so, beyond what I could have hoped.
Often in my chamber have I prayed,
“When pain o'er my weak flesh prevails,
With lamb-like patience arm my breast;
When wounding grief my soul assails,
In lowly weakness may I rest.”
I have had a strong assurance that it would be so ; insomuch that
I have often returned to my knees to thank God for what I believed he
would do. I have often poured forth my soul in prayer respecting the
hour which now draws near. I had reason to believe He would be
with me ; and now He is answering my faith. If a petition has been
presented, we know it was accepted, if the thing petitioned for be
550 MEMOIRS OF
granted. Does it not amount to a certainty 7 Spiritual things are
realities. Faith produces effects. God is faithful to his word.”
Then, turning to her children, she said, “My dear children, let no
one cheat you out of immortality.” Miss M. was much affected, and
thanked her for her prayers and counsel. She replied ; “We often ask
others’ prayers ; but we have only faint conceptions of the love and
benevolence of the prayer of Jesus for us. O precious, precious Sa-
viour ! How great is thy love 1 May he help you to go on in the good
work in which you are engaged ! True wisdom, I again repeat it, is to
know our calling, to live in it, to be holy and useful. So shall an
abundant entrance be administered unto us into the heavenly king-
dom.”
She was now quite exhausted, and fell back into one of the fits which
we have often thought would have taken her home; but she sank into
sleep; and afterwards, though very ill all day, continued testifying of
the unbounded love of God our Saviour, often saying, “Lord, now let-
test thou thy servant depart in peace,” &c. $
. Soon after, mentioning a pious individual, she said, she remembered
that several years ago, he had a fever, which produced delirium, during
the whole of which, his conversation was about spiritual things. “I have
often thought of him,” she added, “ since I came hither. My thoughts,
through my weakness, have not been always under the control of reason.
How thankful should I have been, to have known nothing but what I
would wish to think I’” A friend standing by said; “I have often been
struck with the rich variety of spiritual sentences and verses of hymns,
with which your memory is stored, and in which you nºw so readily
express yourself; and I have thought, I will endeavour mérgºthan for-
merly to advise young people to store their memories with what they
would wish to think of in a dying hour.” It was told her, that one of
her nieces was committing to memory Gambold’s “Mystery of Life ;”
on which she gave a smile of approbation, and, turning to her children,
entreated them to fill their minds with the good things which might be
useful to them on a dying bed.
She then asked a person present, if she had known the good man
above referred to : the reply was, Yes, I have often met with him.” Mrs.
Thornton continued: “I well remember the precious times we used to
enjoy in that society. A few simple-hearted, spiritual people met to-
gether: several of them had little learning, but they used to speak in a
manner which would not have disgraced persons of the greatestabilities.
Mr. W. was a man of good plain sense. How many persons of fine strong
intellects will one day wish to change places with him 1 Religion is the
one thing worth seeking after.” -
Near midnight she was in great pain, and prayed most fervently that
our Lord would take her to himself. She complained of the room being
dark : and when told that there were candles in it, and that it was
owing to her illness that she did not see the light, (for, at the approach
of her fits, her sight was much affected,) she said, “I am glad you tell
me so. I hope it is a proof that I am not far from my heavenly in-
heritance. I always loved light, because I thought it typical of spir-
itual light. I hope, if one of my natural senses is closed, it is a pre-
* to my spiritual senses being more fully opened : perhaps it may
€ SOOIl. 4:
MRS. ANNE THORNTON. 551
On the 22d, she seemed to be in great pain. She was much engaged
in prayer, and often expressed her strong confidence in God. While we
were fanning her, she said,
“From Sion's tops the breezes flow,
And cheer us in the vale below.”
For some days she dozed much, and had several fits. On the 28th,
she said, “How comfortably the Lord has kept me in this week I
could not have thought I could have been so comfortable in such a state
of weakness. Let patience have its perfect work in my soul. Lord,
make me perfect and entire, lacking nothing. Sometimes the enemy
thrusts sorely at me with a temptation, to fear that all is not right with
me, that after all, I may fail. But he is not suffered to distress me. In
thee, O Lord, do I put my trust.
“Thy mighty Name salvation is,
And keeps my soul above ;
Pardon, and peace, and power it brings,
And everlasting love.”
A friend said: “God is faithful: you know he is so. Having loved
his own, he loved them to the end.” She answered, “Yes, he is faithful.
In years that are past, when fear has assailed me, I have prayed to the
Lord, my heart has been poured out before him, and he has permitted
me to talk to him, as a man with his friend. He has comforted me, and
now he is answering my prayers. By night on my bed have I sought
thee, and thou art my Rock and my Refuge. I renounce all my right-
eous and my unrighteous deeds. I have no hope or plea but in Thee.”
On that text being mentioned, “All things are yours, for ye are Christ's,
and Christ is God’s ;” she took up the words; “Yes, ye are Christ's,
and Christ is God’s : and when Christ who is our life shall appear, then
shall we also appear with him in glory.” Then looking affectionately
on her children, she said; My dear children, you see your dying parent
bearing testimony to the truths of God.” Soon after, being in great pain,
she said; “If my continuing here sometime longer may be of use to any
person, I am willing to stay. These our light afflictions, which endure.
but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory.” A person repeated the following verse, “While we
look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not
seen;” and added, “You now are between both worlds, and see the things
that are invisible.” She replied, “I do indeed. Lord, my sure trust is
in thy word, and thou wilt not suffer me to be confounded. I trust in
thee, and know in whom I trust.”
Towards the close of life, her weakness was extreme. She said
little, except in those blessed words which our Lord himself has
taught us, frequently repeating the Lord's prayer, or detached sen-
tences from it; particularly, “Our Father—Thy will be done: for
thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever.
Amen and amen.” For nearly forty-eight hours before her happy
spirit took its ſlight, she took little notice of any thing around her.
She expired without the least struggle, on the 12th of March, 1799.
In a few days, her remains were removed to Camberwell; and on
552. MEMOIRS OF
Thursday, the 21st, they were, according to her desire, interred in
Epsom churchyard; where a stone was erected, inscribed with her
name and age, and the last verse of the sixth chapter to the Ro-
mans: “The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal
life, through Jesus Christ our Lord.”




MI S S A N N B A C O N.
.A Letter from her Brother to one of her intimate Friends.
DEAR MADAM,
IT having been the wish of yourself, and many others, that a short
memoir of my late sister should be printed, and distributed through the
circle of our friends, as a grateful tribute to her beloved memory ; I
am induced to acquiesce in the request offered to me as her near rela-
tion, to attempt to put together the few items which may be interesting
in her life and religious experience. I say few, not because I consider
her character and conduct as affording little of what was interesting
and engaging to those who best knew her; but as deeming it a mis-,
take which has sometimes been committed, to give all the particulars of
the life of an individual, whose sphere of motion has perhaps included
little more than an occasional remove from town to the country, and
from the house of one friend to another.
“We are fond,” says Dr. Goldsmith,” of talking of those who have
given us pleasure: not that we have any thing important to say, but
because the subject is pleasing.” On this principle I write; professing
to attach no other importance to the narrative, than that which true
religion must ever stamp upon the memoir of the most humble indivi-
dual.
The few pages we propose printing, may, however, fall into the hands
of a stranger. I therefore premise, that the subject of this sketch was
born on the 10th of May 1768, and was eldest daughter of the late John
Bacon, Esq., R.A., whose memoirs were published by the Rev. Richard
Cecil, M.A. In those Memoirs, the character of a decided and consis-
tent Christian is fully and justly displayed; and in her mother, it may
truly be stated, there was an example of all that is lovely in the Chris-
tian character. May I digress from the main subject, to add, that this
woman was “full of mercy and good fruits.” She wore with peculiarº
grace, the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit. She was one of whom
we might say, with more propriety than of many others, that she “sat at
the feet of Christ to hear his words,” having made her choice of “the
one thing needful ;” which, it may not be improper to mention, from
the natural diffidence of her mind, she always feared to appropriate to
herself; but which, on a bed of death and of triumph, she found secur-,
ed to her by the immutable promise of Him who hath said, “I will
never leave you, not forsake you.” *
Born of such parents, it may be needless to add, that our laté sister
was dedicated to God from her birth. At her baptism, I picture to my
mind a second Hannah, a second Mary, in fervent prayer and faith pre-
senting her infant as a free-will offering to the service of Heaven. The
minister, probably, discerned these parental feelings. After naming
70
554 MEMOIRS OF
the child, he returned it to the mother, addressing her in these words,
(partly quoting those of Pharaoh’s daughter,) “Take this child, and
nurse it for the Lord.” We are assured, this admonition was not given
in vain. We may venture to answer for the many prayers and the
tender solicitude of which this child was the subject. Yet, it is, per-
haps, not unimportant to state, that, for a period of twenty-three years,
these prayers appeared to be unproductive | That Divine assertion,
“Every one that asketh, receiveth,” seemed to be fallacious.
Her mother, when on her death-bed, committed her five children into
the hands of her heavenly Father ; and among the petitions which she
fervently and repeatedly offered in their behalf, was this; that they
might be kept from the evils of the world. This prayer was not utter-
ed in vain in the instance of my sister. She was preserved, although
she acknowledged herself to be naturally vain, and disposed to join in
every kind of worldly pleasure and amusement; and, from what I re-
member of her younger days, I have no hesitation in believing, that had
she been otherwise educated, she would have become a willing subject
for the gayest scenes of the fashionable world. She possessed no in-
"considerable share of address and ability, joined, in these younger days,
with personal attractions, which would have made such an education a
great, if not a fatal snare to her. To speak of personal attractions,
may appear beneath the object of this memoir; yet, as many are sup-
posed to take refuge in religion as a source of happiness, because they
are unable to gain the notice or admiration of the world, I am induced
to add, that the many candidates for her hand, which offered themselves,
form a sufficient proof of the contrary in the present instance.
In this place it may be proper to give a further intimation of her
natural disposition. I think it should be stated, (as we profess to give
a just description, and not to flatter,) that she was, on the one hand,
naturally irritable, and, as she confessed, volatile, and even vain. On
the other hand, those were unacquainted with her, who did not know
her to be of a disposition the most open, affectionate, tender-hearted,
benevolent, grateful, forbearing, generous, and disinterested. This was
joined to an exquisite delicacy of feeling and deportment, which mani-
fested itself on every occasion, and, united to her natural vivacity and
affability, made her generally admired, even by those who had little
knowledge of her sterling worth; in naming which, we justly sum up
her character as a Christian.
At the time in her mother’s death, which happened when she was
thirteen years of age, she was at the boarding-school of a lady of emi-
ment piety, who endeavoured to improve the important event, and to
impress it on the mind of her scholar. She was deeply sensible of the
loss she had sustained by the death of such a parent; yet, as it regards
that spiritual improvement of the event, which it was the endeavour
of her governess to effect in her mind, she says, (in a diary written
some years afterwards,) “I attended to her for the moment, but no lon-
ger.” She adds, in reference to this period: “I used to attend the
ministry of a faithful and animated preacher; but he had no power
to unstop my deaf ears, or to dissolve my stony heart. His words were
lost on me, as water spilt on the ground : I regarded them not.”
She goes on to state: “A short time afterwards, I chanced to view
some pictures representing the torments of the damned : on which I
MISS ANN BACON. 555
reflected, Will this ever be my case ? Conscious of my irreligious state,
I thought, if I were to die now, the miseries of the wretched victims
here represented, would assuredly be mine. Terrified at this idea, I
determined to fit myself for heaven, by reading, praying, and abstaining
from the thoughts of those worldly pleasures, the contemplation of
which had hitherto afforded me so much delight. But, alas ! I depend-
ed on an arm of flesh, or, in other words, on the strength of my own
resolutions ; and I found it fail. Only three days after these impres–
sions and resolutions, some persons were describing the amusements of
an evening spent at a play-house. I recollect wishing I had been with
them, and thinking, that if I did not give up my proposed reformation,
I must debar myself from much pleasure. I therefore determined to
defer it till I was older. On my uttering some sentiment of this kind, a
friend remarked to me, that I might arrive at a death-bed before the
period of my promised reformation. I thought, This is true ; but I may
repent then, as many have done before me ; and if I leave no testi-
mony of my repentance behind me, yet, if I do repent sufficiently to
gain heaven, the fears of my friends will not signify.” She adds:
“I shudder when I think of my dreadful situation at that time. My
state was that of the fool in the Gospel, defying God, and saying, ‘Soul
take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry.’”
The diary then mentions, that, in seasons of sickness, she was gene-
rally visited by serious reflections. Miss Bacon proceeds: “At the age
of twenty, a severe ague occasioned me repeatedly to make the follow-
ing resolutions: If I am restored to health again, I will certainly be
very good in future; I will become very religious, very strict, very cir-
cumspect. But no sooner did my health return, than all my resolutions
were broken, or forgotten.” She, however, mentions, that, shortly af-
ter this, the idea of public diversions and worldly company became less
fascinating to her, from discerning that very little dependence could be
placed on many worldly characters who called themselves friends, and
whose friendship, she perceived, was generally formed on some selfish
motive. She then mentions, that when any circumstance occured which
depressed her spirits, she was induced to pray ; and frequently, on such
occasions, has wished herself in a cottage, remote from society, where
she might give herself up to the duties of religion; but, when she re-
gained her spirits, prayer was neglected, and her mind constantly revert-
ed to some plan of worldly happiness. She remarks: “This shows the
folly and insensibility of the human heart. The road to true happiness
was before me; yet, I was preferring that, the end of which, but for Di-
vine mercy, would have proved eternal misery.”
We now come to a period of her history which is best related entire-
ly by herself; and shall therefore make a more ample extract from her
diary.
*saturday, August 13, 1791, I shall venture to call my spiritual
birth-day; and hope ever to remember it with grateful thanksgivings
to the Lord. As I was walking alone in a garden belonging to a house
we inhabited for the summer season, at Hampstead, I was employing
my thoughts on an inquiry, how I should conduct myself under the
different circumstances of my future life which might possibly occur.
The reflection came powerfully on my mind,-‘Perhaps I shall not live
to make the trial ; but the trial of a death-bed is what I am certain to
556 MEMOIRS OF
experience: am I prepared for that trial, should it be near at hand?”
Conscience compelled me instantly to reply—‘ I am not prepared.” I,
however, reflected, I am now on praying ground; and I will now en-
deavour, by Divine assistance, to make a friend of God, that I may have
Him for my refuge when that trying time shall arrive.” º
It may not be irrelevant, Madam, to remark, that, in this first dawn
of true religion upon the mind, mention is made, unlike her former ideas
of becoming religious, of looking for “ Divine assistance.” This is,
perhaps, the best criterion which can be appealed to.
Whatever an individual under religious convictions, may promise, or
however resolve, even if it be to do “some great" and good “thing;”
yet, if we do not perceive that he humbly looks for Divine aid, we have
reason to fear the result. But, for the consolation of the fearful, it may
be remarked, that the smallest beginnings may with confidence be en-
couraged, when only the two following points are observable; namely,
distrust of self, and a reliance upon Divine assistance. The example
before us may be proposed for the encouragement of such persons. I
am more particularly induced to make this remark, because it will ap-
pear to have been a considerable time before my sister met with the
comfort which she sought for.
Her narrative proceeds: “The following day, being Sunday, I hoped
I should enjoy in a greater degree than I had ever done a Sabbath before;
and determined to give particular attention to what I should hear from
the pulpit. I did so, but was much disappointed. . I heard a very ex-
cellent preacher; but comprehending very little of the meaning of what
he advanced, I could derive no comfort or instruction from his discourse.
Seeing that human teaching afforded me neither light nor encourage-
ment, I prayed earnestly to the Lord, that he would become my teacher,
and open my understanding.
“I had heard of some persons who have opened the Bible promiscu-
ously, and thereby obtained, as they have imagined, an answer suited
to their experience, in the first passage they have cast their eyes upon.
I did the same; but in this was also disappointed.
“On the arrival of the next Sabbath, I prayed, as well as I was able,
for Divine instruction; and particularly, that the Lord would send a
message of mercy to me through the mouth of the preacher, and which
should set my soul at liberty: for I felt at this time, as if bound with
cords that were becoming more and more tightened, and as if a cloud or
mist was before my eyes. I often arose from my knees in a degree of
darkness and distress beyond description. Unable to utter words, a sigh
was all that I could repeat at the throne of grace.
“When the Sabbath arrived, instead of gaining relief, I was, if possi-
ble, thrown into greater distress; and this by a remark from the minister
who preached, ‘ that those who do not connect a degree of zeal with
their devotions, have little evidence of their sincerity.’ This remark
was as though sentence of death had been passed upon me, as I felt
that I possessed a heart of stone, devoid of the least spiritual warmth.
I lay awake many hours that night, watering my couch with tears, be-
* Though it is thus related here, I have heard her say, that while her thoughts were em-
i. on her future plans of life, the reflection—“Art thou prepared for death?” came so
suddenly and powerfully upon her, that it seemed as though some one actually spoke to her;
which occasioned her audibly to reply in the negative.
MISS ANN BACON. 557
lieving that I was condemned to everlasting misery, and owning the
justice of the sentence which I apprehended had passed against me.
I now concluded that I had sinned the unpardonable sin; having so
often practically rejected Christ, and resisted my convictions respecting
Divine truth. Having, often slighted and treated with contempt, the
repeated invitations and offers of mercy with which I had been favoured,
I now concluded that the day of grace was past, and that I was there-
fore lost for ever. I seemed to feel that hope was denied me in this
world, because the gates of heaven were eternally closed against me.
All my relations, friends, and acquaintances, I believed I should see go-
ing to heaven, whilst I was forbidden to accompany them. The most
profligate character I had any knowledge of, appeared to be spotless
compared with myself.
“Notwithstanding this hopeless state of mind, I was impelled to cry
unto the Lord. My prayer was as follows: “O Lord thou art a mer-
ciful as well as a just God; permit me, at least while I am in this world,
to live to thee. Let me but devote myself to thy service while here
below, and I will then account it my greatest privilege to sing thy
praises afterwards; yea, when thou art passing sentence upon me.”
“The Lord heard my prayer, and had pity on my distress. A gleam
of hope entered my mind from these words which occurred to me,
‘Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth.’ I thought—there is a distant
chance this may be my case: ‘Lord, grant it may be so!” was my prayer.
“Much did I wish, at different times, for some religious conversation
with my dear father; though I could not venture to break my mind to
him. It was now two weeks that I had remained in great distress of
mind; but having taken pains to conceal it, it was not discovered by
any one.
“On the next Sunday, I again prayed that the Lord would send me
a message suited to my case, by the minister who might preach; resolv-
ing, at the same time, that if I were again disappointed, I would continue
praying till my prayers should be answered : after which, I went to Di-
vine service with a heavy heart, though somewhat relieved by a previous
conversation with my father, which arose from an inquiry, on my part,
as to the nature of the sin against the Holy Ghost. In the course of his
explanation, he told me, that connected with that sin was a knowledge
of God, yet, an enmity and hatred against him, even to a degree which
would, were it possible, deprive him of his throne. Then, thought I,
there is yet hope of mercy for me; for I am sure I love God, and would
rather die at this moment than live in the world without him.
“When we arrived at chapel, I found the person who was to have
preached, sitting with the congregation; and another minister, whom
he had brought with him, was asked to preach. What his text was, I
do not recollect; but I shall not soon forget these words, uttered in the
course of his sermon: ‘You who have a desire to know God, to love and
to fear him, though your faith be weak, and your ability so small, that
you can scarcely ask to have that little faith increased, fear not; the
Lord will remember you; he will fan the spark to a flame.’ This was
indeed Divine consolation to me; it was balm to my soul, a cordial for all
my fears. This I regarded as an answer to my prayer for a message of
mercy by the mouth of the preacher; and for this, “my soul did magnify
the Lord, who had regarded the lowliness of his hand-maiden.”
558 MEMOIRS OF
“On my return home, I ventured to disclose all that had passed in
my mind to my father. His conversation afforded me great encourage-
ment. He joined with me in thanksgiving to the Lord, who had brought
me out of that natural state of insensibility which attaches to the con-
dition of mankind in the world, and had given me to feel my spiritual
danger, and the need in which I stood of a Saviour and Redeemer.
“During the remainder of that day, and the day following, I was
very happy; but afterwards, my fears returned, as I could find no liber-
ty in prayer. A cloud seemed still to be before my eyes; and I was at
times greatly distressed in mind. My experience at this time was such
as I shall venture to call a hard conflict with Satan. He endeavoured
to persuade me I had been deceiving myself in the few hopes I had re-
cently entertained, and even in the credit I had given to the Bible itself.
This drove me to prayer. I called upon my Saviour in these words:
* Lord Jesus, assist me in this struggle with my spiritual enemy, that I
may withstand him, and that he may flee from me.’ My prayer was
heard, and answered. I would not encourage a fanciful view of the
experience of any one ; but mine at this time, was to me so surprising,
so clear and so impressive, that I should scarcely describe it too strongly
if I were to say, the cloud was removed from before my eyes, and I could,
as it were, see my Saviour smiling upon me, and protecting me with
one hand, while keeping off Satan with the other; and, while the enemy
seemed desirous to snatch me from him, I was enabled with confidence
to exclaim, “Get thee hence, Satan I for thou art described in that very
book, which thou hast lately been tempting me to disbelieve, as an ene-
my and a deceiver from the beginning.”
“After this, I found myself more at liberty in prayer ; but was con-
tinually fearing that I should relapse into my former state of insensi-
bility. From this apprehension, however, I was relieved by a sermon
which I heard from this text: “Mary hath chosen that good part, which
shall not be taken from her.” This sweet promise from my Saviour, I
applied to myself, and from that moment my fears on that head left
me.”
The narrative is here interrupted ; and, it appears, was not resumed
till nearly three years afterwards, when it proceeds as follows:—
“May 18th, 1794. Two years and seven months have elapsed since
I concluded the last lines.
“I now feel myself constrained to make a fresh memorandum of the
Lord’s goodness to me, that I may praise him for all that is past, and
be enabled to trust him for all that is to come.
“I still bear my testimony, that his service is perfect freedom ; that
his ways are ways of pleasantness, and all his paths peace. I trust I
* I had very nearly omitted this part of the diary, from an apprehension that it might be
thought to imply, that she imagined she was distinguished by a kind of vision. As, however,
there was nothing visionary about her character, I do not understand her as intimating any
such thing. We seldom have strong impressions of any occurrence, without forming an
imaginary picture in the mind of the scene which we suppose to be passing, and even of the
kind of place we are in at the time. When, therefore, she says, she had a clear “view" of
what she has here related, I assure myself, that nothing more is to be understood, than that
she was favoured with such a conviction of the mercy of God through Christ, as occasioned
an impression in the mind of what she relates, so strong as to embody it (as it were) into a
kind of reality; but not greatly beyond what we all experience at certain times, and frequently
allude to in referring to subjects on which no one thinks of charging us with visionary no-
tions.
MISS ANN BACON. 559
can now with confidence say, I have found the pearl of great price,
even Christ my Lord ; in comparison with whom, I count all things
else but as dross.”
She then continues the narrative:—
“On leaving Hampstead at the time alluded to in the last memoran-
dum, I had frequent opportunities of hearing some eminent ministers of
the Gospel. With rapture could I then say,+* Thy house, O Lord! is a
banqueting-house to my soul, and thy banner over me is love.” I who,
like many of old times, was afflicted with divers diseases, have found
the heavenly Physician, and have experienced his Divine power in
giving sight to the blind, and unstopping the ears of the deaf. Surely,
O Lord old things are passed away, and all things are become new.
My joy was now such as a stranger intermeddleth not with ; I possess-
ed a peace that passeth all understanding.
“When I had occasion to leave home again, I felt perfectly happy
in the delightful reflection, ‘Where I go, the Lord in his word has pro-
mised to go with me, and this will make any place a paradise ;’ and so
I found it.
“During our residence for the summer season, the next year, at
Little Chelsea, my experience was truly happy. When I retired to rest,
ardent praise for every spiritual and temporal mercy concluded the
blessed employment of each day. If I awoke in the night, my Saviour
was the first object presented to my view. This was a delightful season.
It was heaven begun below. I had been at Chelsea but a short time,
when I, with my two sisters, received an invitation from an uncle to
pay a visit in Worcestershire. At first, I was very reluctant to accept
it, fearing that I should have very few opportunities for retirement ;
but receiving a further and more pressing invitation, I was induced to
accept it.
“At this season of my experience, every greater and every lesser cir-
cumstance were turned to spiritual account. Our journey, which was
very tedious, and to me fatiguing, I was pleased in comparing, as I pro-
ceeded, to the journey of life, which is sometimes pleasant, but more
often rough and uneasy, yet, ever bringing us nearer home, where the
Christian is assured he shall arrive at last. The kind reception we met
with from our relations, produced the thought—When shall I be wel-
comed to the presence of my Saviour ! When shall I hear him say,
“Father, I desire that those whom thou hast given me, be now with me
where I am,’ &c.
“Our habitation was very much retired, being five miles from any
town or village, and surrounded only by a few humble cottages.
“I can remember, on a former occasion, paying a visit to the same
place, when I could hardly support my spirits, owing to the gloominess
of the situation, and the homeliness of the style in which (being at a
farm-house) we were received. But now, though apparently my health
and strength were declining, I was so often enabled, like the disciples
of old, to constrain my Saviour to abide with me, that I found the rough
farm-house changed into a palace, and this complete retirement to
afford the most blessed society. When, by chance, any noise awoke
me in the night, I was happy in being disturbed, as affording me an un-
expected opportunity of lifting up my heart to my Saviour, and of hear-
ing, I could almost persuade myself, the angels bringing (as to the shep-
560 MEMOIRS OF
herds in the night season) glad tidings of great joy to my soul; and
when I again fell asleep, my very dreams partook of the same peace and
blessedness. *
“On each morning, when I awoke, my first inquiry was, “When, O
my Saviour, shall I awake with thee in glory !” On seeing the ad-
vance of the morning light, my prayer was, ‘Now, Lord also lift up
upon me the light of thy countenance ;’ and, on the bright shining of
the sun, “Arise, O Sun of righteousness, with healing in thy beams ?
While dressing myself, ‘Let me be found clothed, and in my right mind,
sitting at the feet of my Redeemer.” When our table was spread, I
thought, When shall I sit down at the marriage-supper of the Lamb l’
When I saw the reapers working in the fields, I thought of that time
when the angels shall separate the chaff from the wheat, to preserve
the one, and burn up the other.”
“The sweet intercourse which I had at this place with my uncle
and aunt, in reference to Divine things, also explained to me the blessed-
ness which is to be enjoyed in the ‘communion of the saints.”f
“But, in the midst of all this blessed experience, I found the declara-
tion of Scripture to be true; that there is a spiritual enemy, who has
access to the mind. He seemed to be migh at hand, and only waiting
for permission to distress me. This he sometimes accomplished by
harassing me with doubts about the veracity of the Scriptures. On
this account, I was often brought before the Lord with a trembling and
broken heart, confessing my unbelief, and abhorring myself on its ac-
COunt.
“Before our return to London, we exchanged our rural common for
the bustle of a market-town. Here I had some new experience and
fresh temptations. The friends to whose house we were invited, in order,
as they supposed, to render the visit more agreeable to myself and sisters,
made for us several engagements; among which was one at the house
of a friend, who, however, had not exactly the same views of things as
themselves; and who had prepared such diversions for us as alone be-
long to a vain and fashionable world, and which, I am confident, can
afford no real enjoyment to those whose affections are “set on things
above,” nor even be allowed by those who are decided in being separate
from the world and its vain pursuits and amusements.
“Being partly aware of what was proposed, I wished much to be ex-
cused going ; but the whole party being made on purpose for us, I
could not frame a sufficient excuse. On the previous evening, I recollect
sincerely wishing that I might be taken ill the next day : my wish,
* I have been induced not to pass over this part of her narrative, although I am aware that
it may, by some persons, be deemed trite, and perhaps an enthusiastic spiritualizing of every
natural object and occurrence, so as to partake of an unwarranted disregard of the things
with which we are properly connected in this world. The disadvantage implied in this ob-
jection is, however, I think, fully counterbalanced by the example which, in addition to innu-
merable others, is here afforded of the effect of religion in giving happiness to the soul. This
example shows, that true religion is not merely a resource to which the melancholy mind may
resort for some kind of imaginary satisfaction amidst its splenetic reveries; but that it is a cer-
tain principle, able constantly to occupy the mind with ineffable gratification; and, so far from
occasioning a disregard of natural things, converts them into sources of real and rational en-
joyment, beyond what, I venture to believe, the objector is often favoured with. gº
f I should venture to consider a critique on this expression as captious and uncharitable.
My sister does not apply the title saint either to her uncle, her aunt, or herself. She is merely
in substance saying, “If the communion of Christians on earth be so delightful, what must
that of the saints in glory be tº
MISS ANN BACON. 561
however, was not gratified in this respect. While dressing to go to this
entertainment, I remember doing the occasion so little honour, as to be
wishing that, instead of being thus engaged, I were being arrayed in
the robe of my Saviour’s righteousness, and about to be translated to the
society of the blessed above, where no temptation could ever approach
me. During the evening, the company were much surprised that I de-
clined joining in any of their diversions. With some little exertion of
courage, I told them, these amusements were once gratifying to me, but
that they had now lost their charms. Before the evening was over, how-
ever, I found myself mistaken in this assertion ; for the influence of com-
pany and of repeated persuasion was such, that, had I not been con-
vinced the diversions were such as a religious character could not con-
sistently join in, and remembered that I had prayed against their influ-
ence, I should at length have made one among the rest. Instead of
the undivided objection and dislike which I had persuaded myself I
should feel through the whole of the entertainments, I found my mind
variously affected. At one time I thought, ‘You, my dear friends,
have your pleasure now ; I am looking for mine when I shall enjoy a last-
ing entertainment in the presence of my Saviour, and in the society of
angels and of the just made perfect.” Yet, at other periods during the
evening, I became light and trifling. The levity of a young clergyman
who was present, much concerned me, when I reflected on the impor-
tant office which he held, and the character which he ought to have
sustained as a preacher of righteousness, rather than affording an exam-
ple of gaiety and worldly pleasure.
“The next day we returned to our cottage, and, in a few days after-
wards, to London.
“One Sunday afternoon, soon after my return, when retired to my
room, and kneeling before my God under a deep sense of my own un-
worthiness, abasing myself in the dust before him ; I powerfully felt
the meaning of that Scripture which speaks of being ‘drawn with cords
of love.’ I had such a view of the infinite condescension and love of
God to lost sinners through Christ Jesus, of the beauty and excellency
of my Saviour, and the glory that surrounds him, that it was almost too
much for human nature to support.
“I lament, however, to record an example of the rebellion of the
human heart, notwithstanding this instance of Divine condescension
and communion. *
“About two months after this, an event occurred, which much agita-
ted my mind. In anticipation of it, I prayed earnestly for that compo-
sure of spirit which should enable me to meet the event with compara-
tive unconcern. When the time arrived, however, I found my prayer
was not granted ; on which account I felt a rebellion of mind, which,
till then, I could not have believed possible, after all I had known and
experienced. I carried my sinful indignation so far as to think, ‘There
is no God; or, if there be, I will not be subject to him.” . After this was
permitted to pass through my mind, (for it scarcely did more,) I felt a
very deep contrition of soul; through the remainder of the day, I appre-
hended myself to be a mark for some judgment ; and acknowledged,
that if the carriage in which I was riding had overturned, and broken
all my limbs, it would have been but a just recompense for my great,
though momentary, rebellion. At night, I endeavoured, as usual, to
71
562 MEMOIRS OF
offer my prayers and praises, and to commit myself to the protection of
Almighty God; but I felt that he was an insulted and offended God, and
knew not how to approach him. At length I said, ‘To whom else can
I go 4 Thou art my only refuge. I am unworthy to be called thy child:
yet, make me as one of thine hired servants Thou alone hast the words
of eternal life.” After this, such a flood of comfort broke into my soul,
such a persuasion of the mercy and forgiveness of my heavenly Father,
and this so unexpected and sudden, that I felt as though I could attri-
bute it to nothing but the previous intercession of my Saviour in my
behalf. I felt that, like St. Peter, I had been assaulted by Satan, and
had denied my Master ; but that my Saviour had prayed for me that
my faith should not entirely fail.
“Joy and peace in believing was now the blessed state of my mind.
“About this time, I had great enjoyment in the society (for such I
may call it) of a little sister, whose age did not exceed seven years. The
piety of this child was very extraordinary. She was one who was con-
stantly inquiring her way to Sion ; and a fitness for heaven seemed to
be almost her only solicitude 1 She would often retire for a long time in
the dark by herself, refusing to have a light, lest her attention should
be diverted from the subject of her prayer and meditation, to any object
around her. She would, with much delight, bring the Bible, and read
to me while I was at work; and would anxiously ask many pertinent
questions respecting what she read. Janeway’s Token for Children was
also a book with which she was often greatly affected and delighted. This
child has been observed to weep in the midst of a lively and numerous
company; and, on being asked the reason, has whispered, ‘ that she
was thinking what a wicked heart she had.” The Divine affections
which were wrought in the heart of this child, were preparatory for
what was quickly to follow. She was suddenly attacked by a putrid
fever, which, in a single day, deprived her both of sight and hearing;
but, in the midst of this severe visitation, we witnessed her lifting up
her hands and her blind eyes to heaven, being evidently engaged in
prayer. From the time she sickened, till within half an hour of her
death, which happened the next day, she was apparently the subject of
great suffering; but, during the last half hour, she seemed restored to
perfect ease ; and a sweet smile graced her countenance as she took
her flight !
“One of the other children having taken the infection, my father was
necessitated to seek another habitation, in order to remove the younger
part of the family from our house. One was immediately found at
Brompton; where having the care of the family now upon myself, and
my opportunities for regular retirement and meditation being greatly
interrupted, I soon began to lose the Divine light and joy with which I
had been previously favoured, and which was now succeeded by great
darkness and discouragement. I had, however, some consolation in
this reflection, that since the Lord had apparently withdrawn himself,
and the pleasures of religion had therefore fled, yet I was preserved from
seeking pleasure in any worldly object.
“. Either from the air of this place not agreeing with me, or from
having lost the presence of that Divine Friend in whom my soul delight-
ed, my health began to decline; I lost all my strength and spirits, and I
greatly longed for the time when I should be released from the care of
MISS ANN BACON. 563
the family. This relief I was favoured with in five or six weeks;*
but my spiritual peace and joy did not return. Finding this the case, I
determined to try what human resolution could effect; and, as I was
able to discern right from wrong, I was resolved that nothing should
move me from a scrupulous adherence to every thing which was right.
This train of thought, I am now aware, was connected with a self-
righteous spirit. All my actions, words, and thoughts, were to be
ordered with the strictest propriety. I, however, found, that, “when I
would do good, evil was present with me ;’ and my unceasing prayer,
therefore, was, that the Lord would restore unto me the light of his
countenance, and teach me more fully my entire dependence upon the
continual supplies of his grace, to enable me to maintain the consistency
of my profession. To this end I earnestly besought the Lord, and pour-
ed out my soul before him. At length I was enabled to appropriate to
myself those words of holy writ, “Fear not, for I am with you ; be not
dismayed, I am your God;’ and by degrees I regained that sweet
liberty which I had before so often enjoyed.
“Those who have no concern about spiritual things, will not under-
stand me, when I call the experience of these few weeks a time of trial;
it was, however, truly such to me. I could with deep sensibility of
heart, adopt the language of the Psalmist, and say : “Thou didst hide
thy face, and I was troubled.” Yet, I afterwards perceived the reason of
this spiritual desertion. Having for a long season been favoured with
the gracious presence of my heavenly Father, I at length began to think
that “my mountain stood strong, and that I should never be moved.”
This, I am now conscious, was connected with a degree of self-compla-
cency and spiritual pride: I was therefore left to myself, that, like He-
zekiah, I might learn a little of what was in my heart. That promise
was, however, at length fulfilled in my experience : ‘I will heal their
backslidings; I will love them freely;’ and I was afterwards favoured,
in a peculiar manner, with a ‘time of refreshing from the presence of
the Lord,' yea, with a state of mind so blessed, that I seemed to have
but one wish, namely, for ‘the wings of a dove, that I might fly away,
and be at rest” for ever. July 23, 1794.”
The diary does not extend further than the foregoing ; and I am
therefore unable to inform you of the state of her mind during a period
of twelve years after this ; excepting what may be gathered from vari-
ous letters written to her friends during that interval. These, however,
bear testimony, that the experience which her diary records, was not
the transient dream of a distempered fancy; but that she had cordially
embraced Divine truth, and had experienced it to be a glorious reality.
She knew that she had an immortal treasure within her grasp, and
seemed ever to be influenced by a remembrance of the Divine exhorta-
tion, “Hold fast that which thou hast, that no man take thy crown.”
Not only her various letters, but the testimony of all who had the plea-
sure to be much acquainted with her, evidence the spirit by which she
* Should it be suggested that a proof is here afforded, that much religion so occupies the
mind as to unfit a person for the duties of life, as a member of society; I beg to remark, that
my sister was a subject of extreme irritability and delicacy of health; and am induced to refer
to the memoirs of many pious persons, as records which prove, that, when eminent religion is
connected with health of body and extensive means of usefulness, no individuals have been
such active blessings in society, as those who have been distinguished by it.
564 MEMOIRS OF
was actuated on all occasions; and I must be allowed, as her near rela-
tive, to bear my decided testimony to the consistency of her walk and
conversation as a Christian. In giving an opinion of her, I endeavour,
as far as possible, to divest myself of that favourable bias which is sup-
posed to attach to a brother; but, as a tribute justly due to her cha-
* racter, I feel myself authorized to say, that few private individuals
have been more exemplary in their conduct, or more devoted in their
lives.
The persevering steadiness of her religious life, during a period of
eighteen years, is a point to which I am induced emphatically to allude.
She becomes, in my opinion, a witness to the reality of a religious prin-
ciple, to the efficacy of Divine grace, and to the very ‘faithfulness’ of
that heavenly Master whom she served, superior to many of those
whose history will include remarkable circumstances of trial, difficulty,
and even public utility. For the constitution of the human mind is
such as to enable itself, by preparation and resolution, to meet great
events, and compass extensive undertakings, in a manner which, in
appearance, approaches near to the character and effect of holy zeal
arising from religious principle ; and this really with little difficulty,
compared to the constant maintenance of an humble, simple, depen-
dent, consistent walk and conversation, through a period of many
years. * *
The nature of my sister’s situation in life would almost preclude the
possibility of my recording any event peculiarly entertaining, even if
we had ample documents for carrying our memoir regularly on. The
want of them is, therefore, the less to be regretted ; especially as we
are enabled to present her friends with a little of that confirmation
which her latter days afforded, of all which she had professed and expe-
rienced during the days of comparative youth and health.
About four years previous to her death, she had an attack of the
pleurisy, which was only introductory to the consummation of that ill
health with which she had been visited for several years, and which
terminated in a decline.
I beg leave to make an extract from one of her letters to a friend,
written about twelve months after this period. She writes: “You have
heard of the death of our valuable friend, Mr. Newton. This bereaving
providence made me anxious to show some attention to his afflicted
niece, Mrs. Smith ; and induced me to venture abroad in damp and
foggy weather, which is a great enemy to my lungs. My cough re-
turned with great violence, so that I could not lie down in my bed, and
my difficulty in breathing was very great; but, by the Divine blessing
on the means prescribed by Mr. Blair, I am now nearly recovered. I
need not tell you, my dear friend, the happiness of having the Lord for
my refuge. Though cast down, I was not forsaken : the arms of ever-
lasting strength were underneath me. I called upon the Lord in my
distress, and he attended to the voice of my supplication. O that I may
remember his goodness, and give glory to him Surely, it is good for
us to be afflicted; it empties us of self, and makes us humble and de-
pendent.”
Shortly after this, and on many subsequent occasions, she seemed to
be under great darkness of mind and doubt about her spiritual safety :
at which times, she frequently repeated that hymn of Mr. Newton’s
MISS ANN BACON. 565
collection, the cxixth of the first book. This depression, however,
seemed principally owing to bodily infirmity; as, on the partial return
of health, her religious comfort and confidence generally revived.
During one long continuance of this distressing state of mind, she re-
marked : “I hope, none of my dear Christian friends will be at all dis-
couraged by the lowness of spirits and want of confidence which at
these times they discern in me, but be enabled, in full assurance, to put
their trust in the Lord ; for though, at these times, for wise reasons, he
is pleased to hide his face from me, I know he is the same God, in mercy,
truth, and love, as when he is indulging and cheering me with the light
of his blessed countenance; and I desire to be thankful, that, in the
midst of my present depression, I am enabled to praise him for the jus-
tice of his dealings, and to believe that all is for the best I feel my
weakness so great, as not to be able to pray for myself at certain times;
but I can look to Him who is interceding for me, and whose prayers are
always heard.”
I here beg to give an extract from another of her letters, written
eleven months previous to her death.
“This weather is indeed very trying to my constitution. I am never
in a room without a fire, yet, I feel the cold affect me, and my cough
is very troublesome. But I have reason to be thankful, my breath is not .
so short as it was last winter, from which I suffered much, and was oblig- ||
ed to have blisters on my chest ; yet, I have almost lost my voice, and
it is painful to me to speak much. This is the affliction with which
my heavenly Father sees fit to visit me; and he knows much better
what is for my good, than I do myself. We are taught by his word,
that if we are without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, we do
not belong to the number of his children. He is indeed showing me
that he does not willingly afflict me, because he deals so gently with me.
I feel myself in his hands, to whom I have committed myself, body,
soul, and spirit; and I know he will keep that which I have committed
to him.”
While on a visit at my house for the last time, which was about three
months previous to her death, she expressed herself to the following
effect, alluding to the discouraging state of her mind: “I have a secret
hope, I may add, a humble persuasion, that the Lord will requite me
good for all which I have suffered.” And it is remarkable, that, from
the time of her paying this visit, her faith became progressively stronger,
and her evidences brighter, so as at length completely to triumph over
the adverse effect of bodily weakness and disease.
Two months before her death, she wrote thus to a friend : “As I can-
not return your kind visits in person, I must endeavour thus to acknow-
ledge my sense of them. The Lord has, in great mercy, recovered me
from my nervous complaint. No one but himself can know the dis-
tress of mind I have laboured under, this summer. I used to envy even
the very birds their happiness. But now, though my weakness in-
creases, and I seem daily drawing nearer the grave, the Lord has dis-
persed my fears, and delivered me from the dread of death. I think I
have not a wish to be restored to health again.”
Her sister Mary, who constantly attended her, alluding to this period,
writes to me as follows:–
“Her joy seemed too great for her weak frame to support; and she
566 MEMOIRs of
& .
frequently appeared as though at the gate of heaven before she left this
world ! Her vivacity, from this period, continued to the last, so that no
one but myself (with the exception of a medical friend) was aware
how ill she was ; and, though constantly with her, I was not myself ap-
prised of it to the full extent, till she confessed it during an accidental
conversation. It is my pleasure to bear testimony to the fact, that dur-
ing the whole of her long and afflictive illness, though the subject of
extreme debility and constant loss of rest, occasioned by an almost in-
cessant cough, I never knew any thing in the shape of a murmur to
escape her lips; unless, indeed, such observations as the following might
be esteemed in that light, though I think such a conclusion would be
unfair. On one occasion she said, ‘ I find the observation of Mr. New-
ton to be true ; that it requires, comparatively speaking, but an ounce of
grace to do the will of God, but a pound to bear it.’ On another occa-
sion, alluding to what she termed the folly of her having, in former days,
hoped at some period to be so situated as to be free from care of anxiety,
she said: “It was my wish to make me a nest, and to die in my nest;
but what a good man once said, I find to be true, that if we will make
our nest in this world, the Lord will put a thorn in it; and if that will
not do, he sets it on fire.’”
On the contrary, instead of a repining spirit, her promptitude in
noticing her subordinate blessings and comforts, was remarkable. While
she said little about her afflictive illness, she used frequently, and with
emphasis, to allude to the many privileges she enjoyed in the midst of
it; among which, she enumerated the visits, sympathy, and prayers of
Christian friends, the possession of religious books, and the loan of others,
and the having a sister to read them to her. In allusion to these, she
would say: “ As I cannot go from home to seek these mercies, you see
the Lord sends them to me.”
Aware of the deceitfulness of the human heart, and of the necessity
of a regular use of the means of grace, and especially of private devo-
tional retirement, she did not suffer any degree of bodily infirmity to
form an excuse for omitting the custom at any time. Indeed, a great
degree of order and regularity, was connected with her natural habits
and disposition. The same disposition which, in common things, occa-
sioned her to keep one purse for her clothes, another for general purposes,
and a third for the poor, displayed itself in every religious duty; so that
she may be said at all times, both in a temporal and a spiritual sense, to
have kept “her house in order.”
It had been her custom in earlier life, to retire for private worship
morning and evening, and, on the Sunday, three times: this she continu-
ed to the last, notwithstanding her increase of indisposition. Her im-
pression of the importance of not allowing any occurrence to interrupt
the season for retirement and reading the Scriptures, was such, that if a
letter came by post, which she had been long wishing to receive, or any
other circumstance took place at the time for her retirement, which seem-
ed to demand previous attention, she used to suffer all to remain unopen-
ed and unattended to, till the higher and more important business was
gone through at the usual length. “ Unable to walk alone, I have,” says
her sister Mary, “often supported her to her chamber, leaving her there
engaged in fervent devotion till she has knocked for me to help her back
again. This I continued to do, when her debility has been so great as
‘s
MISS ANN BAcon. 567
to compel me to dress and undress her without even speaking to her; as
the mere sound of my voice was frequently more than she could bear, in
addition to the fatigue of being dressed or undressed.”
In proof of that readiness to overlook her sufferings, and to recount
her mercies, which we have alluded to, she used generally, at the close
of every day, to make some remarks to the following effect: “How much
have I been favoured to-day ! I have had more fever to-day than yester-
day, but then, I have had less languor.” Or, “I have had more lan-
guor, but less fever; so that if one part of my complaint is increased,
another is mitigated.”
I need not inform you, Madam, that during the progress of her malady,
every means which human skill could devise or apply, was made use of
to rescue from the grave a member of society so valuable, and one so
greatly beloved by her relations and intimate friends, and so universally
esteemed by all who had any knowledge of her. Finding that medical
aid was ineffectual to arrest the progress of her complaint, change of air
was, in several instances, resorted to. A removal to Bristol, or some
milder part of the kingdom than the vicinity of London, having been
suggested by one or two friends, as affording a chance in her favour, she
seemed at one time very anxious to make the experiment; and so greatly
was her mind intent on this plan, that she seemed to consider every one
unfriendly who discouraged the idea. It must, however, be remarked,
that this was but nature clinging to life; and seemed to attach to her
only during the time of that distressing lowness of spirits, to which we
have already referred. * --
Her medical friend was asked, if he thought the proposed journey to
Bristol would afford a prospect of benefit. On his replying in the ne-
gative, and naming his reasons for that opinion, she burst into tears,
but added : “I ought not to murmur, or even feel disappointed, while a
conviction of the hopeless nature of my malady may be designed for the
good of my soul.”
We are now, my dear Madam, arrived at that part of our little memoir,
which presents my amiable sister to you within a few weeks of her
death, and when she had completely given up all expectation of reco-
very. And here we have a blessed example of the power of Divine
grace, to enable one who was constitutionally timid, to triumph over
the king of terrors, and even to welcome all the horrors of the opening
grave. In contemplating the experience of her closing days, we are
naturally reminded of the language of St. Paul, so often quoted : “O
death where is thy sting 4 O gravel where is thy victory !” Also,
of the following passages of holy writ : “Let me die the death of
the righteous, and let my last end be like his.”—“When thou passest
through the waters, I will be with thee.”—“Though I walk through
the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with
me.”
It is matter of surprise to me, that the fearless, the happy, the trium-
phant departure of the devoted and consistent Christian out of time
into eternity, is not more regarded, as deserving investigation by worldly,
and even infidel characters | There exists in our day a great spirit of
inquiry and researches into the cause of any phenomenon, however
little important its development may be, as adding to the perfection of
any particular branch of science ; yet, if it be a subject not completely
568 MEMOIRS OF
ridiculous, or one the discovery of which may be of the remotest ser-
vice to certain insulated individuals in society, it is deemed worthy of
minute investigation, and often even of laboured controversy. How is
it then, while all men are conscious that nothing is so awful and so
universally dreaded by mankind as death, and that it is a calamity with
which, sooner or later every one must come in contact, that so little in-
quiry is made into the nature of the Divine antidote against the fear of
death, which Christianity professes to afford 4 Much curiosity has lately
been excited about a person who report states, has lived for several years
without food. Much greater is the wonder, though, thanks to the
great Founder of our holy religion, by no means so uncommon,-that
mortals educated to believe in all the awful realities of an eternal state,
and in the deserts under which they labour as sinners against Divine
justice, of dwelling in the “devouring flame” for ever, that multitudes
of these should be found, by some means or other, longing to die,
triumphing over all the sensibilities of a nature most frail and timid,
and whose hearts, while the distant members have ceased to live, are
rejoicing with “joy unspeakable and full of glory !” Such an example
is afforded in the experience of my beloved sister, particularly within
the last few weeks and days of her final illness, when a certainty of
speedy dissolution was the immediate prospect before her.
On one occasion she said: “I understand there is no hope of my re-
covery ; but all is well. The Lord’s will be done. I have done with
the world. Oh I at such a time as this, what reality is there in reli-
gion l’’
C She frequently with much feeling repeated the following verses from
owper:
“O Lord! my best desire fulfil;
And help me to resign
Life, health, and comfort to thy will,
And make thy pleasure mine.
“Why should I shrink at thy command,
* hose love forbids my fears ? .
Or tremble at the gracious hand
That wipes away my tears?
“Thy favour, all my journey through,
Thou art engaged to grant:
What else I want, or think I do,
'Tis better still to want.”
Looking at her wasted and almost fleshless arms, she said: “The
sight of these withered limbs affords me solid pleasure; for, as I discern
the outward man to decay, so, through the mercy of my Redeemer, I
believe the inward man is renewing day by day.”
At night, when first laid in bed, she frequently said, “Blessed be
* To show that the Christian can adopt the same language, living and dying, I am induc-
ed here to make an extract from one of her letters to my father, written eleven years before
this period. She writes: “One lady told me, she thought I must be in a decline. Should
this be the case, I could rejoice if, while the outward man was decaying, I could feel the in-
ward man to be strengthening; but, alas ! it seems as if they were both going down togeth-
er. Though I can say, I desiré to love God as much as ever I did, yet, I fear I have less abil-
ity to do so. I can, however, sometimes take comfort from what Mr. Gunn once said; namely,
‘that a Christian in experience, is sometimes like a passenger in a ship—going forward, though
he often cannot feel himself move.”
MISS ANN BACON. 569
God I have another day less to be here ! I am another day nearer to my
journey's end.”
Alluding to the gradual departure of life without the experience of
bodily pain, the said: “The wise Master-builder is taking down the
house ; but he does it so gently, that the tenant hardly perceives it.
Yes, the house is coming down; but I have a building of God, a house
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens !—Oh I how I long to
shake off this clog, this body which weighs me down to the earth !”
The following hymn of Mr. Newton being read to her, she said, “Put a
mark on that ; it speaks the language of my heart.”
‘My soul! this curious house of clay,
Thy present frail abode,
Must quickly fall, to worms a prey,
And thou return to God.
“Canst thou, by faith, survey with joy
The change before it come ;
And say, Let death this house destroy,
I have a heavenly home 7
“The Saviour, whom I then shall see
With new admiring eyes,
Already has prepared for me
A mansion in the skies.
“I feel this mud-wall cottage shake,
And long to see it fall,
That I my willing flight may take
To him who is my all.
“Burden’d and groaning then no more,
My rescued soul shall sing,
As up the shining path I soar,
- Death ! thou hast lost thy sting.
“Dear Saviour ! help us now to seek,
And know thy grace's power,
That we may all this language speak
Before the dying hour.” ©
The Rev. Mr. Wenn, who came to see her, among other things said:
“The Lord is your portion.” She replied: “And what a portion He
is . Well is it for me that he is my portion,” she added, while being
supported across the room, “for observe what a poor, feeble, helpless
creature I am ; and, yet, I am commanded to “run, to strive, and to
fight.” The Lord has put me in the furnace of affliction; but he is
attending at it himself.”
Not many nights before her death, being extremely fatigued through
want of rest, which was constantly interrupted by a cough that render-
ed ineffectual every effort to gain sleep ; her sister Mary, who with un-
wearied assiduity and affection attended her night and day, involunta-
rily on one occasion, when she was disturbed by the cough, exclaimed
from the sympathy of the moment, “Oh how cruel !” She immedi-
ately rejoined, “Do not say so; all is right.” -
* Seventeen years before this period, she wrote thus to my father: “Oh! the joyful day
when I shall be called from this world of tribulation, beyond the reach of all my spiritual
enemies, and when I shall have done with sin and sorrow for ever! Each night, when retir-
ing to rest, my heart is gladdened with the thought, ‘one day nearer to my Father's kingdom
and my heavenly home.’”
72
570 MEMOIRS OF
On her intimate friend, the Rev. Mr. Steinkopff, coming to see her,
and conversing in a very affectionate, encouraging, and appropriate man-
ner, her joy seemed too great, and her heart too full, for utterance; her
tears alone could express a little of what she felt. She therefore merely
said: “I must not speak upon this subject ; for, were I to tell you all I
feel, it would make me quite ill.”
On receiving the visits of her younger acquaintance, she was par-
ticularly earnest in exhorting them to make religion their business in
youth, and to rely on Divine strength alone for ability to persevere;
; “What a mercy it is that I have not left repentance till a dying
Our !”
To the children of her sister, Mrs. Thornton, she said: “I am going
to heaven; and I hope I shall meet you there. I love you ; I love your
papa and mamma; but I love God better ; and, though it is our con-
stant duty to love our near relations and friends, yet, God demands our
first love. Love him, therefore, above all, and pray to him ; go to Jesus
Christ, who is all compassion, and who invites you to come and accept
of his great salvation.”
The enthusiastic reveries of religious visionaries are generally found
to absorb, in what they call personal experience, all regard for the sub-
ordinate interests of others. It is therefore proper to notice, though the
circumstance is not extraordinary, the great solicitude which our dying
friend manifested for the temporal, as well as spiritual welfare of her sis-
ter Mary. She told her, that the thought of leaving her, was her chief
concern; but, she added, I am cheered by the reflection, that I leave
you in the hands of one who ‘sticketh closer than’ a sister or ‘a brother,”
and whose friendship and counsel will be far better than mine would be,
though I were restored to perfect health.” She also always expressed
herself particularly gratified if any of the friends who prayed by her, re-
membered to pray for her sister; and seemed disappointed if they did
not.
Two days previous to her death, her old and intimate friend Mr. Blair,
coming into the room, said: “Mr. Cecil sends his love to you.” She re-
plied: I thank him : pray return mine to him, and tell him I am going to
my heavenly Father.— Feel my pulse.” Mr. B. remarked, “120 in a
minute.” She answered : “The worst is my panting for breath: it is
very oppressive and difficult for me to breathe. But I suppose, the
more difficult it is, the sooner I shall be dismissed. I assure you, Ham
not alone, my heavenly Father is with me.” Mr. B. said: “May
the Lord remain with you, Miss Bacon.” She replied: “And with you
also ; for you cannot do at all without him: you would be sadly off without
him. I bless him that I find him with me now : I am in the furnace,
and yet, I am supported.” Mr. B. added: “You are going where there
will be no pain, nor sorrow, nor sin, to enjoy the best of company for
ever.” She replied: “I shall be with my dear Redeemer. I bless God
for all his mercies; but especially for my sickness.” “Poor thing !” said
Mr. B. “Don’t say poor thing.” she rejoined; “I am rich in him who
has all riches in himself.” Mr. B. said: “When flesh and heart fail,
God will be the strength of your heart, and your portion for ever.”
She answered: “A good portion 1 Yes, He is my portion.”
Two days afterwards, Mr. Blair again called. It was Christmas eve,
and finding her sinking very rapidly, he said, “You will spend a hap-
MISS ANN BACON. 571
pier Christmas to-morrow than you ever did. You will celebrate the
day with Christ and his angels.” She replied with a degree of anima-
tion more than common, “Do you think so | Blessed be his name !
Yes, I shall surely be with him. I have told you the state of my mind
already, and what I have felt; I cannot now speak; but all is well.”
Shortly after which she breathed her last.
Her remains were interred at Epsom, in Surrey, agreeably to her desire.
On a small cenotaph placed over her grave, is the following inscrip-
tion, which she had requested me to write, and which was adopted by
herself in her last illness:—
ANN BACON,
Daughter of John Bacon, Esq. R.A.
Died Dec. 24th, 1809, aged 41.
*
While Flesh and Heart fail,
I desire the Marble which may cover my Remains,
To be inscribed as a Memorial,
Not to myself,
But of the Free Grace and Mercy of my
Iond AND Saviour, Jesus CHRIST :
By which alone I was, in early hiſe,
Brought to a knowledge of
Divine Truth;
Have been preserved from the Evils of the World;
And can now say,
*Notanything hath failed of all that the Lord hath promised!”
If thou, Reader,
Art a Seeker of the Kingdom of Heaven,
Accº for thine encouragement,
his Dying Testimony
From thy Sister in the same Redeemer.
Having been able, by a relation of facts, to give so happy, and, I trust,
so interesting a conclusion to this little memorial of my late invaluable
sister, I shall be excused from lessening its effect by intruding reflec-
tions of my own by way of improvement. I therefore merely add: Let
each one encourage in his own mind, such improvements as unprejudic-
ed reason may suggest, while it listens to the voice of conscience; which
ever faithfully whispers the true state of things between the soul and
that God who, after he hath “required the soul,”“ hath power to cast
it into hell,” or to translate it to a state of endless felicity.
I have the pleasure to be,
Dear Madam,
Your indebted friend and servant,
J. BACON.
Paddington, October, 1812.
L.A. D Y B U R F O R. D.
tºssmºsºmsºmºsºs
Though the records of the pious dead are not frequently graced with
the names of those who were dignified with worldly titles and ho-
nours, yet it pleases God sometimes to select the monuments of his
grace from among the rich and noble, to show that he is no respecter
of persons, but is rich in mercy to all that call upon him. In the course
of our work, we have given an account of several noble ladies who were
not more distinguished by rank than by piety. We now have to record
another instance.
Lady Burford was the daughter of Mr. Moses, an eminent merchant
in Hull, who had married the sister of Sir Henry Etherington, Bart.,
one of the aldermen of that corporation. Lady B. was the only fruit
of that union, her mother dying soon after her birth. And though her
father twice afterwards entered into the matrimonial connexion, he left
no other child to inherit his vast property. Lady B. was born in the
year 1767, at Hull. *
Being an only child, and, by the death of her father, in possession of
a large fortune, and in expectation of a very considerable addition to it
at the death of another near relative, she was brought up by that rela-
tive with the most anxious solicitude, and with a careful attention to
every thing that might qualify her for an elevated rank in society.
Her various accomplishments attracted many admirers; and she at
length gave her hand, in the year 1790, to the noble lord, whose title
she bore, afterwards Duke of St. Albans. * -
Thus dignified and introduced into high life, she was for a season
fascinated with the splendour and allurements of nobility, which seemed
to absorb all her thoughts, and gratify her utmost wishes. But it pleas-
ed God, by a series of trials, to convince her, that no situation, however
high and elevated, can secure to its possessor uninterrupted felicity.
These trials were made the means of promoting her best interests: she
meekly kissed the rod, and adored the Divine hand that, by this whole-
some discipline, brought her to the knowledge of herself and of her God.
That excellent book of the late Rev. James Hervey, “Theron and
Aspasio,” was the means, under God, of effecting this important change
in her religious views, and of exhibiting to her the source of true and
permanent happiness. She read it with pleasure, and drank in, like a
thirsty traveller, the refreshing streams of consolation there opened to
her view. She was led to see the insufficiency of her own righteous-
ness and method of salvation, on which she had been resting; and was
made willing to receive the Lord Jesus Christ, as the foundation of her
hope and trust. Weary and heavy laden, she heard her Saviour's gra-
cious call, “Come unto me;” she obeyed, and found “rest to her soul.”
Then, “what things were once gain” to her, with Paul, “she counted
loss for Christ.” Yea, she counted “all things but loss, for the excel-
lency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord.”
LADY BURFORD. 573
" Her first serious impressions were felt when she was about twenty-
five years of age, and soon after the birth of her only child. Trouble,
not so much bodily as mental, appears to have been the occasion of ex-
citing serious thoughts, of showing her the vanity of all sublunary
greatness, and of making Christ precious to the soul. " To this change
she herself adverts, in a letter written to her only child, the Right Ho-
nourable Lady Mary Beauclerk, and left with the Rev. John Waltham,
then curate of Ickleford and Piston, Hertfordshire, to be given to her af.
ter her mother’s death.
“ DEAR CHILD,
“When you receive these lines, I shall be gone to that dear Jesus,whom
I used to talk and read to you about. Pray now, take some of my best
advice; hear my faith, and pray to the Lord Jesus Christ to give you
the same. He was pleased to show me, at twenty-five years of age,
soon after you were born, that all my strict attendance on public wor-
ship, my many prayers, alms, and reading good books, would not make
me righteous. I saw that I sinned in whatever I did. I read that
precious book, Mr. Hervey’s Theron and Aspasio, which I particularly
recommended to you. I there saw, that I was to apply to Jesus
for every thing. I did so. He gave me to trust that I was pardoned
through his blood; justified, completely justified by his righteousness.
He has guided me hitherto by his good Spirit, and I am assured he will
stand faithfully by me in the last and trying hour of death. Yes; ‘this
God is our God, for ever and ever; he will be our guide, even unto
death.’”
The whole of her after life furnished indubitable evidence, that she
had believed unto righteousness. She soon joined herself to the people
of God, and never appeared to be ashamed to own whose she was, and
whom she served. She was moulded into the image of her Saviour,
and the graces of his Spirit shone conspicuous in her. If in one grace,
more than in another, she resembled him, it was in meekness and hu-
mility. Here she shone a pattern to all, especially to those of her own
rank and station. . She was most amiably condescending to all her in-
feriors, even to the poorest, and more especially the pious poor ; and
would enter the meanest cottage with pleasure, to converse and pray
with the people of God. She often attended the worthy clergyman
already mentioned, to the sick beds of the poor disciples of Christ, and,
with sympathizing tears, heard them relate their trials, their supports,
and consolations. She truly loved all who loved her Saviour, of what-
ever denomination, though herself attached to the established church.
Lord Burford having taken the seat of Mr. Browes, at Paul’s Walden,
Hertfordshire, as a temporary residence for three years, her Ladyship
attended the evangelical ministry of the Rev. Mr. Waltham, during the
greater part of that period, and till within a few weeks of her death.
Her attendance was uniform and constant. Even when they have had
company in the house, she has arisen the earlier, and arranged her
family affairs, that she might be enabled to attend, once at least, to
hear the precious truths of the Gospel, which she so highly prized.
Her attendance was also early. She never disturbed the congregation
by coming in after the service was begun. She might, indeed justly
574 MEMOIRS OF '
*
adopt the Psalmist’s words; “How amiable are thy tabernacles, O
Lord of Hosts My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth, for the courts of
the Lord,” (Psalm lxxxiv. 1, 2.) “Lord, I have loved the habitation of
thy house, and the place where thine honour dwelleth,” (Psalm xxvi.
8.) . Though, for the last few years of her life, she had to ride gener-
ally on horseback, upwards of sixteen miles, to and from the churches
where she attended to hear the true doctrines of the church of England,
those truths which she loved, and which were her support and consola-
tion in death; yet neither frost, snow, rain, nor bad roads, were suf-
ficient to detain her at home, or to keep her behind the time. Will not
some, even among those who profess an attachment to the same truth,
feel a sense of shame, and be stirred up to emulation, when they read
this, and conscience testifies, how prone they are to permit any trivial
accident, and even the appearance of unfavourable weather, to detain
them from the house of God, or to produce late and lame service Lady
Burford could say, with the prophet, “Thy words were found, and I did
eat them, and thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of my heart,”
Jer. xv. 16. She has frequently expressed, how much she has been ani-
mated and comforted under the word of God. This was, indeed, her
grand support and relief under various afflictions, and caused them to
appear, in her view at least, comparatively light. It was this that ena-
bled her to submit to them without a murmuring word ; fully confi-
dent, that, though her heavenly Father was leading her by a rough
and a thorny road, it was the right way to his kingdom.
She was a warm friend to the doctrines of grace, which she delight-
ed to hear set forth. She saw in her own case, that salvation was all
of grace, and that she was, by the grace of God, what she was. These
doctrines diffused their influence through all her conduct: she became
dead to the world, and her whole desire was, to live to and for God.
Though her ability to relieve her Saviour in his poor members, was not
so extensive as she wished, yet, by dedicating to their service what she
might without the least impropriety or blame have used for other pur-
poses, she was enabled to afford them frequent and seasonable relief.
Lady Burford was exemplary in every domestic and relative connex-
ion. It was her usual practice, and more especially on the Sabbath
evening, to collect the greater part of the female servants into a private
room, and there to read to and pray with them.
Thus bloomed this beautiful plant of the Lord’s planting ; diffusing,
by a holy and heavenly life, a sweet fragrance on every side. But it
was not destined to bloom long here : it was shortly to be removed to a
more genial clime, and being transplanted into the paradise of God,
there to bloom in eternal youth and vigour.
As we have seen the happy influence which true religion shed on
the life and conversation of Lady B., so, we may now see the support
and consolation it afforded her in a dying hour.
“The death-bed of the just
Angels should paint it. Angels ever there!
There on a post of honour and of joy.”
TYouNg.
Lady Burford's faithful and affectionate pastor, the Rev. Mr.
Waltham, had not the opportunity of visiting her during her last illness;
LADY BURFORD, 575
but was frequently informed by letter of the state of her mind, which
was signally comfortable and happy.
“Her God sustain’d her in her final hour !
Her final hour brought glory to her God.”
YouNg.
The 22d of June, 1801, was the first Lord’s-day that she was confin-
ed at home, though she had evidently been declining in health for
some time before. In the course of the folk wing week, she was taken
very ill ; and, from the excessive weakness of her mortal frame, appear-
ed to her attendants to be going. This was evidently her own impres-
sion at the time, for, in a very triumphant manner, clapping her hands
together, and looking joyfully upwards, as if prepared to take her happy
flight to heaven, she repeated again and again, “Oh how happy! Oh!'
how happy! I shall be with Jesus ! I shall be happy for ever, for ever !”
Her weak frame for a while sank under this exertion; but, when unable
to express all she felt, her lips were observed to move incessantly, and
her hands to be clasped together, as in the act of fervent prayer. Her
increasing weakness, however, would not permit her to converse much
without being exhausted ; yet she continued to evidence the fulness of
her joy, saying, “I am very happy, and long to be with Jesus !” She
saw the last enemy approaching, without any thing terrific in his appear-
ance, and could, say “My flesh and my heart faileth ; but God is the
strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.”
This happy state of mind did not, however, continue uninterrupted
during the whole of her illness. While she continued in health, she
had scarcely ever known what it was, to entertain a doubt of the safety
of her state, or to experience any cloud intercepting the light of God’s
countenance. Now, it pleased God to permit the enemy of her peace
to make a last attack upon her ; to fill her with tormenting imagina-
tions, and to deprive her for a while of all sensible comfort. She was
for a short time in great distress, and on one occasion was heard to ex-
claim, “Oh, what a dreadful night I have had All is dark around
me, and the enemy of my soul is harassing me !” But though the
grand adversary was thus permitted to sift and try her, he did not long
enjoy his seeming triumph over her : her Saviour soon restored to her
the light of his countenance, dissipated her gloom, and filled her again
with all joy and peace in believing. *
Under the influence of this blessed change, she called one of her at-
tendants to her, and said, “Write this down, that I have desired to leave
a testimony behind me, and it has been granted.”—“I know whom I
have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I
have committed unto him against that day.”—“Some one told me,
Heaven was not quite ready for me yet ; I must wait my appointed
time; but I long to go, and to be with Jesus (" In the middle of the
same night, she repeated the following passages of Scripture with great
emphasis and energy. “Hallelujah! for the Lord God omnipotent
reigneth !” “The vision is yet for an appointed time.” “I know that
my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the
earth. And though after my skin, worms destroy this body; yet, in
my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes
shall behold, and not another.” Once, on recovering from fainting,
576 MEMOIRS OF LADY BURFORD.
occasioned by the excessive debility of her frame, she said, “Oh why
did you bring me back? I seemed to myself to be going into heaven,
and heard them singing, Worthy is the Lamb, that was slain, to receive
power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory,
and blessing !” Rev. v. 12. Feeling that the time of her departure was
rapidly approaching, she desired her only child to be called into the room,
}. she might witness the happy state of her mind, and see her sleep in
€SUIS.
A few days before the Lord was pleased to release her, she looked
with a most gracious smile at one of her attendants, and said, “Now I
know that all is right. I shall soon be well.” At another time she
said, “I shall be with Jesus, and I shall be like him; for I shall see
him as he is.” She appeared to be frequently engaged in prayer, her
hands being folded together, as in earnest supplication ; and at all times
she showed where her heart and affections were fixed, and the heavenly
tendency of her whole soul. The last words she was heard to utter,
that could be at all understood, were, “Jesus, Jesus;” probably like
the protomartyr, when calling out, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit !”
During the whole of the last day, there was an inexpressible sweetness
in her countenance ; and she appeared more than commonly happy.
She expired on the 18th of July, 1801, in the 33d year of her age, and
was interred in the family vault of the Duke of Št. Alban's, at Han-
worth, in Middlesex.
Thus lived and thus died the Countess of Burford, an illustrious in-
stance of the riches of Divine grace, and a pattern of every thing ex-
cellent and praise-worthy in the Christian character.
Her Ladyship kept a Diary, wherein she registered the exercises of
her own mind, her observations in reading or hearing God’s word, and
any remarkable occurrences in Divine Providence, interspersed fre-
quently with ejaculatory petitions. The Rev. Mr. Waltham had been
favoured with a perusal of the two last volumes of this Diary a few
months before her death, each the size of a thick copy book. Could
he have availed himself of these, we should have been able to deline-
ate a more striking portrait of her religious character. But when her
Ladyship perceived that her sickness would be unto death, she gave or-
ders to her waiting maid to commit these documents to the flames, ap-
prehensive that an improper use might be made of them, by the per-
sons into whose hands they would fall.
MISS E LIZABET H S MIT H.
Miss ELIZABETH SMITH was born in December, 1776, at B , in
the county of Durham, where her parents then lived in affluence. She
was remarkable, in her early years, for a thirst of knowledge, for regu-
larity, and for reflection. During her youth, she does not seem to have
enjoyed any peculiar advantages, except in the instruction of her mo-
ther, who appears, from some of her letters, to have possessed an elegant
and cultivated understanding. In 1785, Mr. and Mrs. Smith removed
to Piercefield, a celebrated and romantic seat on the Wye; where, in
the summer of 1789, Elizabeth became acquainted with Mrs. H. Bowd-
ler, the lady to whom we are indebted for the interesting memoir of
her life. Notwithstanding the difference in their years, they soon be-
came intimate friends; and their friendship was terminated only by the
death of the former, or rather, suspended awhile, to be renewed for ever
in happier regions. By Mrs. H. Bowdler, Miss Smith was introduced to
another lady (Miss H.), to whom most of her printed letters are address-
ed.
In 1793, a bank in which Mr. Smith was engaged, failed; and this
unexpected stroke at once reduced the family from affluence to very
narrow circumstances. Elizabeth lost her books, her instruments, and
the command of all those elegant comforts and conveniences which are
generally deemed necessary to the formation of female character. From
that time till the summer of 1801, Miss Smith had no fixed home.
Some part of that period she passed with Mrs. H. Bowdler, at Bath;
several years were spent in Ireland, where Mr. Smith was quartered,
amidst the inconveniences and distractions of military cantonments;
and therest at the houses of friends, or in a hired house on the banks of the
Ullswater. Yet, it must have been during these years, and under such
disadvantages, that Miss Smith acquired that variety and depth of erudi-
tion, which justly rendered her an object of admiration to all who knew
her. After the year 1801, Miss Smith principally resided at a small
farm and mansion, which we collect to have been seated among the
Lakes; where, in the summer of 1805 she caught a cold, which, though
at first it seemed trifling, terminated her life on the 7th of August,
1806. She was, at the time of her death, not quite thirty years of
3.962.
*ēf the force of Miss Smith’s genius, and the variety of her attain-
ments, the reader will be able to form some judgment, from the follow-
ing summary, which is contained in a letter from Mrs. H. Bowdler to
Dr. Mumssen.
“The lovely young creature on whose account I first applied to you,
had been for above a year gradually declining ; and on the 7th of Au-
gust, she resigned her spirit to God who gave it. Her character was
so extraordinary, and she was so very dear to me, that I hope you will
73
578 MEMOIRS OF
*
forgive me dwelling a little longer on my irreparable loss. Her person
and manners were extremely pleasing, with a pensive softness of coun-
tenance that indicated deep reflection; but her extreme timidity con-
cealed the most extraordinary talents that ever fell under my observa-
tion. With scarcely any assistance, she taught herself the French,
Italian, Spanish, German, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages. She
had no inconsiderable knowledge of Arabic and Persic. She was well
acquainted with geometry, algebra, and other branches of the mathe-
matics. She was a very fine musician. She drew landscapes from
nature extremely well, and was a mistress of perspective. She showed
an early taste for poetry, of which some specimens remain ; but I be-
lieve she destroyed most of the effusions of her youthful muse, when an
acquaintance with your great poet, and still more, when the sublime
compositions of the Hebrew bards gave a different turn to her thoughts.
With all these acquirements, she was perfectly feminine in her dispo-
sition; elegant, modest, gentle, and affectionate ; nothing was neglect-
ed which a woman ought to know ; no duty was omitted which her
situation in life required her to perform.”
As, in every powerful engine, there are many inferior parts concur-
ring to give the principal agent its full energy, so, there were certain
circumstances and habits which favoured the development of Miss
Smith’s extraordinary faculties, and which, if they did not add to their
force, at least prevented it from being wasted. The following pas-
sages, while they mark the extent of her attainments, explain in some
measure her secret of acquiring them.
“When I first saw Miss S-, in the summer of the year 1789, she
was only in her thirteenth year, and her extreme timidity made it diffi-
cult to draw her into conversation : but even then, I saw many proofs
of very uncommon talents. We were frequently together during the
three following years; either at Piercefield, where Mr. and Mrs. S-
then resided ; or at Bath, where Miss S- and her sisters were often
with us. At that time, Elizabeth astonished us by the facility with
which she acquired information on every subject. She excelled in
every thing that she attempted. Music, dancing, drawing, and per-
spective, were then her chief pursuits; and she succeeded in all. But
even at that early age, her greatest pleasure seemed to be reading,
which she would pursue with unwearied attention, during so many
hours, that I often endeavoured to draw her away from her books, as
I feared that such close application might injure her health. She was
thén well acquainted with the French and Italian languages, and had
made considerable progress in the study of geometry, and some other
branches of the mathematics. At every period of her life, she was
extremely fond of poetry.
“In a few days after I went to Piercefield, my friends quitted it for
ever; and the young ladies spent seven or eight months with usin and
near Bath. The time which was thus spent with my mother, was
certainly of great advantage to my young friends; for she was extreme-
ly fond of them; and nothing can be more just than what Mrs. S- says
of her peculiarly happy manner of conveying instruction. Many of their
favourite pursuits had been interrupted. They had lost the sublime
scenes of Piercefield, which furnished an infinite variety of subjects for
the pencil. They drew extremely well, and Elizabeth was completely
º
MISS ELIZABETH SMITH. 579
mistress of perspective. Her musical talents were very uncommon: she
played remarkably well both on the piano-forte and harp, but she had
lost her instruments. The library, of which she so well knew the value,
was gone. Always averse to large parties, and with no taste for dissi-
pation, she readily agreed to a plan of employment proposed by my
mother, and we entered on a regular course of history, ancient and mo–
dern. At other times we studied Shakspeare, Milton, and some other
English poets, as also some of the Italians. We took long walks, and
often drew from nature. We read with great attention the whole of
the New Testament, Secker’s Lectures on the Catechism, and several
other books on the same important subjects. After my mother retired to
rest, we usually studied the stars, and read Bonnycastle's Astronomy;
which reminds me of the following circumstance:—Elizabeth told me
one evening, that she did not perfectly understand what is said in Bon-
nycastle, (p. 91,) of Kepler's celebrated calculation, by which he dis-
covered that the squares of the periods of the planets are in proportion
to the cubes of their distances. She wanted to know how to make use
of this rule; but I confessed my inability to assist her. When I came
down to breakfast at nine the next morning, I found her with a folio sheet
of paper almost covered with figures; and I discovered that she rose as
soon as it was light, and, by means of Bonnycastle's Arithmetic, had
learnt to extract the cube root, and had afterwards calculated the periods
and distances of several planets, so as clearly to show the accuracy of
Kepler’s rule, and the method of employing it.
“In such pursuits as I have mentioned, I could accompany her; but
in others, she had a much better assistant in our mutual friend, Miss
H–, who, fortunately for us, spent four months in our neighbourhood,
and was the companion of our studies and our pleasures. She led Miss
S— to the study of the German language, of which she was afterwards
particularly fond. She assisted her in botanical and other pursuits, as
well as in different branches of the mathematics. I do not know when
Elizabeth began to learn Spanish, but it was at an earlier period than
that of which I am now speaking: when she was with us, she seemed
to read it without difficulty, and some hours every morning before break-
fast were devoted to these studies. She acquired some knowledge of
the Arabic and Persian languages during the following winter, when a
very fine dictionary and grammar, in the possession of her brother, led
her thoughts to oriental literature. She began to study Latin and Greek
in the year 1794, when Mr. C–’s excellent library and improving con-
versation, opened to her an inexhaustible fund of information. She
studied Hebrew from my mother’s Bible, with the assistance of Park-
hurst; but she had no regular instruction in any language except French.
Her love of Ossian led her to acquire some knowledge of the Erse lan-
guage; but the want of books made it impossible for her to pursue that
study as far as she wished.”
Amid such pursuits and enjoyments, we need not wonder if
Miss Smith felt little regret for the loss of affluence. She had only re-
signed that which thousands enjoyed in common with herself; which,
though it may shelter us from some sorrows, can never confer happi-
ness; but she retained her best riches, those faculties and feelings
which are the true fountains of enjoyment, and which Providence had
bestowed on her with a liberal hand. Poverty neither dimmed her intel-
580 MEMOIRS OF
Hect, nor chilled her heart: and while her mind was daily occupied with
new inquiries after knowledge, her affections were cherished and satis-
fied with the friendship of those she loved.
It is surely profitable to observe how greatly Miss Smith was indebt-
ed for her resources, in the reverse of fortune which she experienced, to
her early habits of reading and reflection. These fortified her mind,
and enabled her, with Religion for her instructress, to form a just esti-
mate of the things which really minister to our happiness. These
secured to her friends whose conversation delighted and improved her,
whose approbation animated her ardour, whose experience directed her
pursuits, and whose tenderness excited, without fear of excess, the
most delightful sentiments of our nature. These furnished, through
succeeding years, the means of constant occupation, not constrained by
necessity, or by a dread of vacancy and restlessness; not limited to a
single pursuit, which becomes wearisome from its continued recurrence,
and narrows the understanding, even while it quickens the faculties ;
but always new, always useful, equally fitted for society and solitude,
sickness and health, prosperity and misfortune.
The following stanzas were composed by her in June 1792.
The sun, just rising from his watery bed,
Shook from his golden locks the briny drops:
The earth her many-colour'd mantle spread, .
And caught the crystal on her flow'rets' tops;
While Nature smil'd to see her rising crops
With brighter beauty glow, and richer hues;
As now the Night her sable chariot stops,
Each drooping flow'r, refresh'd with morning dews,
Lifts its gay head, and all around its fragrance strews.
So fair the morn, when Emma, fairer still,
Left the lone cottage, now her sole retreat;
And wander'd musing o'er the neighbºring hill,
With downcast eyes, which weeping look'd more sweet,
Down to the vale she turn'd her trembling feet;
There, in the middle of a shady wood,
O'erhung with trees, which branch to branch did meet,
Glided a gentle stream, where, as it stood,
Each bough its image show’d in the clear glassy flood.
Here paus’d the nymph, and on the bank reclin'd,
'Neath a large oak, fann’d by each gentle gale,
She swell'd the brook with tears, with sighs the wind,
And thus her melancholy fate 'gan wail:
And ye, who read her sad and mournful tale,
Oh! drop one tender sympathetic tear!
Think that the best of human kind is frail,
Nor knows the moment when his end is near;
But all sad Emma's hapless fate must fear.
“How fair each form, in youthful fancy's eyes,
Just like the tender flow’rs of blooming May;
Like them in all their beauty they arise,
Like them they fade, and sudden die away.
We mourn their loss, and wish their longer stay,
But all in vain;–no more the flow’rs return,
Nor fancy's images divinely gay !
So passed my early youth: then, in its turn,
Each fancied image pleas'd ; for each at times I burn.
MISS ELIZABETH SMITH. 581
How charming then o'er hill and vale to stray,
When first the sun shot forth his morning beam;
Qr when at eve he hid his golden ray,
To climb the rocks, and catch the last faint gleam;
Or when the moon imbrued in blood did seem,
To watch her rising from the distant hill,
Her soft light trembling on the azure stream,
Which gently curl’d while all beside was still;
How would such scenes my heart with admiration fill!
“But now, alas! these peaceful days are o'er;
Fled like the summer breeze that wakes the dawn,
Wafts spicy odours swift from shore to shore,
And gathers all the fragrance of the lawn;
Yet, ere his noon-day crown the sun adorn,
'Tis past, 'tis gone; no more the scorching plains
Can show where blew the gentle breath of morn.
The brook, the cattle, and the shepherd swains,
All seek the shade;—but peace for Emma none remains.
The canzonet which follows, styled “Song from afar,” is taken from
a German poem by Matthison.
When in the last faint light of evening,
A smiling form glides softly by,
A gentle sigh its bosom heavin
ile thou in oaken grove dost lie;
It is the spirit of thy friend,
Which whispers—“All thy cares shall end.”
When in the mild moon’s peaceful twilight
Foreboding thoughts º dreams arise,
And, at the solemn hour of midnight,
Paint fairy scenes before thine eyes;
The poplars give a rustling sound,+
It is my spirit hovers roun
When, deep in fields of ancient story,
Thou hang'st enraptur'd o'er the page
That gives and takes the meed of glory;
. thou a breath that fans thy rage 7
And does the trembling torch burn pale 7–
My spirit drinks with thine the tale.
Hear'st thou, when silver stars are shining,
A sound as Eol's harp divine,
Now the wild wind full chords combining,
Now softly murm'ring—“Ever thine P’
Then careless sleep:—to guard thy peace,
My watchful spirit ne'er shall cease.
By far the most striking parts of her writings are the reflections on
various subjects, which were found among her papers after her death.
We have room only for a few specimens.
“Humility has been so much recommended, and is indeed so truly
a Christian virtue, that some people fancy they cannot be too humble.
If they speak of humility towards God, they are certainly right ; we
cannot, by the utmost exertion of our faculties, measure the distance
between Him and us, nor prostrate ourselves too low before Him ; but
with regard to our fellow-creatures, I think the case is different.
Though we ought by no means to assume too much, a certain degree
of respect to ourselves is necessary to obtain as proportionate degree
from others. Too low an opinion of ourselves will also prevent our un-
582 * MEMOIRS OF
dertaking what we are very able to accomplish, and thus prevent the
fulfilment of our duty; for it is our duty to exert the powers given
us to the utmost, for good purposes; and how shall we exert powers
which we are too humble-minded to suppose we possess 4 In this par-
ticular, as in all others, we should constantly aim at discovering the
truth. Though our faculties, both intellectual and corporal, be abso-
lutely nothing compared with the Divinity, yet, when compared with
those of other mortals, they rise to some relative value ; and it should
be our study to ascertain that value,in ordel that we may employ them
to the best advantage; always remembering, that it is better to fix it
rather below than above the truth.
“It is very surprising that praise should excite vanity ; for if what is
said of us be true, it is no more than we knew before, and cannot raise
us in our own esteem; if it be false, it is surely a most humiliating re-
flection, that we are only admired because we are not known, and that
a closer inspection would draw forth censure, instead of commendation.
Praise can hurt only those who have not formed a decided opinion of
themselves, and who are willing, on the testimony of others, to rank
themselves higher than their merits warrant, in the scale of excellency.
“Study is to the mind what exercise is to the body : neither can be
active and vigorous without proper exertion. Therefore, if the acquisi-
tion of knowledge were not an end worthy to be gained, still, study
would be valuable on its own account, as tending to strengthen the mind;
just as a walk is beneficial to our health, though we have no particular
object in view. And certainly, for that most humiliating mental dis-
order, the wandering of the thoughts, there is no remedy so efficacious
as intense study.
“An hour well spent condemns a life. When we reflect on the sum
of improvement and delight gained in that single hour, how do the
multitude of hours already past, rise up and say, What good has marked
us ! Wouldst thou know the true worth of time, employ one hour.
“To read a great deal, would be a sure preventive of much writing,
because almost every one might find all he has to say, already written.
“A happy day is worth enjoying; it exercises the soul for heaven.
“Happiness is a very common plant, a native of every soil; yet is
some skill required in gathering it; for many poisonous weeds look like
it, and deceive the unwary to their ruin.”
The following minute bears date January 1, 1798. It was written
by Miss Smith at the end of a pocket-book, which contained some part
of the reflections given in the Memoir. The writer was then just one-
and-twenty. .. g --
“Being now arrived at what is called years of discretion, and looking
back on my past life with shame and confusion, when I recollect the
many advantages I have had, and the bad use I have made of them,
the hours I have squandered, and the opportunities of improvement I
have neglected ;-when I imagine what with those advantages I ought
to be, and find myself what I am ;-I am resolved to endeavour to be
more careful for the future, if the future be granted me ; to try to make
amends for past negligence, by employing every moment I can com-
mand to some good purpose ; to endeavour to acquire all the little
knowledge that human nature is capable of on earth, but to let the
word of God be my chief study, and all others subservient to it; to mode
MISS ELIZABETH SMITH. 583
myself, as far as I am able, according to the Gospel of Christ; to be
content while my trial lasts ; and, when it is finished, to rejoice, trust-
ing in the merits of my Redeemer. I have written these resolutions to
stand as a witness against me, in case I should be inclined to forget
them, and to return to my former indolence and thoughtlessness, because
I have found the inutility of mental determinations. May God grant
me strength to keep them ſ”
Among the reflections, there are many which strongly breathe a spirit
of humility, dependence, and devotion. We see, indeed, in almost
all of them, a mind deeply impressed with the value of religion, and
the vanity of worldly things. The following are peculiarly striking.
“The Christian life may be compared to a magnificent column,
whose summit always points to heaven. The innocent, and therefore
real pleasures of this world, are the ornaments on the pedestal ; very
beautiful, and highly to be enjoyed when the eye is near, but which
should not too long or too frequently detain us from that just distance,
where we can contemplate the whole column, and where the ornaments
on its base disappear.
“The cause of all sin is a deficiency in our love of God. If we really
loved Him above all things, we should not be too strongly attached to
terrestrial objects, and should with pleasure relinquish them all to please
him. Unfortunately, while we continue on earth, our minds are so
much more stongly affected by the perception of the senses than by ab-
stract ideas, that it requires a continual exertion to keep up even the re-
membrance of the invisible world. • *-8&ºts: .
“When I hear of a great and good character falling into some hein-
ous crime, I cannot help crying, ‘Lord, what am I, that I should be ex-
empt? O preserve me from temptation, or how shall I stand, when so
many, much my superiors, have fallen P
“Perhaps there is nothing more difficult to guard against, than the
desire of being admired; but I am convinced that it ought never to be
the motive for the most trifling action. We should do right, because it
is the will of God: if the good opinion of others follow our good con-
duct, we should receive it thankfully, as a valuable part of our reward;
if not, we should be content without it.
“Hope without foundation is an ignis fatuus; and what foundation
can we have for any hope, but that of heaven'ſ
“Great actions are so often performed from little motives of vanity,
self-complacency, and the like, that I am more apt to think highly of
the person whom I observe checking a reply to a petulant speech, or
even submitting to the judgment of another in stirring the fire, than
of one who gives away thousands.” +
Such, among others, are the indications of piety and good sense which
Miss Smith's writings furnish, and which are amply confirmed by the tes-
timony of her friends. The following extract is from a letter written by
Mrs. H. Bowdler, in September, 1806.
“But the part of her character on which I dwell with the greatest
satisfaction, is that exalted piety which seemed always to raise her above
this world, and taught her, at sixteen years of age, to resign its riches
and its pleasures almost without regret, and to support with dignity a
very unexpected change of situation. For some years before her death,
the Holy Scriptures were her principal study; and she translated from
584 MEMOIRS OF MISS SMITH.
the Hebrew the whole book of Job, &c. &c. How far she succeeded
in this attempt, I am not qualified to judge; but the benefit, which she
herself derived from these studies, must be evident to those who witness-
ed the patience and resignation with which she supported a long and
painful illness, the sweet attention which she always showed to the feel.
ings of her parents and friends, and the heavenly composure with which
she looked forward to the awful change which has now removed her to
a world, ‘where (as one of her friends remarked) her gentle, pure, and
enlightened spirit will find itself more at home than in this land of
shadows,” 22
Miss Smith's religion, it must be remembered, was not raised in the
hot-bed of controversy, nor trained up in the nurseries and forced soil
of a party. It was less the offspring of feeling than of reflection; but
it taught her seriousness and humility, kindness, resignation, and con-
tentment. It sustained her through the trials of life, and cheered her
dying hours.
MISS HENRIETTA NE A. L. E.
Miss HENRIETTA NEALE was born in London, her father being a citi-
zen of the metropolis. Her mother was the only child of Mr. William
Whately, a gentleman of Bromley, near Bow, Middlesex. On being
left a widow with five young children, she retired with them, first to her
mother’s house, and soon, afterwards, on the decease of the latter, to
Northampton. Mrs. Neale was descended, by the maternal line, from
pious French Protestants, who took refuge in this country from the per-
secution of Lewis XIV. The favour of God so rested on the family of
these oppressed Christians, that it is believed never to have been desti-
tute of a seed to serve him. Mrs. Neale trained up her children in the
fear of the Lord, with the happiest success; and through his blessing on
her laudable exertions, they discovered, in early years, a love to the
ways of Christ.
Henrietta, the subject of this Memoir, was early distinguished by ha-
bits of piety and a love of religious retirement. She was in the practice
of committing her daily thoughts to writing, from the age of sixteen.
A selection from these papers is given at the end of this memoir. When
seventeen years old, she thus writes:—“Our blessed Redeemer has
said in his word, we must examine ourselves. How little have I been
found in that duty This night I have searched my own heart. My sins
are more in number than the hairs of my head | The remembrance of
them is grievous, and the burden intolerable. I should be quite cast
down, were it not for those comfortable words, ‘Come unto me, all ye
that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’”
A short time afterwards, she writes:—“O Lord, grant that I may be
more constant in prayer | What could such a sinner as I do, if it were
not for my blessed Redeemer, who laid down his life for such as I am 1
I cannot but lament how ill I have spent my time : but do thou, O Lord,
for the future, enable me to redeem it ; for, without thee, I can do no-
thing. Wean me from this world ! Yet, thanks to my God, I can
say I enjoy more true pleasure in my closet, than any this world can
afford l?” * *
At Northampton, the family attended on the ministry of the late Rev.
John Ryland ; and the three daughters, Elizabeth, Leonora, and Hen-
rietta, joined the church under his pastoral care. On that occasion,
Miss H. Neale observes : “ I was enabled, though in an imperfect
manner, yet, with composure and comfort, to declare in Sion what God
has done for my soul; and was admitted as a member. O that I
may walk worthily 1 May I be like Daniel, whose enemies could
bring nothing against him as an accusation, but in the matters of his
God!”
* In 1789, Mrs. Neale and her two younger daughters removed to Lu- .
ton, to reside in the same house with her widowed daughter, Mrs. Chase,
who was left with three young children. As Mrs. Chase devoted her
'74
586 MEMOIRS OF
time chiefly to the education of her children, the attention of her sisters
was naturally attracted to the same object; and a very pleasing and in-
structing volume, entitled “Amusement Hall,” was, in consequence,
written by Miss H. Neale, and published in 1794. Her talents and
taste for the tuition of children were fully demonstrated in that work;
and at this period, Mrs. Chase made an alteration in her domestic ar-
rangements, which afforded increasing scope to her exertions. At the
request of her friends, she opened a boarding school. Before her sister's
arrangements became so extensive as to occupy all her time, Miss Neale
published, early in 1796, her Sacred History, in Familiar Dialogues, in
three volumes; to which was afterwards added a fourth, containing an
Abridgment of the Jewish History, connecting the Old and New Tes-
tament, in Sixteen Letters. This work is incomparably the best
extant, as a guide for young persons to an acquaintance with the his-
torical parts of Scripture.
While the minds of these pious sisters were thus intent upon the
spiritual and temporal improvement of the rising generation, they were
by no means indifferent to the more enlarged plans of usefulness which,
during this period, occupied the attention of many religious people in
this country. The advancement of the Gospel, whether among our
ignorant neighbours, the Jewish nation, or the heathen world, excited in
their minds a lively interest. In 1797, Miss H. Neale published a pam-
phlet, entitled “ Britannus and Africus; or an attempt to instruct the
Untutored Mind in the Principles of Christianity: in a Course of Con-
versations, supposed to take place between the Companion of a Missiona-
ry and a Native of Africa.” . The ingenuity and familiar simplicity
which rendered her former productions so serviceable to children, are, in
this smaller work, applied to the benefit of heathen minds; and are
likewise well adapted to the advantage of the ignorant multitude in any
country. These publications met with extensive encouragement, and
excited in the minds of many parents and friends of youth, a wish for
the continuance of Miss Neale’s literary exertions; but her time becom-
ing closely occupied with the labour of tuition, she was, though with
regret, obliged to give up this additional application, and their hopes in
this respect were disappointed.
In March 1798, this estimable family sustained a severe loss by the
death of Mrs. Chase. Her aged mother had died in the faith only a
year before. The work of tuition was thereby rendered more laborious
to Miss H. Neale and her surviving sister. Their distress was however
consoled, and their labours amply rewarded, by the blessing of God visi-
bly resting upon several of the children committed to their charge, and
especially those of their deceased sister. The Miss Neales spent the
midsummer vacation of 1802, at Brighthelmstone; where a scene of
affliction commenced, that can only be described by an eye-witness. The
following letter from Miss Leonora Neale to a friend at Northampton,
will convey the best idea of the distressing circumstances with which
she was surrounded, as well as of the support afforded her in this time
of extremity.
MY DEAR MADAM, *
Accept my sincere thanks for your kind favour and sympathy. I feel
afflicted very much ; but, blessed be God, I can live upon a taking, as
MISS HENRIETTA NEALE. 587
well as a giving God, and love him as much as ever, yea, more; for he
knows what is best for me and mine. ‘Sayye to the righteous, It shall be
well with him.” If the Son of God puts us in the furnace, he will walk
with us in it; and nothing shall that fire consume but our dross. Here
I am in the midst of it. Oh, in what distressing scenes have I been
during the last fortnight ! Happy were we all, before that time, in the
enjoyment of lawful pleasures: but ah! how soon they were blasted
We took two lovely children with us to Brighton, to enjoy the sea-air
and bathing: one had been ill, and went on account of her health; the
eldest, between eight and nine years old, in full health, was taken ill on
Friday, July 9, and was a corpse on Monday; the fever a putrid one.
The doctor desired we would all quit the house as soon as possible; but
one must stay till the child’s friends could come. Oh, how satisfied do
I feel, that I offered myself to stop in the post of danger I Had I left
my sister, I should now have been wounded by sad reflection. The
Lord knew, though we did not, the need we should stand in of Christian
sympathy and consolation, and raised us up friends indeed, to console
and assist us. A lady, who keeps a boarding-house, and who lived next
door to us, kindly took in our dear children from the infection. The
day they all left me, my servant was taken ill; and only a nurse besides
was in the house. That night, what were my feelings Myself and the
dear little corpse alone on the same floor, and the servant ill above . I
thought I was like a bush burning, but not consumed. I knew not but
that I might be the next victim. I could not tell how it might terminate
with her, or how it might end with me. In the midst of all, I thought
I saw, by the eye of faith, the angel of the covenant stand between the
living and the dead, to stay the plague, and saying unto me, “Fear not,
I am with thee; be not dismayed, I am thy God. I will help thee; yea,
I will uphold thee by the right hand of my righteousness,’ Oh, what
a sweet season was this to my soul | I could tell the Lord that I was
well satisfied with all that he had done, and even with my doleful situa-
tion. I could tell him that I was just where he wished me to be, and
in circumstances that he willed me to be in ; and my will was lost or
swallowed up in his : so great was the oneness of soul that I then found
with Christ. I was nothing : Christ was all in all, and my all. Oh,
what a precious gift He gave himself for me; he gives himself to me !
What need I more ? I have all. Little did I then think, that the fur-
nace of affliction was to be heated seven times hotter, and that he was
preparing me to bear it. On the Lord's day following, I received a letter
from my dear sister, informing me, that she and Eliza were both ill ; but
begging me not to return till the Lord released me. The surgeon, who
tenderly sympathized with us, begged me to set off immediately, as he
was certain the servant was sufficiently recovered to bear the journey
well. I arrived safe on Monday, found Eliza nearly well; and they
told me my sister was better. But when I saw her, oh, how altered
Her throat so bad, that I could hardly understand what she said. I asked
her how she was in her mind. She said, Quite easy and composed ; she
was in the Lord's hand; but, in her weak state, she could not bear the
joy I had been favoured with. She thought the Lord meant to raise her
up for the sake of the three dear orphans, for whose sakes she wished to
live; otherwise she should think it far better to depart. This she fre-
quently said to me before her illness. Her heart was set upon heavenly
588 MEMOIRS OF .
sº ºr
things; and to do the will of God was her delight; nor would she ever
take any step in life without being assured it was his will. Ah, little
did she think, that she was so near that heavenly mansion prepared for
her, and she for it ! On Wednesday afternoon, July 21, she departed.
Oh, it was sudden, it was unexpected glory ! I was by. , Death enter-
ed, not with the grim visage of a ghastly monster, but with the placid,
serene appearance of a conducting angel, gently opening the temple-
door, without alarming the heavenly inhabitant; who, finding herself
at liberty, claps her glad wings, and soars aloft to the full enjoyment of
her Lord and her God. And here am I left alone; and yet I am not
alone, for my God is with me, fulfilling all his promises, strengthening
me with strength in my soul, upholding me with the right hand of his
righteousness, guiding me by his counsel. My dear madam, there are
a few (perhaps more than a few) left, who used to love us, and with
whom we took sweet counsel, and walked to the house of God in com-
pany, communicating our sorrows, and our joys. Let this epistle be read
amongst them. I cannot write to each of them, but I love them all; and
gladly would I communicate to them anything that may tend to strength-
en their faith, and encourage them to trust in the Lord at all times. I
am a living witness, and can declare that it is impossible to expect more
from God than he will give. ‘He will withhold no good thing from
them that walk uprightly.” If sharp trials be good, he will not withhold
them. He knows what is best for you, for me, and for all his. I know
your tender sympathy. You know the wound I feel, though I adore the
tender hand of him that strikes the blow. “Trials make the promise
sweet; trials give new life to prayer.” Oh, praise the Lord, for his mer-
cy endureth for ever. I may never again address you. I could not
now refrain. May every blessing rest upon your dear pastor, and all of
you ! Strengthen one another; communicate to each other the faith-
fulness of God to his word. Trust him when you cannot trace him :
clouds may hide the sun, but it shines nevertheless. Accept my thanks
for all your tender sympathy, and believe me to be unalterable in my
affection for that church with which I had the honour to be united.
L. N.
Miss Henrietta Neale returned to Luton, with her nieces, on Wednes-
day the fourteenth of July. The following day she was seized with a
fever; but neither she nor her friends apprehended that it would be fa-
tal. She said, that she thought the Lord had more work for her to do,
and meant to restore her; but added, “Perhaps the Lord is about to
show that he can do without me.” Through the whole of her short,
but sharp illness, she was serene and easy in her mind. Early on Tues-
day, the twentieth, hearing it observed that the morning was very fine,
she desired that the curtains might be drawn aside. The sun was just
then gilding with its radiance the tops of the neighbouring hills. She
remarked it, and said, “O what a glorious sun But I have a better,
the eternal Sun of Righteousness I’” In the course of that day, she was
speaking of the terrors of mind that some endure on a sick-bed in the
view of death ; a friend said to her, “But you have none.” She re-
plied, “No ; I leave myself in the hands of the Lord. What a mercy
it is to have God for our portion 1 A whole world were I in possession
of it, could afford me no comfort now.”
MISS HENRIETTA NEALE. 589
*
Other particulars are thus related by Miss L. Neale:—“On Wednes-
day morning, she appeared better; the fever turned; and we flattered
ourselves that the worst was over. She was taken up and seated in an
easy chair ; but soon afterwards became worse, and was lifted on the
bed, where she sat apparently easy. She spoke to her two nieces, who
were by her ; but her throat was so much disordered, that little more
than the purport of what she said could be understood. She exhorted
them to keep close to God by prayer; assuring them of her tender affec-
tion towards them ; and that, if she had ever seemed sharp in any of
her reproofs, it was from love, and for their good. She likewise spoke
very affectionately to her attendants, exhorting them to serve the Lord
with full purpose of heart. She particularly addressed one who had
been dangerously ill with the fever, at Brighthelmstone. She after-
wards spoke to me alone ; and desired me to tell our pupils, when they
should return, the feelings of her heart towards them. After she had
done speaking to me, and the attendants returned, she said, ‘You stand
weeping around me, as if you thought me dying ; but I am not.” She
assigned a reason for supposing herself not very near death, adding, “I
am going into a long sleep ;’ and appeared to compose herself to rest.
While I stood and gazed upon her with mingled grief and surprise, she
sat motionless, with a sweet serenity on her countenance, breathing
shorter and shorter for ten or fifteen minutes: and then, without astruggle
or a groan, the mortal spirit left the cumbrous clay, in the prime of life,
July 21st, 1802. O ! what must the sensation of her soul be, to find
itself so suddenly ; so easily released, and in a moment set at full
liberty l’
Describe, who can, those worlds of light.
Those realms of endless day,
Where from the scencs of gloomy night
She wing'd her joyful way !
Describe, who can, the loss we feel;
The loss which Zion mourns;

But Christ alone our wound can heal,
By his benign returns !”
Miss Neale’s Diary is brought down no further than to the year 1798.
We subjoin a selection of detached extracts.
“1. When I look into myself, I can find nothing but sin and pollution.
But my Saviour has said, “Him that cometh unto me, I will in nowise
cast out.” Therefore, I presume to come unto thee, O Lord, to beg par-
don for my omissions, and for strength to do better. O my God, go
with me to thine house this day, and let not a worldly thought intrude ;
but let me think on thy love for lost man, t
Who sent thine own eternal Son
To die for sins which man had done.”
“2. O my God, help me to live a godly and righteous life, to keep
a constant guard over myself, that sin may not have dominion over me.
O Lord, I bewail my manifold sins and iniquities, for I have not spent
this week as I ought to have done: when I would do good, evil is pre-
sent with me. O grant that I may be more constant in prayer | What
could such a sinner as I do, if it were not for my blessed Redeemer,
who laid down his life for such as I am, and is now at the right hand
of God, pleading for me !”
$ook MEMOIRS OF
“3. I will praise the name of the Lord for all his mercies and good-
ness vouchsafed to me, who has heard and answered my prayers, and
given me sweet communion with him in his house this day. Oh Lord,
pardon my manifold sins at thy house, which I have committed this
day; for thou art a God full of compassion, long-suffering, and of great
goodness. Oh deal not with me after my sins, nor reward me accord-
ing to my iniquities Thou knowest whereof we are made, and remem-
berest that we are but dust. Look graciously therefore upon my weak-
ness; pity and pardon the interruptions and imperfections of my prayers;
and what I cannot do with a steady and composed zeal, accept the sin-
cerity of my heart.”
“4. Bless the Lord, oh my soul for all his goodness to us; particu-
larly in his Divine interposition in bringing us to Northampton : for if
we cannot see the hand of God in this, we never shall in any thing. I
have been some time under great dejection of mind. Oh Lord, draw
nigh unto thy poor servant; for without thee I can do nothing. Be
not thou far from me, oh Lord 1 for thou art my strength and my
Redeemer; in thee will I put my trust. I must confess with sorrow,
that my love is weak, and my piety imperfect; nor can they be cherish-
ed, unless thou dost fan thy holy fire, and feed it with thy heavenly
comforts. Oh visit me with thy salvation, and make me to improve
under the influence of thy Holy Spirit ! Deliver and purify my heart
from all corrupt affections and irregular passions; heal my spiritual
diseases, and take away that dross and filth, which obstruct my purer
delights of divine love, discompose my patience, and shake my inten-
tions of perseverance.”
“5. Remember the Sabbath-day. O Lord, go to thy house with me
this day, and be with me ; for I can do all things through Christ who
strengthens me. Oh that I may say to all unsuitable thoughts, as
Abraham did to his servants, ‘Abide ye here below, while I go and
worship the Lord yonder.” May this day be sweet unto me, and may
I find him whom my soul loveth and longeth after l’”
“6. I heard two good sermons this day. One from Prov. iii. 17.
“Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.”
Oh, what pleasure there is in religion l Nothing to compare with it !
God has promised to be our Father, Christ our Mediator, and the Holy
Spirit our Comforter; three persons, but one God. Oh, how pleasant
it has been to me! But now my soul is in distress, and has been so
for some time ; yet, I hope it is that the Sun of Righteousness may
shine with more glory in my heart. I wish I may be enabled to take
comfort from those words: (Prov. iii. 11, 12,) ‘Despise not the chas-
tening of the Lord, neither be weary of his correction,’ &c. Oh that I
may be watchful For my Lord and Saviour has said, ‘Watch and
pray, that ye enter not into temptation.” I am beset on every side with
temptation, but I am supported with an omnipotent arm ; and it is said,
1 Cor. x. 13, “ There hath no temptation taken you, but such as is com-
mon to man ; but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted
above that ye are able.” Therefore, in all my distresses, I will flee to
him, ‘who is able to save unto the uttermost.” O Lord, pour down
upon me the influence of thy Holy Spirit, to direct me in my prepara-
tions for the Lord's day !” ...}.
“7. My soul is in darkness, and I go mourning all the day; but I have
MISS HENRIETTA NEALE. 591
this one comfort, that I know Christ will never leave nor forsake me.
He will enable me to bear up under all troubles, and fortify me against
all temptations. I have found some comfort in 2 Cor. viii. 12. ‘If
there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man hath,
and not according to that he hath not.” Thou, Lord, knowest my will-
ingness. I count it the greatest happiness of my life to serve Thee. Oh,
that I could do it with a better heart 1 May I make the word of God
the rule of my life, and read it daily ; and may it be my meat and drink
to do the will of my Father who is in heaven ; that so I may grow in
grace, and in the knowledge of my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.”
“8. The Lord has been gracious to me ; for my prayers are answer-
ed, and I am brought out of the dry wilderness into green and pleasant
pastures. Now can my soul rejoice, and all that is within me bless his
holy name. Oh, may I be found faithful in the hour of darkness; and
let whatever affliction befall me, may I be patient, and wait God’s time
for its removal I do now desire to offer up myself entirely to thee; for
there is nothing in the world, I desire in comparison of thee, O my God
Give me Christ, and I have all things. Oh that I could but praise God
more, who has revealed his Son to such a miserable sinner, who deserv-
ed not the least of his favours, who has so often neglected to pray to
Him who made me ! Oh, that I could praise Him, from whom all
blessings flow ; who sent his own Son to die for my sins, whom I have
crucified afresh by my trangressions ; and yet He has had mercy on
me ! Oh, goodness inexpressible ! Love abounding ! O Lord, send
thy Holy Spirit të direct me, that I may walk worthily, so that no one
may be able to reproach me, but, by my life and conversation, all around
me may be constrained to confess, God is with her.”
“9. I abhor myself when I look into my heart, and behold my man-
ifold sins and iniquities. I am amazed at the goodness and mercy of
God in sparing me, when I have deserved nothing but eternal destruc-
tion. I may compare myself to Felix, who said to Paul, “Go thy way
for this time ; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.”
How many opportunities of prayer have I put off with this excuse, I
shall have as convenient a season by and by But, like Felix, that
season never came ; and I have found by fatal experience, what a sad
thing it is to neglect prayer. For I am now left in darkness, and can
find no comfort either in reading, praying, or hearing ; and when I am
at the house of the Lord, I cannot fix my thoughts upon any thing that
is good. But I will cast myself at the feet of Christ; for I know that
he is able and willing to save all that come unto him.”
“10. O Lord, ‘bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy
name.”—“I will wait upon the Lord, that hideth his face from the house
of Jacob, and I will look for him.”—“I am poor and needy; yet, the
Lord thinketh upon me.’ ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
“The young lions do lack, and suffer hunger; but they that seek the
Lord shall not want any good thing:’—‘Sin shall not have dominion
over you ; for ye are not under the law, but under grace.” O Lord, do
thou enable me to conquer that tyrant, sin, which is seeking to devour
me. Help me to put on the whole armour of God Clothe me with
the robe of thy righteousness! Oh that I may be hid with Christ in God 1
After I had written those words, “Oh that I may be hid with Christ in
God l’ I had joy unspeakable and full of glory. I had such a mani-
592. * MEMOIRS OF
festation of the love of Christ to me, and saw so clearly my interest in
him, that the tongue of men or of angels could not express what I felt I
I am filled with wonder, astonishment, and gratitude, that the Lord
should thus be mindful of a poor sinful worm 1 This night I avouch
the Lord to be my God, and give myself up entirely to him. O my
God, give me Christ, and I have all things ; for my soul loveth him;
and then shall I be rich indeed. I have had a little of the foretaste of
heaven. This frail nature could hardly support the joy I felt. Oh, that
I may never forget this night ! Oh, that I had been dissolved that I
might have been with Christ But whether living or dying, I will en-
deavour to be the Lord’s.”
“11. I now hear the sound of the bell, which is to summon another
body to its original dust. O my soul, may the funerals of others re-
mind thee of mortality | Thou mayest this night be called to appear
before thy God ' What art thou ! A sinner | As such, thou art con-
demned. But Justice—behold ! Look at the robe which I wear, and
let the sentence be reversed. It is the white robe of Christ’s righteous-
ness that I am clothed with ; in that there is no flaw; in him I am per-
fect ' Therefore, I need not fear thy sting, O death ! Where is thy
victory, O gravel Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through
our Lord Jesus Christ. I often grieve that I cannot sing the praises of
God. But when I come to glory, I shall sing as loud as any of the re-
deemed, as I have had so much forgiven ; for I should never have loved
Christ, had not He first loved me ! It is said in Jer. xxxi. 3, ‘Yea, I
have loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore with loving kind-
ness have I draywn thee.’”
“12. I cannot help mourning when I think on the state of our na-
tion. Our nobles are corrupted; the common people are filled with
pride and luxury ; and, yet this polluted nation is spared Oh, the
long-suffering goodness of our God! His thoughts are not as our
thoughts, neither are His ways as our ways. I wish to possess the
spirit of meekness, that when I hear of the wickedness of any person,
I may not be angry, so as to speak unadvisedly with my lips; but may
I be enabled to go to a throne of grace to beg mercy for them.”
“13. I carry about me a body of sin and death ! Oh, my base in-
gratitude I have distrusted God’s power; and, like a silly creature,
have heaped sorrow upon sorrow. This would not have been, if I had
put my confidence in God, and given this cause up to the Lord, and
prayed to him to manage it. Oh, that I may but pray in faith, believ-
ing I shall receive the things I ask in thy name ! And now, oh Lord l
teach me to put my trust in thee: for thou only canst help me in this
my distress;–casting my care upon thee, and waiting with patience till
thou seest fit to answer my prayers.” -
“14. I desire to praise the name of the Lord, for all his mercies
vouchsafed to us, and that we are so well settled in our house. Oh,
may it be devoted to thy service 1 May we have health, both of soul
and body, that we may be better able to serve thee The Lord enabled
me to overcome a temptation; for he has said, “With every temptation
I will make a way to escape.” Therefore, all God’s children ought to flee
to their heavenly Parent, whenever the roaring lion attacketh them, who
goeth about seeking whom he may devour. Even children may teach
us this ; for, if any danger be near, they will, without delay, flee to their
MISS HENRIETTA NEALE. 593
parents for help. Oh, may this teach me, under all my temptations or
distresses, to flee to Jesus, the great Captain of my salvation; under
whose banner I shall be safe, though a legion of devils encompass me:
I shall be more than a conqueror through Christ who strengthens me !”
“15. Jan. 1. O Lord, I desire to return thanks for the blessings of
last year; and beg the pardon of my sins of omission, and commission,
which are more in number than the hairs of my head. Send down thy
Holy Spirit to make me walk more worthy this year; for, unless thou
dost assist, I can do nothing. I intend every day to write down whether
it has been spent to God's glory, or not ; that I may thergby find out the
depravity of my own heart, which will teach me more and more to seek
after Christ.”
“16. Three months from home. Found benefit to my health, and
have learned one lesson ; that of all the things I have to be thankful
for, the best is, that the Lord has brought us where the Gospel is preach-
ed, and given us a heart to count the word of the Lord precious, and
that we are not running down with the torrent of wickedness which
besets this land. I hope our faces are set Zion-ward. Oh Lord, leave
not one of us; but let us all travel together to the heavenly Canaan I
I wish all my relations in nature to be such also in grace. Oh, that
I º have more wisdom, that I may never be ashamed of owning
God l’”
“ 17. Lord’s-day. I have been in a dark frame; but I went and
poured out my soul before God, and those words came with power: “Cast
thy burden on the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.’ I found sweet resig-
nation to the Lord’s will. Oh, how different are the sentiments of my
heart now, to what they were last week 1 I think I have been like Baal’s
prophets, who cut themselves because their god did not answer. Now
I have made myself ill with fretting, because God did not answer me
in my own way ; but the Lord hath taught me that my thoughts are
not as his thoughts, nor my ways as his ways. Mr. R.'s text this morn-
ing was very suitable, from Psalm cvi. 43–45. Many times the Lord
has delivered me ; yet many times have I provoked him with my coun-
sel. I was brought low for my iniquity: nevertheless, he regarded
my affliction, and heard my cry. He removed the burden from my
mind, though not its cause ; but I can say, the Lord doth all things
well.”
“18. My soul was filled with grief, to hear a minister, in a public
congregation, stand and declare, that it was enthusiasm to believe the
influence of the Holy Spirit. If that constitutes an enthusiast, I glory
in being one. I believe I never speak or pray acceptably to God, but
when I am assisted by his Holy Spirit. And in the church service, we
are directed to pray that the Lord would not take his Holy Spirit from
us. This the minister prayed for in the desk, and denied the influence
of it in the pulpit. From such blind guides, good Lord deliver me !”
“19. June 1. I was greatly shocked this morning at seeing some
morrice-dancers. “Oh that they were wise, and would consider their
latter end P Time is short 1 Eternity is long " I earnestly wished for
the conversion of these poor creatures. I was thinking how the wicked
rich and honourable of the earth must be mortified, when they enter into
the regions of everlasting misery, to find themselves the companions of
the rabble of the earth. There they will have no titles, nor robes to
t
75
594 MEMOIRS OF
distinguish them, but they must mix with the common herd. But the
children of God, who are now despised, will then reign gloriously with
Christ their head. It matters not whether they were rich or poor in
this world— they will all be rich in heaven. If a nobleman marry a
servant, he raises her to all his dignities and estate ; and she has the
same honours paid her, as if she had been born of noble blood: so it
is with the children of God. We shall never be ashamed of one another's
company, because we are raised from our low estate, and are united
unto the King's Son, the Lord of Hosts. We shall appear as kings’
daughters, all glorious. Oh, what a glorious day will the judgment-
day be Then will the mighty of the earth be brought low. What
horror, confusion, and envy, will seize their guilty souls, to see those
very persons whom they once persecuted, now at the right hand of God,
attended with angels and archangels, and all the heavenly host They
will also behold Jesus, whom they despised, ind will call in vain to
the rocks and mountains to fall on them, and hide them from the wrath
of the Lamb. If this be the end of the wicked, fear not their reproaches,
O my soul! neither be afraid of their reviling ! Let all who love the
Redeemer, go on in the strength of the Lord, be steadfast, unmoveable,
always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as they know
that their labour is not in vain in the Lord.”
“20. Sept. 29. I have been in the house of mourning. I have
seen a Christian parent, to all outward appearance, on the brink of
eternity; but the Lord can spare her. For that we would pray, if
consistent with his will, for the sake of her children. O Lord,
I would bless, adore, and praise thee for thy goodness, in comforting the
mind with thy promises She wants nothing, even on this bed of sick-
mess, in view of death, and in parting with her husband and children,
but the presence of the Lord, to make her happy. O Lord, give her
the desire of her heart; and grant her thy presence, whether living
or dying !”
“21. Dec. 8. Lord’s-day. Oh, the wonderful goodness of God, once
more to permit such an unworthy creature to approach his table, and
feed upon his love | I count it the greatest blessing on earth, to have a
name and a place in the church of God. O Lord, keep me by thy grace,
that I may never forfeit it : and may the falls of others make me take
heed to my ways, that I lean not to my own understanding ; but may
b. continually looking unto Jesus, and walking humbly with my
O !”
“22. Jan. 1. O Lord Jehovah, thou who dwellest in the heaven of
heavens, and yet condescendest to bow down thine ear to sinful crea-
tures, hear one of the most unworthy, and forgive all my sins ! How
negligent have I been this last year ! How little have I done for Him
who bled and died for me ! May not the Father of heaven and earth,
who has seen the barrenness of my heart, thus address his beloved Son 1
‘Have I not these many years come, seeking fruit on this fig-tree, (or
barren soul,) and found none Cut it down | Why cumbereth it the
ground P. But I see the Friend of sinners pleading for me; for ‘he
ever liveth to make intercession for us:’ ‘O my Father, let it alone
this year also, till I shall dig about it, and dung it; and if it bear fruit,
well ; and if not, then after that thou shaſt cut it down l’O Lord Jesus,
do thou take me under thy special care this year ! Dig about this barren
MISS HENRIETTA NEALE. 595
heart; and if the pruning-knife be necessary, spare it not. Let me
lose every other thing, so that thy presence go not from me. Oh, give
me heavenly wisdom, that, by my fruits, men may know to whom I
belong. I am confident that the reason I have not, is, because I ask
not; for they that seek shall find. Oh, that I may be enabled to seek,
and dig as in the mines for heavenly wisdom, which is more precious
than gold !—When I review the last year, with regard to our nation, I
may say it has been filled up with judgments and mercies. The Lord
in mercy, sent a plentiful harvest, that we are not this winter languish-
ing for want of bread : but his judgments are now abroad in the earth.
Oh that we may “ hear the rod, and know who hath appointed it.”—
O Lord, grant that war may cease, and that peace may be established
between us and the Americans; that brother may no longer fight
against brother Oh, may that accusation not be brought against
England, which was once brought against Israel : ‘Behold, because
the Lord God of your fathers was wroth with Judah, he hath delivered
them into your hand ; and ye have slain them in a rage that reacheth
up to heaven ſ”
“23. Feb. 10. This day is appointed by Government to be kept
as a day of fasting and prayer. I would humble myself before Almighty
God this day, for my own peculiar sins; for ‘there are with me sins
against the Lord my God.” And may all thy people unite, as with one
heart, to seek the Lord for this guilty land; for in the peace thereof
we shall have peace. May we follow the example of Abraham, and
entreat and wrestle with God, that, should there be but ten righteous
persons in this land, it may be spared for their sakes. Let not our
enemies triumph over us; but do thou, the Lord, reign over us. Let
us not boast in our armies, or our navy, but let our boast be in the Lord
of hosts ; and may our eyes be continually up unto God.”
“24. May 24. This morning I waked in a sweet frame of mind.—
The preaching was blessed to my soul. Some members who have
long been unworthy the name, have been separated from the church.
While we detest their crimes, let us pity their persons, and pray for their
repentance ; and may we cleave closer to the Lord, who is able to
keep us from falling.—Mr. R. jun. made a remark in his sermon, which
was very strengthening to me ; that ‘corruption could never discover
corruption.” At times, I have been like a wild bull in a net ; thinking
God would deal hardly, if he were to take away the delight of my eyes,
my dear relations, with whom I have taken sweet counsel. I think
Satan presents future prospects to my mind, and raises apprehensions to
distress me, and make me murmur and fret against God. Some seasons
of rebellion I have experienced; but, blessed be God, they did not last
long : they only drove me to a throne of grace ; there was my only
refuge against every fear. This has brought me to think closely of the
vanity of all things here below, the transitory nature of every enjoy-
ment, and that “in the midst of life we are in death.” I have this day
consecrated all I have to God without reserve. Lord, do with me and
mine what is most for thy glory. “Consult not my ease, but thy glory.”
O Lord Jesus, thou gavest all, even thine own life, for me ; and shall I
withhold any thing from thee ? Thou hast a prior right in them ; they
are thine by creation and redemption ; do with them what seemeth
good unto thee.—The Lord is my strength and my portion, of what
i
596 MEMOIRS OF
shall I be afraid? I will not fear evil tidings ; for thou art my hid-
ing-place. When every earthly friend is gone, Jesus will be ‘a friend
that sticketh closer than a brother. When father, mother, brother,
sisters forsake, (as by death they may,) the Lord has promised to take
me up and will more than compensate every loss. “In six troubles
he will be with us, and in seven he will not forsake us. The eternal
God is our refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. Happy
is he who has Christ for his portion : no temporal losses or crosses
can make him miserable, when Christ is present; even in the midst
of afflictions he can rejoice. O the happiness of a religious life, the
blessedness of a Saviour's love shed abroad in the heart 1 I would not
part with the comfort and satisfaction I now feel, for all the world. I
want to spring out of life, that I may praise God in exalted strains for
his unspeakable love in the gift of his Son Jesus Christ. I wish I
could always be in such a frame of mind as I now enjoy ; but ere long
I shall get among the thorns and briars again. Sin wounds ; but
Christ will heal. Shall I sin, that grace may abound ! God forbid 1
I do declare now, when no eye seeth me but Christ, in whose presence I
am, that I do love holiness; but yet, I know that I shall not be per-
fect in holiness till I get to glory. I am nothing without Christ ; but,
through Christ strengthening me, I can suffer and bear all things. ... O
Lord Jesus, I commit myself, and all that is mine, into thine hands;
knowing thou wilt either
“restore what I resign,
Or give me blessings more divine.”
“25. Dec. 9. Saturday. This is the day of the month, and the day of
the week, in which I first drew breath. A few years ago, I was an in-
fant, weak and helpless; but at that time the Lord saw me, and took
me under his protection, and has watched over my heedless steps ever
since. I bless God that ever I was born ; born to know Christ, and to
be redeemed by his blood This is a blessing which angels know not.
I can triumph when I view myself in Christ; but when I look inward,
and see with what deadness and coldness I worship God, I am astonish-
ed that ever Christ should love me !
“26. May 5. In a very few days, we shall be called to leave this
place, at least for six months. Providence has appeared for us, in our
letting our house for that time. Lord, do thou go with us; do thou be
our guide in all our removes. We know not what is before us; but we
will put our trust in thee. We were brought hither by a most remark-
able appearance of Providence. Our removal seems a frowning one ;
but the Lord can out of evil bring great good. Whatever difficulties we
may have to go through, Lord, keep our minds in perfect peace; let our
stay be on thee. Bless our dear friends that we have left behind, our pas-
tor, the church to which we belong: shower down abundant blessings on
them all ! Lord, appear for the poor; comfort their hearts, and raise them
up friends that shall have it more in their power to do them good, than we
have had. Lord, to thee I can appeal, that we have done according to
-our ability; yea, even beyond our ability: but now we are straitened
on every side, so that all things appear against us. But it is only in
appearance ; for they shall all work together for our good. None ever
trusted the Lord in vain. We have long given up every thing we had
MISS HENRIETTA NEALE 597
to him : he has a right to dispose of it just as he pleaseth. But no good
will he withhold from them that fear him. He may, for a time, try
and prove them ; but if they quietly submit to his Divine will, “He will
restore what they resign, or give them blessings more divine.” Lord,
keep us from fretfulness and murmuring, whatever befall us ; then all
will be well. But while we are under the cloud, unbelief blackens
every thing. Lord, let faith triumph, and see a smiling God under a
frowning providence.
“27. Feb.19. These last twenty-nine days have been filled up with
an uninterrupted series of mercies. Preserved in journeying from N–
to London; from thence to Chatham; had a pleasing interview with my
dear brother and friend; prospered in the business I went about. Looking
back, I am filled with wonder : in the common course of providence we
had no friend to rely on, no one we could depend on to transact our busi-
ness. Two years ago, all things appeared against us; but our trust was
in the Lord, and we have not been confounded: for he has made us to see
that he can make ‘all things work together for good.’ Instead of be-
ing decreased in our substance, we are increased ; and every thing we
set our hand unto prospers. O Lord, sanctify our mercies; for we have
such wicked hearts, that we are in continual danger of abusing them.
Bless my dear sister Eliza in the near approach of a change in her con-
dition. The prospect is pleasing and satisfactory to all parties, and we
doubt not but they are fellow-heirs of the same kingdom. Oh Lord,
unite their hearts together in thyself 1 May they promote each other’s
spiritual interest; and let them be examples to the flock of Christ, and
adorn the profession they have made 1 Bless them in the church, in
the family, in their basket and store, in their going out and coming in ;
and in all their ways may they acknowledge thee, and look upon them-
selves as stewards for God
“28. Nov. 28. On the 4th of this month, I was attacked with a
cold and cough, which brought on an inflammatory fever. I kept my
bed many days ; but the time was not tedious, because the Lord was
with me. I never before enjoyed such a calm frame of mind, and
sweet serenity. Fearing one morning that the levity of my wicked
heart would draw me aside again, and that I should forget God, as I
have done times without number, those words came sweetly to my re-
collection: ‘My grace is sufficient for thee.” When I began to sit up, I
took my Bible, and the promises appeared so glorious, that I was too
weak in body to bear them, and was obliged to leave off reading. At
another time, my heart was so drawn out in prayer, that it was too much
for me : I was obliged to leave off, and appeal to my beloved Lord, that
the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. Lord Jesus, grant that
this affliction may be truly a sanctified one ! Oh that I may live nearer
to thee than ever ! May I never forget the loving kindness of the Lord;
but may my heart be filled with praises and thanksgivings continually I
Oh thou who hast heard and answered all my petitions, strengthen
me to go forth to thy house on the approaching Sabbath ! Hear the
prayers which have been offered up on account of the dangerous visita-
tion of thy servant, Mr. : spare his valuable life for the sake of his
family and the Church. , Sanctify the afflictions which abound. Many
have been cut off by death ; some in the prime of life. May we indivi
dually, and as a church, have reason to say, ‘It is good for us that we
598 MEMOIRS OF
have been afflicted.” Even the Throne is not exempt from thine afflict-
ing hand. Lord, hear the prayers that are offered up for our sovereign;
rebuke his fever, and restore him to the right use of his reason. Oh,
that he might come out of this affliction, to praise the Lord! May it
be sanctified to the queen, and all the royal family
“29. Oct. 9. Just returned from the house of God, in which I have
pleasantly spent two hours. This was a time set apart for praise and
thanksgiving to our gracious God, who has so wonderfully appeared in
behalf of our nation. At a time when we were near giving up, as
lost, the prospect of a harvest, thou didst disperse the clouds rapidly,
ripen the corn, and send such weather for its ingathering, as scarcely
ever was known. The text which our minister preached from, was in
Psal. xxxi. 1. ‘Rejoice in the Lord, ye righteous; for praise is come-
ly for the upright.” We will, as exhorted by him, rejoice in the Lord ;
and let the high praises of our God dwell in our hearts. The world
is in commotion : Oh, that it would please the Lord to put a stop to
wars and rumours of wars 1 I am tired of reading the accounts of
garments rolled in blood Oh the thousands and tens of thousands
which the sword hath driven into an unknown world, within the last
few years l Blessed Jesus, let the banner of peace be displayed in all
countries. We know that thou canst make as great and as sudden an
alteratién in the political, as thou hast in the vegetable world. O Lord,
give us new cause to praise, for praise is delightful work . We would
praise thee for stirring up the hearts of thy people in exertions to send
missionaries to the heathen nations. Bless those that are now in the
Indies with abundant success; bless those who are now on the mighty
waters, going to the African shore. Oh that Ethiopaimay stretch out
her hands unto God | Bless the Sierra-Leone Company; may that
settlement promote the cause and interest of our dear Redeemer l—
Bless the churches that are already settled there ; may they, by their
wise and prudent conduct, win the natives to the religion of Jesus.
May another Society just now formed, with a view of sending Mission-
aries to publish the Gospel in the South Seas, be blessed of God; and
may all Christians unite in strengthening one another’s hands in the
work of the Lord: may many faithful labourers enter into the work,
and may Jehovah crown it with his blessing !
“30. Nov. 4. My spirits are very low, on account of my dear sister’s
health, which is in a very precarious state. Lord, spare her valuable
life, if it be thy blessed will : but in this, as well as in every other thing,
bow our wills to thine. Thou wilt do all things well.
“31. Feb. 11. Oh what agitations of mind have I experienced for
these last two months' my dear sister recovering and then relapsing.
There is now no hope of her life: Lord, support us all under the trying
stroke, and grant to the dear dying saint strong consolation in death.
May she have the triumphs of faith, and be enabled to commit her dear
children to a covenant-God |
“32. Feb. 18. Oh, what a Sabbath this has been to me ! what a
wandering heart | Will nothing make me cleave entirely to the Lord 7
O my God, sanctify present afflictions to me ! I do find myself more
resigned to parting with my beloved sister. Blessed Jesus, manifest
thyself to her We desire to praise thee for the passive resignation she
experiences; but her desire is to behold more of thy glory: then, she
MISS HENRIETTA NEALE. 599
says, her affliction would be nothing. Lord, make her triumph in
death ! Oh, may her own children, and those committed to her care,
receive her dying instructions ! . Thou hast supported her under the
greatest weakness, to speak for thee; and as her useful life seems near
its period, may her death be eminently useful to those under her care I
“33. Feb. 26. In conversing with my dear sister, I had sweet conso-
lation in finding the Lord had given her infinite delight in meditating
on the dying love of Christ. . Her weakness would not permit her to
say much, but that the Lord deals very tenderly with her; and she
could leave herself entirely in the Lord’s hands, for life or death.
“34. March 3. My dear sister very ill; she feels that she cannot
continue long ; desires we would pray for her, that the Lord would
give her comfortable views in death. At present, she does not feel as
she could wish; but added, “Why should I be reluctant to tread the
path my Saviour trod? She spoke with great composure to her dear
children; begging them to seek an interest in the love of Jesus, point-
ing him out to them as their Friend, when all others may fail.
“35. March 10. My dear sister apparently drawing near her depar-
ture, had all her pupils around her, exhorting them earnestly to seek
an interest in the love of Jesus. Lord, support us all under the trying
scene ! Oh, give her a triumphant entrance into glory !
“36. March 14. My dear sister entered into the joy of her Lord.
This house has been a Bethel; none other than the house of God, and
the gate of heaven Oh what a display of the Lord’s goodness . The
sting of death, and all its terrors, taken away ! How sweetly did the
dear saint smile in death ! With what holy confidence she committed
her dear orphans to the Lord
“37. April 1. For some time very low : I feel my loss daily. While
my dear sister was on the verge of eternity, the prospect of her felicity
carried me above my own natural feelings : but now I am ready to sink
under them.
“38. April 20. The Lord has graciously delivered me from the ex-
treme lowness which had seized me, so that I could not delight in any
thing, and my health seemed declining. In the course of the family
reading, these words were sweetly applied to my heart: “Fear not, for
I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God: I will strengthen
thee, I will uphold thee,’ &c. From that time I have found that the
Lord been my strength : I will trust in him.”
º close the selection, as the Diary after this period was not
regularly kept up, owing to multiplied engagements. What little shº
did write, breathed the same spirit of lively devotion and resignation to
the will of God. Such was her dependence upon her heavenly Father,
that she often observed, she had cast all her care and concern upon;
Him, being assured that all would be ordered for the best ; and there-
fore, she had only to know his will, and that would be hers. And so
it was to the end of her days.
M R. S. E LIZ A BE T H C H A S E.
THE following account of Mrs. Chase, is given by her sister, Miss
Neale, in a letter to a friend.
DEAR SIR,
As you have requested an account of the Lord’s dealings with my
dear departed sister, I sit down to the pleasing, but mournful recital.
Mrs. C. not only died the death, but lived the life of the righteous.
She was blessed with a happy disposition of mind, and penetrating
judgment, which being brought under the guidance of the Spirit of
God at an early period in life, produced those fruits which so conspicu-
ously shone forth in her. She was naturally of a reserved temper;
but when she spoke, it was always to the purpose. She was not only
beloved by her Christian friends, but universally esteemed by her ac-
quaintance.
Since her departure, we have found in her own hand-writing, some
excellent meditations and self-examinations, with a diary commencing
in the year 1776, and discontinued after the year 1790. A few ex-
tracts may not be unacceptable to you ; but prior to that is another pa-
per, in which she thus expresses herself: “Having had a pious educa-
tion, it taught me to reverence the Sabbath ; and though it could not
give me a love to the day, yet, it led me to read books that were suita-
ble to the day; which was one of the means the Lord made use of to
set me a thinking about the concerns of my immortal soul. I used to
inquire of myself, when it was that God would take an account of the
actions of a child, and hoped that I was not old enough. But still I
rather thought or feared I was. I read the Scriptures, not so much be-
cause I understood them, as because I thought there might come a time
when I should ; and then it would be of use to me to be acquainted
with them.”
When about seventeen years of age, my sister had an abiding sense
that all the world could give, was utterly insufficient to make º
Under this impression she thus writes: “Though I have at ºffi
no outward affliction, (and by a comfortable independence am placed
above the cares of the world,) yet I am constantly dissatisfied; my
mind wants to rest upon something, and I can find nothing to rest upon.
There seems to me to be a chief good, which my soul is reaching after,
but cannot find. I sometimes attempt to pray. When I do, I never
pray for temporal blessings, as I cannot, when in prayer, fix my thoughts
a minute upon them: they are but of little value, in respect of some-
thing else I want. I pray for the Spirit of God as well as I am able,
though I have very indistinct ideas of spiritual things.”
At another time she thus writes; “I have been brought to see that
the enjoyment of God was my chief happiness; and that there is such
a thing as union between God and the soul, compared in the Scriptures



MRS. CHASE. 601
to the marriage union. I thought all the troubles in the world would
be nothing if I had a God to go to. I felt great pleasure in reading from
the 13th to the 17th chapters of John, to see the love the Lord Jesus
bore to his people, though I did not know he bore the same to me. I
have often thought I did not see enough of the evil of sin ; but, at the
same time, I have desired that the Lord would give me such a sight of
sin as would make me detest it. One morning, I had such a view of
what the world would have been, if the Lord Jesus had not died, as
brought tears from my eyes; for I saw, that, to answer the great ends
of Providence, and for the sake of those for whom Christ died, the Lord
gives restraining grace to the most abandoned.”
In the year 1786, she was united to the late Mr. Samuel Chase, jun.
surgeon, of Luton, Bedfordshire, a man beloved and esteemed by all
who knew him.
It may not be improper here to disclose her most secret thoughts, a
short time before her marriage, as they stand recorded in her diary.
“Lord’s-day, April 17, 1785. But for a wicked wandering heart, I
should have had a very pleasant day: the word was precious and suit-
able. The hymn sung in the morning was applicable to present cir-
cumstances. O that I may at all times sing it from the heart | For,
however amiable creatures may be, and how much soever it may be our
duty to love them; yet, if we prefer them before Him, who only has a
right to be our best beloved, we may expect to find they will be made
sorrows to us. But I trust the Lord will keep me from all idolatrous
affection. It is his Providence that has evidently brought me into this
intended connexion, and I trust to his grace to bless me in it, and make
me a blessing to others.”
A few days after her marriage she thus writes:
“April 25. The Lord seems, by the dispensations of his providence,
to be saying to me, I will now try your disposition towards mê; by giv-
ing you every blessing this earth can afford; but at the same time, I
will withdraw the sensible influences of my Spirit, the heart-cheering
rays of my countenance, to see if you will rest satisfied with any thin
short of me. Is that, my dearest Lord, the kind intent of this hiding
of thy face Then permit me to declare, that though, with all the
gratitude I am capable of, I would receive every mercy at thy hand, yet,
I will not consent to be deprived of thy presence for ten thousand times
more than this world can afford. Return unto me, O my heavenly
Father For I can say with truth,
“Not life, with all its joys,
Can one bléss'd hour afford;
No, not one drop of real bliss,
Without thy presence, Lord.”
When near the birth of her first child, she writes as follows:
“January 29, 1786. Thus far the Lord hath brought me, blessed be
his name ! Myspirits are quite calm, free from any distressing fears: I
feel myself in the Lord’s hands. All that I want is, his presence ; if I
have that, his will be done in every other respect.”
When in prospect of the birth of her second child, again she writes:
“Lord’s-day, June 3, 1787. I have a low fever lurking about me,
and the Lord is pleased at the same time to hide from me the sensible
76
602 MEMOIRS OF
influence of his presence, so that I feel myself at times much cast down ;
and the chief reason is, that he that should comfort my soul, is absent
from me. I have lately thought more of dying than of living; but my
distress does not arise from the thoughts of leaving any thing in the
world, though perhaps no one has a better reason for desiring to live,
that they may see good days, than I have. One of the tenderest hus-
bands, a loving child, a pleasant habitation, comfortable circumstances,
affectionate friends; in short, every thing that can render life desirable,
as to the things of this world. But I know, if Christ and heaven are
mine, I may say with the apostle, ‘To depart and be with Christ is far
better.” As to those I should leave behind, the Lord has all creatures
at his command, and it would be easy for him to make up to them the
loss of such a poor worthless worm as I am. But unbelief is too apt to
prevail over my mind, so that I cannot ‘read my title clear to mansions
in the skies;’ and though the Lord does not permit any positively distress-
ing idea to seize my mind, as that I shall be lost, yet, the apprehension
of passing through the valley of the shadow of death, supposing it
should be only a shadow, is distressing. But I lay myself in the Lord’s
hands, for him to do with me as he pleaseth, for I know he cannot do
wrong.”
A short time before the birth of her third child, she thus writes:
“ May 1, I789. If the Lord should make that a means of removing
me, it would be to behold the King in his beauty; which thought was
pleasant to me in prayer this morning. I can see so little of the glory
of the Lord here, that I know, if I have his presence in the dark valley,
I shall be willing to depart and be with Christ. I shall feel for my dear
husband and children, but the Lord’s will be done.”
About five months after this, when in the height of worldly enjoy-
ments, having a family meeting, death entered the abode of peace and
happiness. What my dear sister’s feelings were on this occasion, you
shall have in her own words.
“Aug. 30. The Lord’s ways are a great deep; I know that in wis-
dom he hath afflicted me. Yesterday he was pleased to bring upon me
the greatest affliction I ever experienced, in taking to himself my dear
partner in life. But still there is mercy mixed with the bitterest cup.
He is gone to be for ever happy with the Lord, and it is but a little
while ere I shall follow. But I hope to be patient to the coming of the
Lord, and to say with Job, * All the days of my appointed time will I
wait, until my change come.” O may the Lord be pleased to bless
me with his presence He hath promised to be a father to the father-
less, and a husband to the widow.
“Sept. 6... O how kind the Lord is . He hath carried me through
the most trying scenes with a calmness surprising to those that saw me,
and to myself. What hath God wrought I Never did I experience so
much the truth of these words as now, “For these light afflictions,’ &c.
It is indeed only while we ‘look not at the things that are seen, but at
the things which are unseen,” that we can call such afflictions light.
Neyer did I see the realities of the invisible world so much as in the
trying moments I had lately experienced. I felt no tremor at deposit-
ing the dear remains of my dear departed husband, because I believed
that ‘ those who sleep in Jesus will God bring with him tº And in the
mean-time he is infinitely happier in the presence of the ever-adorable
MRS. CHASE. 603
&
Jesus than I, or all the World besides, could have made him. And it is
but a little while, and then I shall be where he is, and we shall join
in nobler worship than we ever have done here below. I know my own
loss, and deplore it; but his gain is so infinitely greater, that I could not
wish him back again to life. The Lord’s presence can make up to me
the loss of all earthly enjoyments; and it is but a little while that I
shall have to struggle with the things of time. I have been thinking
of the important charge the Lord hath committed to me in respect to
the children, and these words came to my mind: “Be faithful over a
few things, and I will make thee ruler over many things.” As if the
Lord had said, Be faithful over a few things, and it will not be long ere
I will say unto thee, ‘Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.’”
“Lord’s-day, Sept. 13. Yesterday and to-day, my spirits were very
low indeed ; this morning much worse than at the interment. The
Lord by this shows me, that it is but for him to withdraw his sensible
presence, and then I fall into all the weaknesses attendant on human
nature. This should raise my gratitude for past mercies, and excite my
soul to an humble dependence on his loving kindness; to wait on him
for future supplies of grace to support and strengthen me.”
After this, Mrs. Chase’s grand concern was, to train up her children
in the fear of God; and she devoted her time to their education. About
two years ago, she was requested by some of her friends to take a few
young ladies to educate with her daughters; and she paid unremitting
attention to them till within two months of her departure.
Her first seizure was on the 1st of May, 1797. It was sudden and
alarming, but she was quite composed; though, from the nature of the
disorder (the rupture of a blood-vessel on the lungs,) she was not able
to speak so as to be heard, as the least exertion might have been fatal.
But by a letter written soon after to a friend, we found she was favoured
with Divine support, and her confidence was firm in God, that he would
do all things well. Her desire was, to live for the sake of her dear father-
less children; and it pleased the Lord to spare her valuable life some
months longer; so that, during the summer, she was able to attend to her
children and pupils. Her friends saw her health declining, but she herself
thought she should recover. About Christmas, she had another slight
attack, from which time her strength visibly failed. On March 3d,
1798, she attempted to take a ride, and with difficulty was got into the
chaise; but was so bad that she was obliged to be taken out, and con-
tinued very ill all the day. She then said, “I find I am not likely to
get over it.” But her faith was unshaken. She viewed her approach-
ing dissolution with composure, begging that her mind might not be in-
terrupted by any worldly news with which she was not immediately
concerned, as she wished to have her thoughts wholly occupied with
heavenly things. She said, she never had loved the world much, but
now she loved it less: she was glad to find that her departure was
at hand, and often repeated, that she longed to be with Jesus, to behold
his glory. *
She had the most exalted ideas of Christ, and often spoke of the dignity
of his person, and of the fullness of the atonement made by his suffer-
ings and death. As she expressed high thoughts of Christ, so she en-
tertained low thoughts of herself. She lamented that she had done no
more for Christ, and had lived so many years to so little purpose. After
604 MEMOIRS OF
*her death, a paper was found written with her own hand, dated March
6th, 1798, and containing the following expression of her state of mind.
“The Lord seems gently to be leading me down to the river Jordan.
O may I see my great High Priest standing in the midst of the river
while I pass over . To consider death only as it respects myself, it is
desirable; for, while here, I can never love the Lord as I would, nor
serve him as I would; but, in heaven, I shall love without ceasing, and
serve without interruption. It has been my delight to search out the
glories of Immanuel here below ; but how faint the glimpses are
There I shall see him shine forth in all the glories of a God. There-
fore it is abundantly better, to depart and be with Jesus.”
Her son, being sent for from school, arrived on the seventh of March.
She received him with the same composure and cheerfulness as if in
perfect health. That day and the following two she was much better,
and took the opportunity to settle her worldly concerns, entered into
every circumstance respecting her funeral, and gave directions concern-
ing the children, begging us to pursue the same plan of education till
her daughters were grown up.
On the 10th inst. she was very weak, but her faith was strong. She
desired that her own children might be sent out, and that she might see
all her pupils together, to give them her last advice. When they were
come into her room, she addressed them in the most affectionate man-
ner, as follows:
“My dear children, I have sent for you to talk to you, as I have not
long to be with you. While I was able, it was my greatest delight to
instruct you, particularly in the things of God, as far as I was able; and
I have always loved you with the tenderness of a mother. Now I am
going to leave you, it has been my earnest wish to see you seeking an
interest in Jesus; for no one can enjoy true happiness without it. All
earthly comforts are but trifles. The world is very insmaring, but its
pleasures are not real. A comfortable situation on earth is desirable,
but is not to be put in comparison with the things of God. Human
learning is excellent and valuable, but the knowledge of Christ is far
superior. I earnestly entreat you, my dear children, to seek an interest
in Jesus. Search the Scriptures, for they testify of him. Do not be
satisfied with reading them in course, but study them for yourselves,
with prayer to God that you may understand them. We are all born
sinners, and as such, should have been lost for ever, but for the sufferings
and death of the Son of God. I shall meet you again at the great day.
I hope I shall meet you all at the right hand of Christ, and that you
will be of the happy number to whom he shall say, ‘Come, ye blessed
of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you.” O ! may none
of you hear the sad word, ‘Depart l” No one can describe the delights
of heaven, or the torments of hell. I have got but a very little time
to be with you.” On seeing them in tears, she said: “Do not grieve
that l am going to leave you. I shall go to Jesus, to be happy for ever;
much happier than I can be here. Do not grieve too much when I am -
gone ; but seek Jesus, and prepare to meet me in glory. It is by no
work of your own you can do it. Remember, these are my dying words,
you will never repent of seeking Jesus too early, and you may die soon :
for if a soul is lost, it is lost for ever; and if heaven is gained, it is
gained for ever. Do not tell my children that I say I shall not be long
MRS. CHASE. 605
here: only say that you have been with me, and I have been talking
to you. Come now, my dear children, and kiss me for the last time.
God bless you all, my dears; do not grieve.”—She then took each of
them affectionately by the hand, and kissed them. *
In the afternoon, a person called, who had lived servant with her,
whom she exhorted to flee to Christ as a guilty sinner; for that we
were all guilty before God, and if we did not take Christ for our whole
Saviour, he would be no Saviour; he did not come to do the work of
salvation by halves. She with great earnestness pressed it upon her to
trust in Christ alone, often repeating these words with energy : “Re-
member Christ is a whole Saviour, or no Saviour ; you must go to him
as the publican, and rely wholly on his atoning blood for salvation. But
(she added) do not mistake me. I do not mean to exclude the neces-
sity of good works: they are necessary as an evidence of our love to
Christ: what I mean is, that we must not trust in them for salvation.”
In the evening, she took an affectionate leave of her servants, beg-
ging them to consider the worth of their immortal souls, pointing out
Christ as the only Saviour, and expressing her earnest desire of meeting
them in glory.—To her own dear children, who were often with her,
she frequently addressed some weighty sentence, always putting on a
smile when they were present ; but did not take her leave of them that
day. To a friend who called to take a last farewell, she said, “I hope
you will soon meetmein glory; but it must be alone in the righteousness
of Christ.” The last few days, she spoke with difficulty, as her breath
got shorter ; but what she said, always discovered her confidence in
Christ and love to him. On these lines being repeated to her,
“How sweet to recline on the bosom Divine,
And taste all the pleasures peculiar to thine !”
she said, “I never had those rapturous joys that some have expressed ;
but I have been favoured with a confidence in the fulness there is in the
atonement of Christ. I can trust my soul to him, as a faithful God. I
know that I love him, and I know that none can, unless he first loves
them. I long to see more of his glory.”
On the Lord’s-day, being told that her daughter Eliza had repeated
those words, “It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good,” she
expressed great delight that the Lord had subdued her will to his will;
as the dear child had previously expressed herself almost in anger, that
the Lord would not hear her prayers, and restore her dear mamma.
On Monday, she took leave of her three children. She told them,
that no mother had more tenderly loved children than she had loved
them. She hoped to have lived to see them grow up in the fear of God;
but the Lord had chosen greater happiness for her. She earnestly en-
treated them to seek unto Jesus Christ for salvation ; for which purpose
she begged of them.to search the Scriptures, to delight much in reading
them, for they testified of Christ. She told them that, from a child, the
Scriptures had been her delight. She said, the salvation of their souls had
always laid near her heart. On seeing them weep, she begged them
not to grieve too much, for she should soon be in glory ; and if they loved
the Lord Jesus Christ, and trusted in him for salvation, they should all
meet again before his throne. . She requested them to look upon those
relations to whose affection and care she had intrusted them, not only as
606 MEMOIRS OF
they now stood related to them, but to consider them as parents, and to
obey them as such, to behave towards them as they had to her. Then
(turning to her son) she said, “Remember the advice of Solomon, “My
son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.’” Then looking upon her
daughters, she told them that she left them all in the hands of a good
God, and wished them to consider, that many things which appear as
great evils to us, the Lord overrules for good. #
On Tuesday evening, she gave them her last blessing, saying to each
one of them, in a most solemn and affectionate manner, “God the
Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, bless you.” After the
children were goné to bed, she begged my sister and me to give her up
to God in prayer. . Never did we three enjoy sweeter communion
together. It was a solemn season never to be forgotten, to resign one
so near, so beloved; but, through Christ strengthening us, we can do all
things. Surely we had an anticipation of the glories of the upper world:
it was as the gate of Heaven. We felt that the happy union which had
subsisted between us, would not be dissolved, because we were united in
our Head, Christ Jesus. She was only going home a little before us.
On Wednesday, the day on which she died, being asked if her consola-
tions continued, she answered, “Yes, just the same.” Mr. P. prayed
with her, a few hours before her departure. On his taking leave, she
desired her love to Mrs. P., wished them both as happy as she then
was ; for no greater happiness could she wish them here below. To
some friend who called shortly after, she said, “It is comfortable dying
with Christ.” She often repeated, “I long to be with him.” Her last
words were, “ I am going home.” Between nine and ten o’clock in
the evening, with a gentle sigh, without either groan or struggle, she
expired, entering into the joy of her Lord.
MR. S. PEAR CE,
WIDOW OF THE LATE REV. SAMUEL PEARCE, OF BIRMINGHAM.
Ar
MRs. PEARCE was the daughter of Mr. Joshua Hopkins of Alcester.
She was born in the beginning of the year 1771, and married to the
Rev. Mr. Pearce in February 1791. After the death of her admirable
husband, in the year 1799, she constantly assembled her little family,
morning and evening, to commit them to the care of Heaven, fervently
praying for their conversion, and that they might walk in the steps of
their honoured father.
As her last illness was of such a nature as to render her incapable of
conversation, no particular account can be given of the state of her mind
at the close of life. The reader will obtain an insight into her character
from a few extracts of letters furnished by the kindness of her corres-
pondents. We shall give them in the order of time in which they ap-
pear to have been written, which may serve in some measure to show the
progress of her exercises under the severest of temporal bereavements.
To JMrs. H. eleven weeks after JMr. P.’s death.
Dec. 25, 1799.
In vain, alas ! in vain I seek him whose presence gave a
zest to every enjoyment 1 I wander about the house as one bereft of
her better half. I go into the study—I say to myself, There is the
chair he occupied, there are the books he read; but where, oh where is
the owner 2 I come into the parlour—there my tenderest feelings are
awakened by four fatherless children. The loss of him with whom I
have been accustomed to go up to the house of God, diminishes, ah, I
may say too frequently deprives me of my enjoyment while there. Icha-
bod, Ichabod, seems written upon all my former pleasures | But let me
no longer sadden you by dwelling upon a subject too interesting to my
tenderest feelings ever to be forgotten by me. Nor would I arraign that
all-wise and benevolent Being, who has a right to do what he will. No,
my dear friend, I wish to love, adore, and praise, though I cannot discover
his designs, or suppress painful feelings at his dispensations towards me.
Oh that I may indeed “ know him” in all his ways, and feel my mind
more immediately devoted to him and resigned to his will ! I desire to
be thankful I have not been altogether without those consolations which
true religion affords.
To JMrs. F. on the Death of her youngest Child, Samuel.
July 11, 1800.
After an illness of a few days, it hath pleased the great
Arbiter of life and death to bereave me of my dear little boy, aged one
year and six months; and thus again to convince me of the uncer-
tainty of all earthly joys, and bring to remembrance my past sorrows
v.
608 MEMOIRS OF *
He was in my fond eyes one of the fairest flowers human nature ever
exhibited ; but ah, he is cropt at an early period 1 Yet, the hope of his
being transplanted into a more salutary clime, there to re-bloom in ever-
lasting vigour: and the reflection, that if he had lived, he had unavoid-
ably been exposed to innumerable temptations, from which, if my life were
spared, I should yet be unable to screen him, make me still. Though
I feel as a parent, and, I hope, as a Christian, yet I can resign him. Oh,
could I feel but half the resignation respecting the loss of my beloved
Pearce But I cannot. Still bleeds the deep, deep wound; and a return
to Birmingham is a return to the most poignant feelings. I wish,
however, to resign him to the hand that gave, and that had an unques-
tionable right to take away. Be still, then, every tumultuous passion,
and know, that he who hath inflicted these repeated strokes, is GoD ;
that God whom I desire to reverence under every painful dispensation,
being persuaded that what I know not now, I shall know hereafter.
To the Same.
Dec. 1800.
My dear children gone to bed, a clean hearth, a cheerful fire, but a
dejected mind—what will have a greater tendency to dissipate that de-
jection than to converse awhile with my dear friend, Mrs. F. 7 Yet, she
must prepare herself for Ezekiel’s roll. You will not wonder at this
when I tell you, that, within the last half hour, I have been comparing
my present evenings with those two years ago, when my beloved Pearce
and myself were accustomed to sit together, and talk over the events
of the past day, and look forward to the probable ones of the next;
and when he would give the gentle caution where necessary, and direct
me when in difficulty. But now, alas! a sad reverse succeeds ! A soli-
tary fire-place, a necessity of acting alone ; and whatever difficulties
arise, there is no one to direct me. But God is just ; and let me not
repine, though I must needs feel the change.
“Why sinks my weak desponding mind?
Why heaves my heart the anxious sigh?
Can sovereign goodness be unkind?
Am I not safe if God be nigh?”
Oh yes, if He be nigh, I want no more | This storm, though violent,
will be but short : a few more blasts, a few more sighs, and I trust to
arrive where sighing, sinning, and parting from those we love, shall
be done away. Oh glorious anticipation 1 'Tis this, ’tis this supports
thy friend while steering the tempestuous ocean of widowhood.
I was glad to hear your dear babe was nearly recovered. May you
long enjoy it, and may it be an increasing comfort to you ! But do not
do as I did, love it too well to part with it with cheerfulness when God
calls. Oh that dear loved Samuel—how many pangs has it since cost
me ! There is no Samuel Pearce now ! But why do I thus complain 4
Oh, my rebellious passions ! Often do I exclaim,
“Ye that love the Lord indeed,
Tell me, is it thus with you?”
Since I saw you, my heart has been rent with such passions as are
indescribable, and which I shudder to reflect upon. Butlet me speak
MRS. PEARCE. 609
it with unfeigned gratitude ; I have felt, for this last week, a degree of
resignation, to which, ever since I lost my beloved Pearce, I was before
a stranger. From comparing my own insignificance with the greatness
of the hand that has visited me, and who, though he smote me (as I
fear) in wrath, yet, hath remembered mercy, my spirit has bowed to
his sovereign will. I have also felt that it is of the Lord’s mercies I am
not consumed. I had said, by my thoughts and actions, “Let all go :
there is nothing worth keeping !” Why then was I not deprived of every
comfort, seeing I made so light of what was left 7 To what a state
should I have been reduced, had the Lord taken me at my word ' But
oh, cheering thought ! He is a God full of compassion, who does not
afflict willingly ; and I believe I shall see in the end, that all that hath
befallen me is for my profit. *
To JMrs. H.
March 17, 1801.
Oh, my friend! my wayward heart still cleaves to earth ; and though
so often disappointed in looking for comfort in the creature, when my
better reason tells me that it can only be found in the great Creator,
yet, still I must be trying again. In the midst of my most sorrowful
reflections, I am aware that my mercies preponderate, and claim not
only resignation, but gratitude. I cannot be enough thankful for the
goodness which mixes with judgment; and at times, the language of
my heart is, Bless the Lord, O my soul and forget not any of his
benefits Oh, could I leave my all with him, without an anxious care,
how much more happy should I bel
To JMrs. F. on the Illness of her Daughter Louisa.
* April 28, 1801.
My dear Louisa is so ill, that I have many fears on her account. O
my dear friend, a prospect the most distant of another bereavement, in-
volves my mind in gloom. Pray for me, that my heart may be fortified
for the worst. She has been to me an interesting child; and my fond
heart has been pleasing itself that in a few years I should in her find a
companion. Are you not astonished, that after so many disappoint-
ments, I should still be cleaving to the creature 4 Yet, so it is: no sooner
am I deprived of one comfort, than I grow insensibly to another,-till,
disappointed again of this, I am compelled to feel the vanity of all be-, .
low. I want to have my will entirely absorbed in the will of my hea-
venly Father ; and at times it is my most earnest prayer, that he would
not remove his chastising hand till the end is accomplished for which it
is laid upon me; only that he would give me strength to endure his will.
But surely I must be an untoward child, to need such repeated and se-
were discipline. Pray for me.
To JMrs. H.
* September 19, 1801.
It is an unspeakable mercy that I am in the hands of so kind
and good a God, who knoweth our frame, and remembereth that we
are but dust. As a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them
that fear him. How light and trifling do all our trials appear, when
77
610 MEMOKRS OF
compared with the important end they are designed to answer. What
are the sufferings of the present time, compared with the glory that is to
be revealed in us? May we be made willing to do and suffer the whole
of God’s will, in order to our meetness for the inheritance of the saints
in light ! Oh that my heart were more in heaven, where I trust my
treasure is At times I can say, Do with me, Lord, as seemeth thee
good; only sanctify thy dealings with me, and bring me forth as gold
refined from all remaining dross.
To JMrs. P.
Oct. 12, 1801.
No doubt you have joined the general joy occasioned by the
sound of peace. Never did I experience such sensation as on last Satur-
day, and Sabbath day. You may perhaps recollect that Saturday, Oct.
10, is an ever-memorable day to me ! I do not know that ever I spent a
day more devoted to sadness. My situation is retired—no friend came
near me—every painful feeling was again recalled—I indulged it; my
whole heart took its fill of grief 1 You may suppose I was ill prepared
for attending the service of the sanctuary next day ; and for a while, I
felt a desire of staying at home, but did not think it right to indulge it.
At length. I summoned resolution, and went. While on the road, peace,
peace, was sounded in my ears: every eye beamed gladness; but my
poor harp was hung upon the willows. Oh, how I wished to hide my-
self in a corner, where no eye could see me. I was, however, consider-
ably relieved in the morning, from a sermon by Mr. G., of 3 Oſlº
“Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, working for us a far
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” My burden was in some
measure removed.
To JMrs. H.
Oct. 18, 1801.
I have been endeavouring to-day to forget what period of
the year it is ; but, alas ! too faithful memory, ever ready to recall the
hour which put an end to my earthly happiness, pursues me ! When
shall I feel my will absorbed in the will of God, and have none but his 7
I want to live aboye this fading, dying world, and wonder I should be
so attached to it, when it has so frequently disappointed me. Oh, how
I envy those who have learnt that useful lesson, deadness to the crea-
ture, and life in God.
To JMrs. F. (without date.)
A firm persuasion that God directs all our concerns, ought
to silence every murmur, and check every degree of impatience in our
minds respecting them; and yet, how difficult it is to restrain our spirits,
and subdue them to the influence of religion I have indeed found it
so, and at times still feel it ; though I desire to be thankful, I have been
more tranquil the last six weeks, and enabled to yield myself more en-
tirely to the Divine disposal. A reflection on the large portion of hap-
piness I have enjoyed, and a review of the goodness of God to me under
my trials, have contributed to quiet my mind, and excited a degree of
gratitude and confidence in the hope of his continued aid. Though I
can never cease to regret the loss I have sustained, yet I wish not to
MRS, PEARCE. 611
indulge in these regrets. Time, and reverence for the Divine character,
who cannot err, does that for us which no human power can effect.
May we be enabled to sit at the feet of Jesus, and learn our duty and
privilege to trust in him at all times, and make him our only refuge.
Jłnother to the Same (without date.)
— I do sincerely rejoice with you, that the sun of prosperity,
in the best sense, so vividly gilds your path. It is this that gives a zest
to all our enjoyments, cheers the deepest gloom, and makes light the
heaviest burdens.—I know you will be happy to hear, that, for some
time past, my mind has been more uniformly composed. Not that I ex-
perience what I have so ardently thirsted after, cheerful resignation; but
I trust, I do feel more satisfied with the government of God, more con-
vinced that what he does is best ; that if I had the management of my
own concerns, they would not have been ordered half so well, and that
there was a “needs be” for every pain I have felt, and every deprivation
I have sustained. I feel in some degree with the pious Mrs. Rowe,
when she said, “If thou wouldest permit me to choose for myself, I
would resign the choice again to Thee. I dread nothing more than
the guidance of my own blind desires. I tremble at the thought of such
a fatal liberty. Avert, gracious God, that miserable freedom | Thou
foreseest all events, and at one single view dost look through eternal
consequences: therefore do thou determine my circumstances, not to
gratify my own blind desires, but to advance thy glory.”—Such, I
say, in some degree, are my desires. But oh, pray for me, that I may be
upheld of God,
“Else the next cloud that veils my skies,
Drives all these thoughts away.”
O my friend, how rich, how inestimable is the gift of Jesus Christ 1
All that eye hath seen, or the most lively imagination conceived of, is
nothing to the extent of the Divine goodness. Never shall we form any
adequate conception of it, till we know as we are known. To be near
and like God, must surely be the summit of expected felicity. Oh de-
lightful thought ! It will never decay. May a lively and increasing hope
in these exalted realities, enable us to bear every trial with patience and
fortitude. He who is a rock, and whose work is perfect, will accomplish
whatever concerns those who put their trust in him.—I could not with-
hold news which has caused such a gleam of joy as I have not expe-
rienced for a long time, from my dear friend, who has taken so large a
share of my gloom. Farewell !
To JMiss S. Written from JNottingham, whither she went on account of the
Illness of her eldest Son William.
Sept. 1803.
My dear boy has a fever, the symptoms of which are alarm-
ing. The physician assures me, his lungs are not at present affected; but
I much fear it will so terminate. Mr. and Mrs. N. are unbounded in
their tenderness and attention. I know not what is before me. Futurity
is wisely hidden from me. God is a sovereign, and has a right to do
with me and mine as seemeth good to him. I have long ago in words
612 MEMOIRS OF MRS. PEARCE.
acknowledged his right; nor will I now retract, should he remove the
delight of my eyes from me. No, though he slay me, yet will I trustin
him. I feel an unbounded confidence in him. He will, I am persuaded,
do all things well. He has been very gracious to me. My dear William
is a very desirable child. I feel all the mother yearning over him ; yet
I have not had the least disposition to think hard of God ; but have
viewed it as the rod in the hand of a father, who knows the end from
the beginning, and who doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children
of men. Pray for me, my dear friend, that it may be sanctified. My
love to our friends. I hope they will not forget us when they bow be-
fore the great Physician; for as our dear boy says, “It is of no use to
apply to earthly physicians, without the help of the Great One.”
Early in the month of May, 1804, Mrs. Pearce was considered by her
friends as unwell: for eight or nine days, however, no apprehensions of
danger seem to have been entertained either on their part or her own.
But, about the 20th, the fever increased to such a degree, as to bring
i. a delirium, which continued till the 25th, when she breathed her
ast. A
*
*
M. R. S. A R A B E L L A D A WIE S.
*
MRs. ARABELLA DAVIEs was the second daughter of Richard Jen-
kinson, Esq., of Hoxton, near London. She was born in the year 1753.
It appears from many letters, written by her between the years 1771
and 1776, that her concern about spiritual things began very early.
From many causes, it was subject to much fluctuation in her juvenile
years. As religion, however, more fully engaged her heart, her mind
seems to have been intensely employed on its most interesting topics.
Being naturally of an inquisitive and rather sceptical turn of mind,
her own reflections furnished her with the most popular objections on
many subjects of revealed religion. These were pretty largely discussed
in a series of letters to a friend, in which the doctrines commonly called
the Five Points were candidly examined. The consequence of this
correspondence was, that, on mature consideration, she adopted those
sentiments, in general, which are called Calvinistical.
The following letter is dated July, 1771, when she was in her nine-
teenth year.
“Believing you to be a pious and a devout person, and knowing you
think cheerfulness and Christianity are not incompatible with each
other, but are an advocate for the union, has encouraged me to impart
to you my present situation, which is rather particular. g
“A religious education from my earliest infancy, occasioned a serious
disposition when very young; till the folly and inexperience of center-
ing felicity in dress and general attention, weaned my mind from the
most peaceful serenity. This infatuation might still have possessed
me, had I immediately been separated from an observing and religious
parent; but her repeated instruction, and constantly attending the gospel,
alarmed me, and made me anxious to secure a more lasting pleasure. I
was unhappy, and thought to have atoned for my late behaviour by a
sincere repentance and reformation; but the not disclosing my real un-
easiness to any friend, nor asking the advice so much wished and re-
quired, and the wavering resolution of a girl of fifteen, occasioned my
deviating again: for I seemed to make a tacit agreement with the Al-
mighty, to repent hereafter. My mind thus enlightened, I frequently
heard this text, or those that are similar, “Light hath come into the
world; but ye have loved darkness rather than light, because your
deeds are evil.” This rendered me again uneasy, and great was the con-
flict between duty and inclination. The knowledge of acting wrong
was the source of frequent distress, till the world again offered its amuse-
ments, and the thoughts of passing so solitary a life as religion required,
urged me to part with the hope of glory, or rather to put off present
thoughts about it. Thus, my mind being rather more calm and easy, I
dwelt on future happy days and pleasure, to dissipate a still lingering
gloominess; but I found that nothing could entirely dispel it, when I
began to reflect, because I applied to “a faithful monitor within.' I then
flew to books, my still favourite amusement, as an immediate relief;
?
6. # MEMOIRS OF
i
-*
and by them I was in some measure reconciled to my unhappy situa-
tion. My pleasure for reading increasing, I became a professed admirer
of satires: these soon convinced me that sense and merit were superior
to any other attractions, and that happiness oftener dwelt with retire-
ment, than public life, and that pleasing reflection was absolutely ne-
gessary for the presence of felicity. I gradually felt a disgust to mixed
companies, and soon found that that peace was but imaginary which
did not result from a good conscience. These thoughts, and the hear-
ing of pathetic discourses, have often made me wish to be a Christian;
but the desire has as frequently been dissipated, when I reflected on
the sorrow and tears it would occasion, believing that heaven could
never be gained but through great anguish and distress. As I am na-
turally lively, I dreaded sorrow; so, resolved to defer religion till I was
more advanced in life. Thus fluctuating, and really never happy, have
I passed these four years, resisting the friendly admonitions of con-
science. The thoughts of eternity I could never indulge without dis-
agreeable ideas, and sometimes without the greatest inquietude ; there-
fore, I could never derive any real satisfaction from contemplation.
When I read the pleasing works of Hervey, Young, &c., how sorry I
have been that I felt not an equal adoration of my God . Now, as the
Scriptures inform me, that my tears and sighs will not secure me the
favour and forgiveness of my great Creator, but assure me that faith
in the Redeemer’s blood, with an observance of his commandments, are
alone sufficient ; yet, still I feel not entirely satisfied, as I am not sen-
sible of an anxious sorrow for the rebellious state in which I have so
long remained. The prayer I frequently offer to my offended God is
this : “That I may be more sensible of my late ingratitude, and that
my soul may melt when I reflect on his infinite goodness for still en-
treating me to accept of mercy, after repeated refusals; that my reason
may never be so enslaved as to form wrong conjectures of religion,
or to injure the cause by a settled gloom or unnecessary severities;
but that I may adore my God with zeal, pure and sincere; that the
insinuations of Satan may not again prevail, by representing my Maker’s
ways as thorny and disagreeable, or his favour difficult to be attained ;
and that the present resolution, like the flourishing plant, may gain
strength every day.” Though a person be a Christian, is he to deny
himself the pleasure which results from friendship or social virtues;
and to refuse conversing on agreeable subjects, because they are not
about religion ? You are too good to deceive me, therefore will imme-
diately impart to me your sentiments on my situation. Your directly
complying with this entreaty will most exceedingly oblige, and con-
vince me you are sincerely the friend of .”
. following prayer seems to have been composed at about the same
period:—
“Assist me, O blessed God, in my approaches unto thee, and let not
my thoughts wander 1
“O almighty and everlasting God, who art not ignorant of my
thoughts, and art acquainted with every action I shall commit, deign to
be my guide and my counsellor, in this important, this one thing need-
full Impress upon my mind immovable and saving notions of religion,
that the various opinions of others may not disturb my happiness. That
soul, O Lord, which thou hast created, and committed to my charge, I
MRS. ARABELLA DAVIES. 615
now sincerely wish to resign to thy tuition; renew and make it worthy
of thy acceptance. Never let me doubt thy all-sufficiency, nor leave
me one moment to my own inclinations; or I shall again sink, and my
great adversary will then complete the victory. He has once torn me
from my God by his vile suggestions. O be thou now my Redeemer
and Friend; and, whatever the conflict be, or whatever agony I suffer,
grant that I may gain the point, and triumph : O Jehovah, let not this
be a momentary desire It will, I feel it will, if I am not strengthened
by thy preserving grace.
Come Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,
With all thy quick’ning powers.'
“May I lament, and be daily more sensible of my various sins and
iniquities Make me plead with earnestness, that they may all be for-
given through Jesus’ blood. Let me not so endanger my salvation, as to
be fond of a name to live, and yet be dead. May I love thee with sin-
cerity and truth ! May my affliction for negligence and inattention to
thy ways, awaken gratitude rather than terror . Not my will, but thine,
be done. O guide me by thine unerring goodness; then will all doubts
and fears be sunk in the certainty of everlasting bliss. If thou refuse
to direct me, I shall come laden to thy throne with my own righteous-
ness, instead of the merits of Jesus, as the great atonement. O prevent
thy unworthy petitioner from inevitably falling by such proceedings,
through the influences of thy Holy Spirit; and regulate all my thoughts,
impress upon my soul the consciousness of my great offences, and
oblige me to hunger and thirst after righteousness. Convince me of the
necessity of a Redeemer, and make me walk in an acceptable manner.
May my desire for religion increase ! How soon would my own vain
thoughts and reasoning insensibly draw me away from the most impor-
tant things, if thou wert to forsake me! Rather than this, Lord, plunge
me in the most agonizing sorrow. How strangely have my thoughts
been dissipated . How vain and foolish are they ! O my Creator,
thou who hast blessed me with reason, may the same wonderful good-
ness now render it an undeceiving light ! May it be as an instrument
to convey the most needful truths l”
From these letters and the fragments of her Diary, it may be gather-
ed how her mind was exercised from the age of fourteen to eighteen.
After this period, she appears to have followed after holiness without
any visible intermission. Very few of her private remarks are left be-
hind, respecting the following seven years of her life. In the year 1774,
she entered into the marriage relation with the Rev. Mr. Davies, with
whom she lived in the greatest happiness for twelve years and a half.
Her prudent and engaging deportment, in domestic character, endeared
her to all who had the pleasure of being intimately acquainted with her.
One circumstance with respect to her children must not be omitted.
Mr. Davies had four children by a former marriage; but her happy dis-
position led her to treat these and her own children as one family, in
such a manner, that it would have been impossible for the keenest ob-
server, from any thing in her conduct towards them, to distinguish
which of them belonged to the first, and which to the last marriage.
She not only called them all her own, but realized them as such to
616 MEMOIRS OF
such a degree, that not one of them could feel the loss of its mother.
And she obtained such ascendency over their affections, that each was
emulous to love her most. In every character, she shone with a distin-
guished lustre, to the admiration of all that knew her. As a wife, her hus-
band experienced her to be his true companion “in well-mingled loves
and woes; her relatives always found her sincere and affectionate; and
the poor, condescending, sympathetic, and benevolent.
Her Diary extends from the year 1778, till within three days before
her departure. She died in 1786, aged thirty-four. To this brief ac-
count, we shall now subjoin some extracts from the private record above
referred to.
“Sept. 6, 1775. O my soul, how awfully polluted thou art how
astonishingly depraved ! The Lord gives thee blessings, and thou art
swallowed up and intoxicated in the enjoyment. One would imagine
they would have a power to nourish, and make the tree of gratitude
flourish more abundantly. O merciful God, for the sake of my Re-
deemer, vouchsafe, with thy gifts of providence, to give me a thankful
heart,that will praise thee continually,and,with spiritual mercies,an hum-
ble and devoted spirit. Undertake for me; I am weak. Deliver me, for I
am vile. Defend me, for Satan is against me ; and bless me with the
light of thy countenance. Prepare me for, and support me in, every
changing scene in thy providence, in joy and sorrow, in prosperity and
in adversity. . .
“Sunday morning.—Lord God Almighty, who art the God of all
grace, power, and wisdom; with humble boldness I would unbosom
my whole soul, graciously encouraged through the dear Redeemer, the
Friend of sinners. Sure it is not delusion, not the voice of flattery,
that sometimes whispers, “My Beloved is mine, and I am his.” O
heavenly Father, the worthless worm that now addresses thee, has no-
thing to offer for thy love and presence, nothing to boast of since pol-
luted, helpless, and undone; but yet, O my God, I may bring from thy
word to the throne, the blood of Jesus to pardon ; I may boast in his
righteousness to justify. Oh, may the eternal Spirit impress Divine
truths more powerfully on my soul, and impart abiding consolation
Thou hast indeed, O merciful Jesus ! delivered me from vast distress.
In spiritual midnight, the Sun of righteousness and peace arose on my
soul, with healing in his wings. But yet, Lord, I cry for succour; for
now thou art opening a new scene. Indeed, Lord, I shall leave thee,
if thou dost not sanctify the comfort thou sendest me. I feel a depar-
ture from thee, but I see my danger ; and I know thou canst keep a
sacred guard over my heart. O may the Spirit divinely influence my soul
keep me humble, watchful, and devoted 1 May I ever be acquainted
with my weakness; and then I shall implore the assistance of the bless-
ed and adorable Spirit in the opening scene before me. O let me be
led by thy wisdom in all things, that I may honour and glorify my
Jesus by a holy walk and conversation . To all new relatives, make
me a blessing and instrument for their spiritual good; and let me prove
the warmth of affection and my real tenderness, by being the faithful
monitor, and earnestly wrestling with thee, that thou wilt be their sun
and their shield:
“Gracious God, guard me, guide me, sanctify and comfort me and
mine; that we may be devoted to God, humble in ourselves, and give
MRS. ARABELLA. DAVIES. 617
evidence to all around that ‘the ways of religion are ways of pleasant
ness, and all her paths peace.” Thou hast given a free invitation to
sinners to receive a Saviour, thy only beloved Son, in whom thou art
well pleased. -
“O my Father and almighty Friend, the chief of sinners has ac-
cepted the offer; and may the bread broken this day, as a lively em-
blem of the Saviour’s body, be daily fed on ; and the wine poured forth,
as an emblem of his blood, give me daily peace | Through thy grace,
I am thine; through thy grace, I will be thine; and then, Grace, Grace,
will be my song in the world of everlasting joy.
“May 18, 1776. O thou Father of lights, and God of consolation,
to thee I look and sigh. May a daily view of my vileness, and a
greater display of thy holiness, deeply humble me ! May the Spirit’s
influence so make me loathe myself, that Christ may be altogether pre-
cious ! Lord, take my heart, mould it, form it, and do with it what
pleaseth thee; only bless me, and lift up the light of thy countenance.
Let not this world satisfy. Lord, thou searchest my heart; I am will-
ing to leave a world of sin for the abodes of holiness. O for a hope
that will carry me through the shades of death ! Lord, be with me,
for Satan will be there. May I have on the whole armour of God, and
fight valiantly. Save me from a fretful and impatient spirit, and let
not my thoughts be thus scattered, but fix them on thy blessed word:
make it a quickening word : make me more spiritual in my converse
make me to remember eternity. -
“July 30, 1778. O whither, whither should I flee in every day of
trial, but unto thee, O Lord'ſ Thou, Searcher of hearts, knowest the
depth and reason of my present misery. Did I never love thee, as my
reconciled God, through Jesus'ſ Did I never taste communion with
thee, through atoning blood 4 Else, why so many restless cries for thy
presence and thy blessing 4 And, when enjoyed, was it all delusion ?
O gracious God 1 I most solemnly and earnestly implore the Spirit's
searching. Here lies my burden, that my experience doth not tally
with numbers of thy dear people, who have drank deep of the bitter
cup of conviction ;-though I trust I can appeal to thy omniscient eye,
O holy God, that I have now, for years, avoided sin by thy power
strengthening me; and have been kept from loving, delighting in, or
pursuing it; and now feel it is my daily burden and grief. And yet I
mourn. Ah, Lord I thou viewest the sorrows that oppress my spirit,
lest I should be awfully deceived. But my temptations, which are so
singular respecting sin, sit with weight upon my spirit, even when I
seem to view that blessed sacrifice, and with delight plead the Saviour's
righteousness and love. If the evil of sin is not discovered by the
Spirit of God, all my joy will but end in sorrow, and then I shall II10UIII]
again. I am oppressed, O Lord! undertake for me. It is an awful
truth, or Satan's temptation, that I am blinded, and have never felt nor
seen sin as thy people see it; but that the joy and exultation I experi-
ence at times, are but to hold me in the awful delusion the stronger ?
How are my thoughts disturbed, and my soul cast down This, thou
knowest, O Lord, has been my fear, at times, for years. But one, em-
inently pious, whom thou hast led into awful convictions of sin, in con-
versation lately, seemed to bid me be cautious that I was not deceived.
O God, I look to thee, I flee to thee; for where can I go! I am ex-
78
618 MEMOIRS OF
ceedingly distressed, lest I am deceived. O search me and try me,
examine and prove me: only support me by thy Almighty arm; and
whatever weight of sin is necessary to be felt, I earnestly implore for
it, in the name and for the sake of Jesus.-I plead his merits and love.
“Aug. 6, Wednesday. Heard a most excellent sermon upon the offer-
ing of Cain and Abel : it was searching and edifying. Among many
other observations were the following: That it was not the action we
did so much as the spirit we did it from : it must be of faith. That it was
more difficult to live a martyr than to die one ; that is, really to die unto
sin, and live unto righteousness. That God would never give a spark of
grace that should exalt self, instead of Christ. Will the Lord impart
grace, to militate against the blood of Christ! The way by faith is really
a sanctifying way. My heart was drawn out, that I might always live
this life of faith. My body very much indisposéd the whole time of hear-
ing; and so bad, that I was compelled early to withdraw in the evening.
Gracious God 1 when death appears, may I welcome its approach ; and,
instead of the perplexing engagement of trying my state, may I know
in whom I have believed
“Sunday, Sept. 6. Endeavoured to appear cheerful, that religion
might not be dishonoured ; but my grief and sorrow were as much as
my weak and disordered body could support. Death appeared very
near. It is true, in many things I seemed indeed a new creature, and
could testify that my greatest delight was in communion with the Lord,
but, alas! I thought, if, after all, there has been only a mere profession 1
I would note in what particulars my conscience charges me with defects,
that, should it please the Lord in tender pity to restore me, I may,
though his grace, avoid these occasions of sorrow :
“1st. That I have sought the Lord, and delighted in his ordinances,
I am fearful, rather to gratify the innate enjoyment I felt in approaching
unto God, than to honour the Lord.
“2d. That though I have, when most affected with the blessed
views of the Gospel, most sincerely breathed after holiness and confor-
mity to his will; yet, after duty, I have not so carefully watched unto
prayer, and waited for this renewal of heart, that my conversation
might be thus heavenly. I tremble, lest I have only loved the Lord for
self and present enjoyment.
“3d. That I have thought much more of the necessities of the
poor and distressed, in temporals than in spirituals; of their bodies, more
than of their souls. •-
“4th. An inattention to the souls of my servants lies very heavy :
I can pray earnestly for them, when I cannot speak to them. It is so
hard to be faithful to others; there is such a backwardness in them to
hear, and in me to speak, that the reflection pains me greatly.
“5th : That though I trust I can say, I do not habitually live in known
sin, yet, a besetting corruption too often appearing in my life, or rather
noticed by my eye, sometimes confuses and greatly distresses me, lest
it really is not subdued. Lord, undertake for me; and if my life is
spared, may grace ever prevail against this sin!
“6th. Before I was afflicted, I went astray; and since I have been
chastened, my thoughts, my words, and my actions, have, I trust, been
more correspondent to a Christian profession: yet, as I have been kept
in the furnace ever since my return, I fearlest afflictions, and not supreme
MRS. ARABELLA DAVIES. 619
love to God, keep me in thy way. And yet, I hope I can appeal unto
thee, thou Searcher of hearts, that I had rather bear a cross than
thy absence. -º-
“ 7th. That I have not really and clearly been convinced of sin.
“These seven several thoughts now perplex, distress, and overcome
my spirits. I am sometimes so hurried, that despair and eternal woe
appear as if they would shortly enter this wicked barren heart. Then
I flee to Jesus, as the Friend of sinners, the Saviour, the Advocate of
guilty men : and plead his declaration, “that whatsoever ye ask the Fa-
ther in my name, it shall be granted to you.” This and similar promises
encourage me; but, as death seems daily approaching, I still fear, that,
if I believe in Christ for pardon, I cannot have good evidence that there
is a real change ; because life expires before the fruit appears.
“Jan. 1, 1780. There appears at times but little probability that Ishall
see another year. And yet, the Lord can raise up, as well as bring low ;
for, this day twelvemonth I was extremely ill, and my disorder increasing,
and yet, life hath been spared. I would now commit myself to thee, O
Lord, and leave every event to thy disposal. Sanctify every affliction,
and suffer it not to produce stupor or peevishness. How does unbelie.
rouse sin into action l or, as Dr. Young says,
“Guilt chills our zeal, as age benumbs our powers.”
“Jan 20. I dare not ask for either blessings or crosses; I can bear
neither without supporting grace. The awful apprehensions that I have
never seen sin in its sinfulness and desert, greatly hinders my walk and
comfort; so that between terrors prevailing, a despairing stupidity, and
a fear of a deceitful hope, my days and nights, at seasons, are wearisome
and distressing. A nervous complaint greatly assists my fears, and, I
believe, encourages the enemy; so that, were it not for some hope that
the Lord has appeared, and will appear, I should be completely wretch-
ed, and sink into desperation. Thou knowest, O Lord, my present
burdens; and my soul requests that reposing faith which will cast them
all on thee.
“February 11. I ever wish to remember this remark of Mr. Shep-
herd: ‘It is a presumptuous peace that is not interrupted or broken by
evil works.’ He adds, “that the Holy Spirit will sigh, not sing, in that
bosom whence corrupt dispositions and passions break out; and though
men in such frames may seem to maintain the consolation of the Spirit,
and not suspect this hypocrisy, under pretence of trusting the Lord's
mercy, yet, they cannot avoid condemnation with the world.” And Dr.
Ames speaks of it as a thing by which the peace of a wicked man may
be distinguished from the peace of a godly man, that the peace of a
wicked man continues, whether he performs the duties of piety and
righteousness or not ; provided those crimes are avoided, that appear
horrid to nature itself.
“May 4. I would learn to bring my cares and burdens, and cast them.
on the Lord. How sweet and encouraging is that passage of holy writ,
“Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt
glorify me!’ O may a deep sense of past mercies and deliverances, and
a present experience of God’s love and care, teach me ever to trust him
in a dark and stormy day ! Keep me in joyful communion with
thyself, O God! though it be by the way of the cross. I must still
620 MEMOIRS OF
;
lean on that Almighty arm which has brought me through the fire and
Water.
“Jan. 30. 1781. Still contending with a sinful heart, that does
not love the Lord as it ought, or would. I would still bring my empty
pitcher to the ever-flowing fountain of grace and mercy: send me not
empty away ! It is spiritual mercies I am most solicitous for; and while
others are crying for an increase in wine and oil, Lord, lift thou up up-
on me the light of thy countenance 1 Our temporal favours are indeed
so great, that our faith is not so much exercised in this respect, as a
grateful heart is demanded. O fit us for changing scenes; and as our
day is, so may our strength be
“Sept. 3, 1783. Heard an excellent discourse from Heb. iv. 1.
wherein several very practical remarks were insisted on, well worthy
my noting down.
“‘A Christian who knows little of prayer may talk about the com-
forts of religion, but cannot experience them ; for those who receive
much from God, must be much with God. The spiritual rest spoken of
in the text, is entirely inconsistent with the rest in the flesh. When
speaking on labouring to obtain this rest, he remarked, “What is wrest-
ling, when compared to the enjoyment of communion with God! What
is conflicting, when compared to the fellowship of the Spirit, peace of
conscience, and the hope of immortal life " What are the pains to the
blessing 'P There were two ideas he wished us ever to remember in the
life of religion : 1st, That as we go forward little by little, our know-
ledge increases, our love ripens, our graces flourish, and our conflicts and
;
trials are sanctified. The Christian goes from faith to faith, from obe-
dience to obedience, from grace to grace. 2dly, That there will be an
earnest desire for this rest. “I cannot (said the preacher) deem that per-
son a real Christian, who knows nothing of labouring after this rest. The
desire of grace is said to be grace; but the desire of grace, if genuine,
will end in earnest endeavours.”
“May 23, 1786. Lord! grant that I may profit more by the chequered
scene I am called to pass through ! The sun emerges from the cloud,
and then a wintry sky succeeds. Well, it is the way Infinite Wisdom
appoints; and I would acknowledge, I have to sing of mercy, as well as
judgment ; and though the flesh pleads for ease and tranquillity, yet,
a Father's love knows that faith, love, and patience must be tried, and
that the retired path of affliction, where the slow-paced traveller drops
many a tear or sigh, is most profitable. It is through much ‘tribulation
we shall enter the kingdom.” Though my daily lot is affliction, yet,
let me not repine, but say, ‘The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant
places.” But I must say with the Psalmist, “I should often have faint-
ed, unless I had believed thy word.” Those words I have found sweet
lately : ‘He doth not willingly afflict nor grieve the children of men.”
How sweet and kind the assurance from our heavenly Father, that it
is the chastening of love and wisdom | Therefore, my soul, kiss the
rod, and bow at his footstool.
“June 5. “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.” O how difficult
the lesson, or at least so I find it, to submit with that becoming patience
which so divine a hope ought to inspire My judgment often acqui-
esces in the mercy and justice of the Divine appointment, when the
flesh shrinks, and too often mourns, and almost faints, while walking
)
MRS. ARABELLA DAVIES. 621
jº
through the briers and the thorns. I am often humbled and laid in
the dust, and, I trust, made truly thankful, when I reflect that I might
have danced on, and sported with laughter, ease, health, prosperity,
and sought the downward road. But, ah ſhow much happier to be
corrected for sin, than to be lost for ever ! to be brought to Christ,
though it be by suffering, than to have been passed by in judgmentſ
O the mercy l—And how are the trials of my body graciously miti-
gated by the tenderness of dear friends ! . May I not say, in Scripture
language, ‘Your heavenly Father knoweth ye need them.’”
*
M. R. S. M A R Y G E N OT IN.
MRs. MARY GENOTIN was born at Walsal, in Staffordshire, in the
year 1758. She was the fourth daughter of Mr. Jonathan and Mrs.
Elizabeth Short. Her mother was a woman of singular piety and de-
votedness to God, and her excellent example and instructions were ren-
dered eminently useful to her children; particularly to Mary, who,
being the youngest, and a most amiable and affectionate child, was al-
most constantly with her mother. When only seven years of age, she
discovered an attachment to Divine things, and a peculiar love to the
Bible; for, before she was able to write, she would print different pas-
sages of Scripture on the garden wall, or wherever she had liberty, in
order that these texts of Scripture might make a deeper impression on
her mind. It may indeed be said of her, that from a child she knew
the Holy Scriptures, which were able to make her wise unto salvation.
She discovered a great aversion to sin, particularly the sin of lying.
She adhered to truth at all times, whatever might prove the conse-
quence; and would seldom attempt even to conceal her faults, but would
confess them with penitential sorrow. When very young, she was de-
sirous of knowing how to pray, and earnestly inquired how she might
learn. Her mother, perceiving the serious bias of her mind, was anx-
ious to cultivate it; and to promote it, she permitted her dear child to
be with her in her secret retirements. The impressions produced on
her mind during these solemn occasions, were never erased. In the
subsequent period of her life, she often mentioned with gratitude the
peculiar advantages she derived from this privilege. º
The death of her valuable mother was a very severe trial to her, and
occasioned her to leave the country, to reside with her friends in Lon-
don. Her mind still retained serious impressions; and as her desires
after knowledge and holiness continued to increase, the great truths of
the Gospel were gradually unfolded to her mind. Her natural disposi-
tion was remarkably amiable, and her conduct truly exemplary. At
the early age of sixteen, she was admitted to a participation of the holy
Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. §
In the year 1786, she was married to Mr. Daniel Genotin, with whom
she lived in happy union till death dissolved the tie. Having been
taught to consider this event as one of the most important in a per-
son’s life, she was led earnestly to pray for direction, while this impor-
tant affair was in agitation; committing the whole to God, and acknow-
ledging him in all her ways, who, according to his gracious promise,
directed her steps. Her conduct in this relation was eminently exem-
plary, and a pattern to all Christian wives. “Her children arise and
call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.” She had
ten children, six of whom died in their infancy. Those who were
spared to her she frequently and most solemnly dedicated to God. Like
MRS. MARY GENOTIN. 623
- **
pious Hannah, she took them in her arms to a throne of gracc; and
having received them from God, she yielded them up to him, acknow-
ledging his prior right to them and to all she possessed, and surrender-
ing all to him. Her solicitude for their eternal welfare was singularly
exemplified. It was her usual custom, for several years, every Sabbath
evening, to catechise and call each of her children to account for the
sermons they had heard during the day, and to examine if they had
made any improvement in Divine knowledge and Christian experience.
These Sabbath evening exercises proved of great utility to all her chil-
dren ; and her constant endeavour to train them up in the nurture
and admonition of the Lord, was attended with singular tokens of the
Divine approbation. Her affectionate disposition, sweetness of temper,
and freedom of carriage towards them, very much endeared her to
their hearts. Her pious example gave weight to her precepts, and did
not a little tend to make the ways of religion appear amiable and at-
tractive. She often, and with great fervency of spirit, engaged in
family prayer. She uniformly conducted family worship on Sabbath
evenings, and frequently on other days. In this respect, as well as in
every other, she was truly a spiritual help-meet to her husband, and a
blessing to her family. On no account would she suffer the occurrence
of any circumstance to prevent the performance of family devotion, either
morning or evening. She was particularly anxious that herself and
her domestics should lay aside all worldly concerns as early as possible
on Saturday evening, and prepare for Sabbath duties. She has been
known to say, that she generally knew what kind of Sabbath she was
likely to have, from the frame of her mind on Saturday evening. She
was indeed one who gave herself unto prayer, reading, and meditation.
But prayer was the exercise in which she most delighted. She was
very particular as to the season of retirement, and studiously avoided
every circumstance that would interrupt ***
& 6 these consecrated hours
In audience with the Deity.”
A strict attention to this practice she much endeavoured to impress
upon the minds of her children, and made a point of frequently inquir-
ing whether they had, or had not, retired into their chambers to pray;
reminding them of our Lord’s word, “And thou, when thou prayest,
enter into thy closet, and shut thy door, and pray unto thy Father, who
seeth in secret.” If a pious friend came to her, she was never satisfied
to part without prayer; and in visiting the sick, which was her practice
for many years, she seldom, if ever, left the sick or dying person without
reading the Scriptures and engaging in prayer. To visit the sick and
relieve the distressed, were works in which she much delighted ; and
she would frequently say, “It is more blessed to give, than to receive.”
God graciously condescended to honour her in the work, by rendering
her peculiarly useful. Souls were given her for her hire; some were
her joy here; others she knew not on earth, will be her crown of re-
joicing above. She found in her own happy experience, the truth of
that Divine promise, “Them that honour me, I will honour.” It was
her happiness to see her children walking in the truth; which she con-
sidered as an answer to her many prayers, and those of her dear hus-
624 MEMOIRS OF
band, who had so often pleaded with God in their behalf. Their being
inclined to engage in Sunday schools, and other societies for the promo-
tion of religion or relief of the poor, afforded her more pleasure than she
was able to express. She used to say, she would rather be able to assert
upon her dying bed, “I leave a seed to serve the Lord,” than to exult
in the possession of thousands.
She was very conversant in the Holy Scriptures ; almost every part
was familiar to her. If she heard but a phrase of scripture, she could
generally tell the place where it was to be found ; for, in the former
part of her life, she had committed large portions to memory, from
which she afterwards derived the most substantial advantage, and she
earnestly recommended to all young persons a similar practice.
She set a high value on her time, and generally rose very early in
the morning. The hours thus redeemed were devoted to devotional ex-
ercises. She held sweet communion with God before the bustle of the
family commenced, and would not have relinquished her morning hours
with God for ten thousand worlds. Like Moses, her face shone when she
came down from the mount, and showed that she had been holding
sweet converse with her God; for the effects were visible in her whole
conduct and disposition. She seemed to possess an almost constant com-
posure and tranquillity of mind, being seldom disturbed by any occur-
rence. She was not afraid of evil tidings, her heart being fixed, trusting
in the Lord. Her humility was pre-eminent, and added lustre to her
other graces. She possessed great command of temper on all occasions.
God frequently called into exercise her patience, her meekness, her sub-
mission and resignation, and these graces shone conspicuously in her
to the glory of her God; showing that the intimate communion she en-
joyed with Him, had ameliorated her temper, and elevated her soul
above trifling cares and vexations ; while the acquaintance with her
own heart, which she assiduously cultivated, taught her to prefer others
to herself, to be severe against her own failings, but to be mild, chari-
table, and forbearing towards those of others. Her mind was much
impressed with the recollection that God was always present with her;
and she was enabled to act and to endure as seeing him who is invisible.
She was remarkably cheerful, but always endeavoured to check in her-
self or her children, a disposition to levity and undue mirth.
Her mind appeared wholly divested of unnecessary anxiety about
future events. She would say, in reference to futurity, “ This, or the
other affair, is far better ordered than we could order it: let us learn to
leave all with God. He cannot err in his decision.” She was an atten-
tive observer of the hand of Providence, even in the most minute con-
cern, anxious to follow whithersoever it should direct. In a word, she
adorned religion in every state and in every circumstance of her life.
Having thus traced her steps through the wilderness, let us now attend
her to the closing scene, and mark her happy end. Her path was the
path of the just, shining more and more unto the perfect day.
During her last affliction she was favoured with a tranquil and some-
times joyful frame of soul. When the first alarming symptoms appear-
ed, she expressed her wish that her family and friends would not detain
her by their prayers, but give her up entirely to God; adding, “I have
no wish of my own, either to live or to die; but if I might choose, I
would rather be absent from the body, and present with the Lord.”
MRS. MARY GENOTIN. - 625
“‘Where Jesus dwells, my soul would be:
It faints my much-loved Lord to see.
Earth, twine no more about my heart,
For 'tis far better to depart.”
She frequently expressed her sense of the value of the Saviour, and
of his atoning blood and righteousness, as the only foundation of her
hope before God; but acknowledged that Christ never appeared so pre-
cious to her as upon her dying bed. “Oh ſ” said she, “now he is infi-
nitely precious, the altogether lovely to my soul! I would not part
with my interest in him for all the world ! I cannot tell you how pre-
cious Christ is to me now.” , - .
In the former part of her illness, the great adversary of souls was
permitted to assault her ; but, by faith, she was enabled to vanquish
him, and in general she was highly favoured in this respect. The God
of peace bruised Satan under her feet. To those who afforded her the
assistance her situation required, she was very grateful. Her language
was, “Thank you, thank you; a full reward be given you by the Lord
God of Israel.” She frequently exhorted her daughters to follow the
Lord fully; to live in love and peace; to labour to be useful in the world;
to be particularly active in the Sunday school, and to be much in secret
prayer. “O !” said she, “could these walls speak, they would testify
the pleasure I have enjoyed in communion with God, particularly in
morning exercises. I have found God’s ‘morning smiles bless all the
day.” If you wish your souls to prosper, begin the exercises of devotion
as early as possible, even before you engage in domestic concerns: it
will fit your mind for unexpected circumstances of trial and difficulty,
and will enable you to possess your soul in patience.” In her last in-
terview with her pastor, she expressed herself very happy, and with
much earnestness repeated that passage: “Father, I will that they whom
thou hast given me be with me where I am, that they may behold
my glory:” adding, “If he is willing that I should be with him, why
should I not, since to die will be gain 4 To depart, and to be with
Christ, is far better than to be here : -
“‘For 'tis a heaven worth dying for,
To see and know a smiling God.’”
She selected a portion of Scripture,(1 Cor. xiii. 11,) containing four
sentences, one of which she gave to each daughter, which she desired
they would treasure up in their memoirs, and consider as given to them
by their dying mother. To one, “Be perfect.” To another, “Be of good
comfort.” To another, “Be of one mind.” To another, “Live in
peace.” And she summed up all with, “And the God of love and
peace shall be with you.”
On the day previous to her dissolution, she appeared extremely weak;
for death had laid his cold hand upon her. One of her daughters per-
ceiving the symptom, said, “I hope, my dear mother, these are not death-
sweats. She replied, “I do not know ; perhaps they are: if so, it shall
be well.
º:
“Clasp'd in my heavenly Father's arms,
I would forget my breath,
And lose my life amidst the charms
Of so divine a death.’”
79
626 MEMOIRS OF MRS. GENOTIN.
Some of her last words were: “I am coming—I am coming—I am
coming, and it shall be well;-* Heaven is secure, if God be mine.” Do
you ask, what is my will ? My will is the Lord's will : I have no will
of my own. I shall be satisfied when I awake up after his likeness.
Work while it is called to-day. I lament I did not do more for God
while I was in health. Spend your youth for God, my dear daugh-
ters, and scatter the seed of the kingdom wherever you have opportuni-
ty.” To her husband she said, “Oh ! my dear, live near to the Lord,
and your soul will prosper.” When some one expressed surprise at her
willingness to resign her family, and the composure she discovered
when taking her final leave of them, she said: “I have a sweet family
above, and I must go and see them : I can resign husband and children,
because I hope they will soon follow me.”
She 'slept nearly the whole of the last day of her life, which deprived
her friends of many pious expressions which might have dropped from
her lips; for when she awoke, her mind seemed peculiarly happy, and
a heavenly serenity appeared in her countenance. At length, she
opened her eyes once more before they finally closed, looking round
upon each individual of her mourning family: she could not articulate,
but appeared perfectly sensible, waiting for her dismissal with a hope
firmly fixed on Jesus, and glory seemed already begun in her soul. After
a few short sighs, she sweetly fell asleep in Jesus, February 10, 1814,
and is now, where she often longed to be, “with the Lord,” in her
heavenly Father's kingdom.
MIS S M A R Y S T E V E N S O N.
MARY STEVENson, daughter of the Rev. Robert Stevenson, was born
at Castle-Hedingham, in the county of Essex, on the 14th of February
1784. When quite a child, she was remarkably thoughtful, talking with
great earnestness to her younger sister, Sarah, upon the importance of
religion. This solidity of disposition was united with an innocent play-
fulness and cheerfulness of temper, which peculiarly endeared her to
her young associates. Her memory, which was very retentive, she was
continually storing with select hymns. How soon she began to note
down the operations of her own mind, as to religious concerns, is not
known ; but the first minutes which have been found since her decease,
are dated January 1, 1797, when she was not quite thirteen. She thus
presents her pious jaculations to the God of all grace on the opening
year : “O Lord, help me to live more than ever unto thee, since thou
hast kept me, and preserved me in so many dangers O may I live to
thy glory !” “Help me, Lord, now to remember my Creator in the days
of my youth ! O may I not delay, as many others do, till it is for ever
too late l’”
The following short notes will show how strong and lively was her
sense of religion at this very early period.
“January 26, 1799, Sabbath morning. How sweet and pleasant are
the returns of Sabbath-mornings, not only as they give rest from many
of the trifling concerns of this life, but as they afford an opportunity
of waiting upon God in his earthly courts, of joining with his people
in prayer and in praise; and not only his people in one congregation,
but with many thousands of his dear children, who are at the same
moment surrounding his throne ! Delightful thought ! And if this be
so delightful, what will the transports of heaven be, when they shall
come from all nations, kingdoms, peoples, and tongues O inconceiva-
ble joy inexpressible glory !”
“Feb. 14, (her birth-day.) Thanks, a thousand thanks, to the great
Author of all good, for his merciful kindness to me, a poor frail, help-
less, worthless, and polluted worm of the earth ! He has preserved me
to the end of another year of my life. With what shame and confusion
of face have I reason to look back upon it ! What sins have I commit-
ted How have I mispent my time ! During public service, how inat-
tentive have I been, how careless and thoughtless How little have
I done for him 1 O what sins are in my best duties | But, Lord, if
thou art pleased to spare me another year, help me to live more entire-
ly to him who died for sinners, and is risen again Help me ; for,
without thy strength enabling me, I can do nothing !
“February 19. Hear, O heavens ! and attend, O earth ! Listen,
ye angels of his that do his pleasure, and witness the sincerity of my
heart, while I desire now solemnly to dedicate myself to Him 1 to de-
vote myself, my time, my talents, my youth, my all, to his honour and
628 MEMOIRS OF
glory ! Blessed sacrifice To whom should I go but unto thee 1 for
thou hast the words of eternal life Lord, accept the surrender ; ac-
cept me for thine ! Give me my work to do, and help me, as a hireling,
to accomplish my day. May I not be of them that draw back unto per-
dition, but of them that believe to the saving of the soul | Do thou keep
me, that my footsteps slip not
“Feb. 2, 1800. This morning, I went to the house of God with
my body; but, oh, my wandering heart was too far from him I heard
an excellent sermon from 2 Cor. vii. 10. O that I may experience
that godly sorrow which worketh repentance unto Salvation, not to be
repented of !
“Nov. 9. I have felt my mind very low to-day ; but this evening 1
enjoyed such a sweetness and delightful composure of mind, as is, I
trust, an answer to prayer. May it be a token for good ſ”
To the above striking evidences of genuine piety, may be added the
following letter, descriptive of the state of her mind, when she was
received into church-communion, in the twentieth year of her age.
November 6, 1803.
“In reply to your request, my dear father, I now sit down to endea-
vour to recollect some of the gracious dealings of Divine goodness to-
wards me;—some of those methods by which, I trust, my heart has
been, in a small degree at least, weaned from the poor, low, empty en-
joyments of a vain world, and enabled to aspire after those richer, no-
bler, and more exalted pleasures which the Gospel sets before us!
* If God has graciously opened my blind eyes in any measure, and
unstopped my deaf ears, it has been in a manner so gradual and gentle,
that, perhaps, I cannot so exactly relate the particular times and cir-
cumstances of it; yet, it will be an unspeakable mercy if, like the
poor man in the Gospel, I am enabled to say, that “whereas I was once
blind, I now see.” r
“I trust, it has pleased God to bless to me the great advantages I
have had in my religious education. But when I consider the very lit-
tle progress I have made in the Divine life, and the opportunities of im-
provement I have enjoyed above many others, I am filled with shame
and confusion; and am ready to say, ‘Why me, Lord ' Why me !—
Why hast thou bestowed so many favours on one so undeserving, so un-
grateful, and so unprofitable as I have been P *
“For some time past, my mind has, I trust, been impressed with a
sense of the exceeding odiousness of sin, as being so displeasing to the
ever-blessed God, who cannot look upon sin but with detestation. But,
oh ! how often have I to lament that my sinful heart is so prone to the
commission of it! I find so many corruptions within, so much cold-
ness and indifference, that I sometimes fear that the good work has
never been begun in my soul; and that I have not had that deep sor-
row on the account of sin, which worketh repentance unto salvation,
not to be repented of.
“I was much pleased, and I hope profited, with a sermon which you
preached some time ago, from these words, “O do not this abominable
thing that I hate.” I hope. I can see sin to be an abominable thing in-
deed. I know that the weight of only one sin would plunge me down
to hell I What must then be the accumulated weight of those innil-
MISS MARY STEVENSON. 629
s:
merable transgressions of which I have been guilty The very idea
of it fills me with horror. But, behold ! the unsearchable riches of al-
mighty love, which formed the wondrous plan of redemption from mis-
ery so great, so inevitable ! ... I desire to adore the condescension of the
dear Redeemer, who, though he was rich, for our sakes became poor,
that we through his poverty, might be made rich. What stupendous
love and matchless grace, that he, who is the brightness of his Father’s
glory and the express image of his person, should take upon him our
nature, ‘become bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh,” and suffer
the cruel, the accursed death of the cross for us! I hope I can see him
to be a Saviour every way suitable ; just such an one as so vile a crea-
ture as I am stands in need of; and I would desire to embrace him in
all his offices, as my prophet to lead me in his blessed ways; as my
priest to atone for me, and plead my cause before the Father l and as
my king, to rule over me. Blessed Jesus, do thou ever reign in my
heart. Take thou the absolute and entire dominion over it ! ‘Drive
the old dragon from his seat, with all his hellish crew l’ May my obe-
dience ever spring from a filial love, and not a slavish fear; and then I
shall experience his yoke to be easy, and his burden light indeed
“I have felt a desire, for some time past, to come to the Lord’s table,
if I were really one who had tasted that the Lord is gracious ; as it is
a command of the blessed Redeemer, who has said, “Do this in remem-
brance of me ;’ and I am persuaded that there is no service in which
I can engage, so pleasing and delightful, so profitable or so honourable.
It having often been found to be a strengthening ordinance, is another
motive ; for I am sure I have great need of being strengthened. How
kind and tender are his words, that ‘ the bruised reed he will not break,
nor quench the smoking flax l’ And he has promised, that they that
wait on the Lord shall renew their strength ; they shall mount up with
wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary, and they shall
walk and not faint. But yet, I would desire to entertain a godly jeal-
ousy over myself, lest I should ever bring a reproach upon the name of
Christ, and cause his blessed ways to be evil spoken of ; lest, while I
have a name amongst his people here, I should have no name in the
book of life. God forbid that this should ever be my case ! May I
share an interest in your prayers, my dear father, that it may not be,
and that He who is alone able to keep me from falling, would preserve
me safely to his heavenly kingdom, there to sit down with Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob, and all the saints, in the kingdom of God
“Your most affectionate daughter,
* “MARY STEVENSON.”
Her epistolary correspondence, which was very extensive, affords a
strong additonal confirmation of the undissembled piety of her heart.
From the large collection of her letters, one of the most early, and one
of her last, are now selected. The first is to her sister, dated in the
spring of 1799, when she was about fifteen.
“My DEAR SISTER,
“How delightful are the approaches of spring, after such a long and
cold winter as we have had 1 That soul-reviving re-animator of nature
seems to enter with peculiar sweetness. Already have the trees begun
630 MEMOIRS OF
to bud, the beautiful blossom of the filbert-tree is peeping out, and those
of the crocus and snow-drop have made their appearance; the birds
are beginning to sing, and the charming note of the black-bird has been
heard in our garden : so that I think I may fairly bid adieu to winter.
Yet even winter, stern winter, has pleasures peculiar to itself; for what
time is more fitted for social enjoyments than a long winter’s evening f
And an all-wise Providence, lest the vegetable part of creation should
be injured by the severity of the weather, has provided that beautiful
white carpet of snow for its covering. What spectacle in nature is
grander than when, in a clear winter’s evening, we behold the bound-
less ether filled with an innumerable multitude of stars, probably suns,
with planets revolving around them 1 Oh, what nothings we appear in
creation I we, the inhabitants of this little insignificant ball of earth !
Surely we may cry out with the Psalmist, ‘Lord, what is man that thou
art mindful of him, and the son of man, that thou visitest him l’ What
power, what wisdom, what goodness, shine through the whole plan of
creation 1 Oh, who can look at the starry heavens without loving,
praising, and adoring the great Builder and Founder of them ſ”
In one of her last letters, addressed to her parents, Jan. 2, 1808, she
says : *
“In taking a review of the past year, I find abundant matter for hu-
miliation, gratitude, and praise. It is true that, to me, a great part of
it has been chequered by painful affliction ; but even this, I doubt not,
I have great reason to be thankful for. Yes, I trust it has been a rich
blessing in disguise. Affliction teaches, more than a thousand lessons
could do, the vanity of seeking happiness in any thing below the skies.
It is true, I thought I was sensible of this before ; but the world with
her ten thousand temptations endeavoured to persuade me that she like-
wise had happiness in her possession, and fain would have allured me
to have at least divided my heart, though it were ever so small a share.
But the moment affliction enters, all the creatures silently, though power-
fully, exclaim, ‘It is not in us.” Then Religion, with her all-soothing
voice, directs us to Him who is an ever-present help in time of need, and
shows us how foolish, and how vain, to wander only for a moment from
that dear centre of bliss. And I trust, I now see it to be as much for
my pleasure as my interest, to walk closely with God; for I am persuad-
ed that the smallest departure from Him, is a departure from real hap-
piness. How kind and how gracious was it in God to use so gentle, yet,
in his hands, so powerful a means of calling back my wandering heart;
a heart which had long since been avowed His, though not so devotedly
his as it ought to have been l’” *
It having pleased the great Arbiter of all events to visit her with a
pulmonary complaint in the spring of 1806, her mind was frequently led
to the contemplation of what might possibly be the issue. The flatter-
ing nature of the malady, -a slight cough, a little hoarseness, and these
very symptoms occasionally giving way to medicine, deceived both her
parents and herself as to the real danger of her case. But in the sum-
mer of 1807, these symptoms, renewed by some little cold she had
caught, began to assume a very formidable aspect. All the aid of me-
dicine was resorted to which either the London or country practice
could supply... The change of air, and journeys to distant friends, were
tried; but all in vain. This lovely flower, which yielded such pure
.
:
MISS MARY STEVENSON. 631
delight to every beholder, gradually faded; for the worm was at its
root |
The afflictions with which she was exercised, were very long; but
the benefit which she derived from them, and the supports which she
found under them, she owned to be very great. So entirely was she
resigned to the will of her heavenly Father, that she told her sister,
that, during her illness, she had not had one murmuring thought, but
was enabled to rejoice in tribulation. The extreme tenderness of her
conscience led her to fear, that in the time of health she had been too
much attached to the world ; and she was very apprehensive lest,
should she recover, her heart would be entangled by the snares to which
young people are exposed.
Her attention to the Sunday-school had been indefatigable for seve-
ral years, and continued to the last. With her mother and sister, she
had greatly exerted herself in the instruction of the children, in form-
ing them into classes, and in endeavouring to impress upon their minds
the infinite importance of religion. When extremely ill, she would urge
her sister to attend ; and though at other times unwilling to be depriv-
ed of her society, yet, on the Sabbath-morning she would say, “You
had better go ; I am afraid you will neglect the school.” To be made
the honoured instrument of usefulness to others, was the highest ambi-
tion of her mind.
On the 8th of June 1808, she asked her mother, Whether her reco-
very was probable 4 Her mother answered, “I hope you will, my dear;”
but added, that, to a person under her circumstances it was uncertain.
The invalid replied, “I am very happy, and quite resigned ; but this is
not of myself. I have never before spent a year so comfortably as the
last, though it has been a year of great affliction. I have not a wish
for any thing but the Lord’s will ; and all my confidence is upon the
only foundation, the Lord Jesus Christ. I go to him as a poor lost sin-
ner, and he has promised to cast out none that come to him.” She
asked her sister to read Isaiah, lv.; and, upon the conclusion, added,
“There's consolation 1 Every word is worth its weight in gold !’
Lord’s-day, July 3, when under great suffering from weakness and
an incessant cough, she said to her mother, who was lamenting her
situation, “Do not distress yourself you know that it is all right !”
The next day, on her sister observing her in tears, she said, “They are
tears of joy.” Her mother, then coming into the room, was also de-
sirous of knowing what distressed her; “ Nothing,” she replied, “of
an unpleasant nature, occasions this emotion. I find such a sweet evi-
dence that I am the Lord's, and am surprised that he should manifest
himself in such a gracious manner to one so unworthy. Oh, what a
support the blessed Gospel is t” -:
Some days after, she said to her sister, “I do feel so happy that my
mind is resigned to the will of God, that I have hardly any preference.”
—“I suppose,” said her sister, “if you have any, it is for life?” She
answered, “Sometimes I wish for death ; but sometimes I should like
to continue in life. Not that I think I should be more happy.” Her
sister rejoined, “Is it that you may be more useful ?”—“Yes,” she re-
turned, “it is. I think it patural for a young person, if it be the will of
God, to wish to live, in order to live to his glory. It is a selfish, wish
to desire death merely to be happy, while there is any thing for me
632 MEMOIRS OF
to do in life. If the Lord will condescend to make use of such a weak in-
strument, I am perfectly satisfied in being in the hands of God; if I re-
turn to health, I hope that I shall still feel perfectly resigned to his will.”
One evening, sitting in the hall with her mother and sister, she broke
out into the most sweet and triumphant language. The whole of her
expressions cannot be recollected. The following are some of them :
“The Lord will not leave me; no, he has said he will not, mamma |
How sweet are the promises 1 I am happy, O very happy very happy
indeed Had I foreseen this affliction, I should never have thought that
I should have been so supported. It is, to be sure, an awful thing to go
into eternity; an unknown eternity; but, oh, Jesus is there ! He is gone
before ; I shall not be alone.” Her mother then repeated that verse,
“There, on a green and flowery mount,
Our weary souls shall sit ;
And, with transporting joys, recount
The labours of our feet!”
To which she subjoined, in another stanza ;
“See the kind angels at the gates,
Inviting us to come;
There Jesus, the Forerunner, waits,
To welcome travellers home.”
“I have always admired this verse when I was a child. My hope
is upon the Rock of Ages. It will be but a little time before we shall
all meet again.” Her mother mentioned the pleasure it had given her
father and herself, that they had so repeatedly sat down at the Lord's
table with her and her sister : “But,” said dear Mary, “how cold and
lifeless have I been at those seasons !” She then spoke of the joys of
Heaven, and of the blessed society there. -
A short time before her departure, in going up stairs one evening
to bed, she said, “A few more weary steps; but Heaven will make
amends for all.”
One morning, when she was rising, she said, “I wish I was better;”
but she immediately checked herself, appearing entirely resigned to the
will of her heavenly Father. She would sometimes seem apprehensive
that her religion was all a delusion; but would soon rebuke herself,
saying, “My hope is alone upon Christ, the Rock of Ages; and I know
he will not deceive me !”
When she was in bed another morning, and her sister handing her
breakfast to her, she said: “Oh, I love the soul that must and will do
good ; the kind creature that runs to the sick bed, I might rather say
bedstead, of a poor neighbour, wipes away the moisture of a fever,
smooths the clothes, beats up the pillow, fills the pitcher, sets it within
reach, and administers only a cup of cold water. Peace be with that
good soul! She also must come in due time into the condition of her
neighbour, and then, may “the Lord strengthen her upon the bed of
languishing,” and, by some kind hand like her own, make all her bed
in her sickness.” * . .
On the morning of Sept. 6, she came down stairs, as usual, to break-
fast, which was always in the hall during the warm season. There she
also dined with the family, and ate moderately of the breast of a par-
tridge. She even talked of riding out that afternoon behind her father
Af
MISS MARY STEVENSON. 633
which had been her constant custom, whenever the weather was
favourable ; but, finding herself not equal to the fatigue of the exercise,
she declined it; and, according to her usual custom, she retired into an
adjoining parlour; when, having been assisted to her seat, she said,
“Don’t leave the room, sister ; bring my little table and cushion :”
upon which she reclined her head. The difficulty of breathing, with
which she had been frequently afflicted, returning and increasing, at
last, about a quarter before four in the afternoon, without convulsion,
without struggle, without pain, without the least discomposure of fea-
tures or alteration of countenance, she softly breathed out her gentle
spirit into the hands of her beloved Lord; still sitting as before, and with
her father’s arms around her.
Although her affliction was long, yet no murmur, no repining, no
complaint ever escaped her. She was favoured, almost uninterruptedly,
with the light of her heavenly Father’s countenance. Scarcely a single
cloud intervened; which made her say, as she frequently did, “My
affliction is a light affliction.”
80
M. R. S. M A R Y CO OPER.
Miss MARY HANson, eldest daughter of John Hanson, Esq. was
born in London, Sept 16, 1786. She was favoured with a religious edu-
cation, and was not suffered to enter into those vain amusements which
are so injurious to multitudes of young persons. At twelve years of age
she left school, and completed her education under private tuition. The
encouragement held out to her application and improvement by an intel-
ligent and affectionate brother, proved the means of exciting in herardent
mind, that thirst for knowledge which ever after proved a source of con-
stant delight. Her early years were passed in comparative solitude, her
parents judging that the example of youth, in general, affords but few
intances worthy of imitation. At the time, however, she thought
this a very unnecessary strictness, and envied those whose less cautious
parents suffered them to form acquaintances without inquiry or con-
C62TI).
At this period, and previously to her leaving school, she often felt
deep convictions of her own sinfulness, and the absolute necessity of
personal religion. She has been known frequently, when at school, to
assemble several of the girls together in a large closet, and there speak
to them, and pray with so much earnestness, that they have been all
melted to tears. These impressions, however, were but as the “morn-
ing cloud and early dew,” and were succeeded by a very different dis-
position qf mind. In the summer of 1802, she for the first time left her
parents’ house, on a visit to Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight; where
the natural gaiety of her mind, which had been hitherto under restraint,
meeting with objects congenial to its taste, appeared in all its ardour.
Card parties and gay visits were now her delight; and she afterwards
confessed, that she endeavoured to disbelieve the Bible and the exist-
ence of a God. The reflections of her retired moments were now so
intolerable to her, that, to drown them, she read, with her accustomed
avidity, volume after volume of novels and romances. Fascinated with the
world and its manners, she returned home with a mind little disposed to
enterinto those serious and self-denying views of religion, which the Spirit
of God had wrought in the minds of three in her own family, during her
absence: she, however, attended with them at the Lock Chapel, where
the judicious and intelligent preaching of the Rev. Mr. Fry first arrested
her attention, and then excited in her mind an earnest concern for
the salvation of her soul. She soon became a member of the Lock,
by receiving the Sacrament, administered according to the form of the
Church of England, which she always preferred. She also united her-
self with a society called a Conversation Meeting, under the superinten-
dence of her minister, for the purpose of spiritual advantage and instruc-
tion ; and exerted herself to the utmost of her power, to instruct a large
class of girls in the Sunday school of that society. But her removal
to Hammersmith, in the spring of 1803, put a period to this work of
MRS. COOPER. 635
love in which she so much delighted ; and it was not until the year
1806, that an opportunity again occurred of resuming her successful en-
deavours to impart knowledge and light to the benighted rainds of the
ignorant poor. This she did, not only on the Sabbath, but constantly
twice in the week, when she devoted her evening hours to instruct them
in writing, arithmetic, &c.
In the year 1806, she began to note down her religious experience,
rather by way of meditation and reflection, than of diary. From the age
of seventeen, she had renounced the world, being fully persuaded that
none of its pleasures or pursuits could impart happiness to her immor-
tal spirit. For a considerable time, she was a plant that flourished in
the shade, and her real worth was little known; but, had God in his provi-
dence called her to a more public situation in life, such were her natu-
ral abilities, and so highly had she cultivated them, that she would have
ranked high among those excellent and intelligent women who are an
honour to our country. A series of extracts from the Meditations will
more justly portray her character than any thing that could be said by
any other person. The first entry of this kind is dated in her twentieth
6.a.I.
“July 20, 1806. Happiness is the universal object of pursuit; but
how various are the ways which men propose to themselves for its attain-
ment When the desired object is possessed, alas ! it also has inscri-
bed upon it “vanity and vexation of spirit.” The hope still remains, that
the next attempt will prove more successful ; but, alas ! it is not in the
power of finite creatures to impart it. God, in his wisdom, has made us
dependent on himself for happiness; he has given us a free will, to
choose this world for our portion, or Himself, from whom flow pleasures
for evermore. Sin has so bewildered, so darkened the faculties of our
souls, that every thing beyond what is finite, is enveloped in a mist.
Revelation, the best gift of God to man, unfolds the glories of an invisi-
ble world. The solitude I have so long enjoyed, and yet, alas ! so little
improved, has often led me to retire into my own mind, and converse
with my heart. I have discovered a jewel, little prized, because little
known. This treasure, bestowed on all God’s creatures, when improved,
may become a source of consolation and felicity that will make them
superior to the contempt of men, and the agitations of disquietude. I
feel convinced, that to improve my intellectual powers, is to have in
store a constant spring of delights: it may prevent me from running into
those snares which are held out as baits to the vacant, listless mind.
But let me not forget that inward monitor, that soul bestowed upon me;
that it is immortal, and will return to God who gave it, and that it is
made capable of happiness or misery beyond this visible state. The
thread of life, so very slender, so soon broken, is in the hand of God. G
thou Searcher of hearts, cold and senseless as I am to spiritual things, let
not a consideration at once so awful and impressive pass over my mind
without its due weight.”
“August 10, 1806. The cultivation of patience and meekness, both
personally and relatively, is of the utmost social importance. If meek-
ness in the sight of God is of great price, how must the possession and
exercise of that spirit promote the peace of the possessor, and diffuse the
charms of kindness around ! In a moral point of view, the government
of the passions, when heathenish darkness prevailed, was esteemed the
636 MEMOIRS OF
highest pitch of moral perfection, and worthy the endeavour of every man.
Socrates proved how the exercise of his reason could subdue dispositions
of the worst kind; mental energy could repress passions, which, if un-
subdued, would, like a torrent, bear down every thing before them. If
a man, destitute of the meridian light of revelation, ignorant of the pu-
rity of the Deity, surrounded by superstition and pagan brutality, could
thus triumph over himself, how should a Christian blush, who indulges
every rising disposition, and suffers passions to be unchecked, which
disturb the harmony of social intercourse, and exclude the sweet breath
of peace
“I desire to live and act as in the sight of God; of him who gave an
example of what his followers should be. Professors of religion, while
they study to preserve outward decency and circumspection of deport-
ment, too often stop there. This is a stumbling block to many. Is
this all Christianity has effected 4 Was it for this only the great Sa-
crifice was made 4 Blush, Christian and be not called by that holy
name, while you indulge dispositions and propensities which are in di-
rect opposition to the lovely spirit of the Gospel. It breathes love and
benevolence. The old nature of passion, revenge, malice, and envy,
is to pass away, and the new nature of meekness, gentleness, and
easiness to be entreated, to take its place. It requires both holiness
of heart and life. Hence, the serenity of the Christian is secured,
and is made capable of tasting that peace which surpasseth all under-
standing.
“Sunday, Feburary 21, 1808. Blessed is the man that trusteth in
the Lord, that maketh the Lord his portion ; who, with eyes filled
with tears of gratitude, can say, ‘The Lord is my shepherd.” Bless-
ings, beyond mortal calculation, are included in this personal appro-
riation; &r
P. Thus to regard that God, of whose approach thunders and lightnings
were the symbols, when about to dispense his laws to his creatures; to
call him by that endearing epithet, what a mysterious privilege My
soul, do thou diligently seek to be included in the number of that bless-
ed flock. He who said, ‘Let there be light, and there was light;" who
by an act of his will, created man; and, but for infinite love, might have
destroyed him when he broke the only command imposed on him ; He
who taketh up the isles as a very little thing, who counteth the nations
as a drop of a bucket; even this God proposes himself for thy portion,
O my soul | -
“Lost in the contemplation of thy attributes, teach me, O Lord, to
comprehend how it is, that so intimate a relation as a father and child
can subsist between Thee, who art infinitely great, and a rebellious, lost,
child of Adam | It is enough, that holy word, inscribed by the pen of
mercy, exhibits it to my understanding. I would wonder and adore.
“Why did I not behold the light in regions where stocks and stones
are the objects of adoration'ſ Why do I not owe my origin to parents
who have substituted Mohammed for Christ? To distinguishing mercy
alone we owe the privilege of reading that blessed word, which, a few
centuries ago, was denied to all but a domineering priesthood. O my
God l how imperfect is the attempt to acknowledge the gratitude I
would feel in having parents who fear Thee ; who have taught me thy
word, and brought me up with a reverence for thy ordinances ! My
MRS. COOPER. 637
heart, so prone to be rebellious, so alive to vanity, so negligent of self-
inquiry, what would it have been, or rather, what would it not have
been, had they introduced me to the follies and the dissipation to which
thousands, less distinguished than myself, have become a ready prey;
a prey to that enemy who ever watches the unwatchful; who lurks to
destroy, who strews the paths of youth with snares and baits, that he
may carry them captive 4 *
“If, after the enumeration of such privileges, I should be found a
mere speculative believer, a practical Atheist, how great the condemna-
tion 1 3.
“If religion be true, it ought to be the grand object of my life, the
supreme concern of my heart.”
“January 1, 1809. ‘We take no note of time but from its loss”
“I have just closed another year of my mortal account : it is an
epoch which demands reflection, as, ere the close of the present one,
the angel of death may swear that time with me shall be no longer,
as the veil which now separates me from eternity may be drawn aside,
and the realities of a future state burst on my astonished soul. It be-
comes me, therefore, as a being on whom God has bestowed an immortal
spirit, to make ready, and to live in daily expectation of an event, which,
from its uncertainty, is of the utmost importance, and, from its conse-
quences, of tremendous moment. Strange the infatuation, that there
can be triflers on the brink of such a precipice . The beasts of the field,
the birds of the air, all fulfil the appointed end of their existence: shall
I, endued with a rational soul, an immortal principle, live to myself,
confine my hopes, views, and expectations, to this transitory state, this
commencement of being, where thorns and briers annoy my path, and
where I may to-morrow be bereft of every comfort Forbid it, O God
Make me more diligent, more earnest in my desires after thee, more
watchful over my own heart, and more willing to prepare myself, by a
holy life, for the enjoyment of thy presence for ever. Let not my
earnestness in the pursuit of knowledge be a snare to me, either by oc-
cupying too much of my thoughts, to the exclusion of devotion, or by
making me proud and ostentatious : rather let it be an increasing cause
of humility, never to estimate nor regard people according to their ac-
quirements, but according to their character and good sense; for, had
they possessed opportunities and advantages equally favourable to the
improvement of their minds, they might have exercised their talents
to better purpose. By the cultivation of my mind, the exercise of my
reason, I hope, in future life, to fill up my station more rationally, and
with a greater share of propriety, than those who either have not had,
or have voluntarily neglected, the same means of improvement. To
be reasonable in my judgment, liberal in my opinion, benevolent in
my intentions, will, I hope be the lasting practical effects of my present
desires of information; ever to remark the great chain of Providence,
every link of which is necessary to the completion of his designs. The
inequalities of good and evil in this life, the sufferings of virtue, the tri-
umphs of vice; all this will be cleared up at the day of retribution. It
is God who commands the raging of the seas, who, for wise designs
ermits the existence of evil.”
“April 30, 1809. How delightful is the contemplation of the works of
God! My enraptured eye runs over the productions of the earth with
638 MEMOIRS OF
a curiosity and interest that never leave me. The passing clouds, the
opening flowers, the sweet river, whose constant changes give a variety
to the scenes, how successively do these steal on my imagination; and
oft-times how inexpressible is my gratitude for receiving from the hands
of God so many outward blessings, and a mind capable of drawing the
truest delight from them But, oh! yon beauteous cloud has vanished,
and the flowers which I delight to view, will fade and die; nature, and
all her loveliness, is but transitory in her duration. Time with me has
a destined period; but time is a loan, of the misimprovement of which
my God will require a strict account. Does not reason imperiously de-
mand that the Author of my being should receive the homage of my
heart? Thus far it goes, but no further. Revelation takes me up where
reason leaves me: it has drawn aside the veil, and made manifest a
mode of access whereby the Deity receives into the arms of his love, the
creature who had revolted from his government, but who returns with
penitential tears, and asks for mercy through the atoning sacrifice.
“O ! my soul, do thou press forward with more alacrity in the heavenly
road. Much is to be done : a corrupt heart must be renewed; the mo-
tives of thy conduct must be traced to the love of God; every attain-
ment in knowledge must be consecrated to God, must be subservient to
the end of thy being; and humility must mark every part of this de-
portment. How much is to be done But what is the alternative —
Endless blessedness, or endless misery.
“By prayer, and dependence on God, I hope to overcome that sloth-
fulness of spirit which has so much prevailed over me. I trace much
to the loss of time in bed : it has occasioned me to hurry over my de-
votions, and produced a lassitude of mind which has operated sensibly
on all my undertakings. I do propose now to rise at or before six, and
to offer my feeble orison to God in a more becoming, heart-felt manner.
My other studies to be orderly pursued. History, natural and moral
philosophy, particularly Locke’s Conduct of the Understanding. My
heart ought to overflow with gratitude to that Being who has so pro-
fusely bestowed his mercies upon me. Had I lived in a town or city,
how would the morning of my days have confined my understanding,
cramped my views and my delights in the works of nature | Retirement,
from thy calm influence I have been taught to seek, in an improvement of
my understanding, pleasures which live within my constant reach : the
superiority of these, to the trifling, unsatisfactory vanities of the world,
have made me hug them to my heart, and court their continued in-
fluence.”
“Nov. 16, 1809. The life of God in the soul can be only maintained
by constant watchfulness: it is vain to compromise with the world; by
so doing, spirituality is banished. A well-grounded peace with God can
be only possessed by the heart that has entirely, without any reserve,
given up all to God.
“The inestimable blessing of Divine illumination, the gift of the
Holy Spirit, is promised only to those that seek it. Perseverance is
needful; and when the infinite value of this gift is considered, surely
the soul should possess itself with patience and diligent seeking, till the
Divine breathing be communicated. I have always found the blessings
of'grace dispensed to me in proportion to my diligence in seeking them.
Much profit I have found by stated seasons of devotion, and devotional
MRS. COOPER. 639
reading. This is, indeed, great encouragement for me most diligently
and importunately to seek that sense of God’s pardoning mercy, which
shall diffuse the peace which passeth understanding. Many have sweet-
ly experienced this, and have given proof that they have obtained it, by
an entire renewal of the soul: this is the lost image of God restored.
“My confidence in God is greatly strengthened. The world has lost all
its charms for me; and ‘the pearl of great price,” is what I most desire to
possess. To keep my heart with all diligence, to watch the first risings
of sin, and to fear the quenching of the Holy Spirit, be this now my care
and business. Religion demands my time, my talents, and my affec-
tions; and I bless God, I have no desire to make any reserve. I desire
to be wholly the Lord’s, and to prove it by holiness in all manner of con-
versation. I must indeed daily pray and strive against pride and warmth
of temper : the first manifests itself when my favourite opinions are op-
posed. Here, indeed, a strict watch is necessary. I must avoid con-
troversy in religion ; and remember, that acrimony and taking offence
are great proofs that piety has not its due influence on the heart.”
“December 11, 1809. The last week, I enjoyed many moments of
sweet, inexpressible consolation : at times, I enjoyed an ejaculatory
communion with-God. Although I have not had that distinct assur-
ance of his pardoning love, for which I most earnestly pray, yet, I
cannot but receive these occasional visitations of his favour as tokens for
good, that, in his own time, I shall experience that blissful union with
him, and that ardent love to him, which I desire. O my God, have I
not given myself up to Thee? Is not my entire dependence on thy be-
loved Son, whom thou didst give a ransom for all '! I desire to act con-
stant faith on him ; to give him the best, the warmest desires of my
heart ; to have him reign unrivalled there ! Shall I seek his face in
vain l No, I cannot doubt his promise, who, to the present time, has
been so faithful. It is through his grace I am what I am, and that I
can truly say I desire God as my portion. My happiness and hopes are
centered alone in him ; and I long and pray to have every faculty of
my soul absorbed in Divine love. This will renovate my nature, and
make me grieve even at the thought of sinning against so much good-
ness. Though I outwardly check the evils of my nature, yet, if they
rise within, what cause of humility and of constant application to the
blood of Jesus !” &
“December 23, 1809. I have had a most pleasing anticipation of
the services of to-morrow, once again to be invited to the spiritual ban-
quet prepared by my Saviour ; once again to have those precious words
addressed to me; ‘Take, eat : this is my body.” If faith be but in ex-
ercise, shall I not be strengthened to run the race to obtain the prize 4
Will not my heart be more warmed, my graces more nourished, my
corruptions more weakened, my hopes of assurance more heightened If
I do not receive these blessings, I must impute it to the weakness of my
faith. But let me examine myself, whether my heart be fitly prepared
for the reception of these Divine mysteries. What is my advancement in
knowledge | Has the recollection of the sins of my early years, of mis-
improvement of that light inspired into my mind at an early period, of
my heart-wanderings from God after I had made an outward profession
in 1803, of my careless performance of private prayer and devotional
reading, of my lukewarmness and mis-improvement of the ordinances
640 MEMOIRS OF
of God, humbled me before God! and have I sought forgiveness through
Christ for these manifold transgressions 1 Have I bewailed these of
fences as committed against God’s purity, and as the basest ingratitude 1
If I have, can I find more humility, more watchfulness, more intense de-
sires after entire conformity to God'ſ Lord, I have not the evidences I
desire to have ; yet, blessed be thy name, I can trace earnest desires and
endeavours after them; and I daily wait at thy feet for these blessings,
for the fulfilment of thy promises. , ‘Without faith it is impossible to
please God.” Have I used the little imparted to me'! By contemplating
the unseen world, and by a lively persuasion that my only trust, and
hope of present and future happiness is from the Redeemer's love, I have
rejoiced with joy unspeakable; sweet peace has shed its balmy influence
on my heart, and I have exclaimed, “My beloved is mine, and I am his.”
How have I loved retirement on these occasions, and mused on the
precious love of God to my soul I Surely, O Lord, it was thy Spirit
working on my heart. How lovely was Christ ! how hateful the ap-
pearances of evil to my soul, which at those seasons panted after thee :
Were not these exercises of faith ! Lord, increase my faith. Help me
to be watchful against the risings of sin, and to be importunate with thee
for larger degrees of humility. O that heavenly grace
“Jesus, my teacher, can I ever indulge high-mindedness, self-love,
and vain conceit 4 I shall have strangely forgotten thee as my pattern,
who wast meek and lowly of heart, if these detestable evils again reign
in my heart. ‘By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if
ye have love one to another.’
“Do I love the image of Christ wherever I behold it reflected in any
of his members ? Can I esteem grace though in poverty'ſ Do I behave
with Christian humility to all who love the Saviour, and strive to pro-
^.
mote their interests as far as I have ability " In this I do rejoice, and
humbly hope I may add an affirmative to each of these queries. Lord,
increase my love of them and thee.
“Is my obedience to Christ constrained 4 Or does it proceed from
love and entire willingness to be his in body, soul, and spiritſ! Blessed
Saviour, can I contemplate thy life, death, and sufferings, and be insen-
sible to the amazing sacrifice, the astonishing love which could induce
thee to leave the realms of uncreated blessedness, that thy creature man
might be reconciled to an offended God! Didst thou offer thyself a vo-
luntary sacrifice for my sins, and shall I hesitate whether I shall give
up all to thee ? Impossible !—Poor, indeed, is the return ; yet, as thou
art supremely lovely in my esteem, I wish to make no reserve, but to
dedicate all my powers to thee, and have all my desires centre in thee.
Nothing but thy love can satisfy my soul. O be present with me when
I bow before thy altar, and partake of the broken bread, emblem of that
precious body which was broken on the cross ; and drink of that wine,
commemorative of thy most precious blood, which flowed for the sal-
vation of thy guilty creatures. I am very weak and helpless, but thou
art strong and mighty. I want heavenly wisdom, that I may under-
stand the heights and depths of redeeming love. I want to love the
Lord with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength; and to
love my neighbour as myself. Thou alone canst make me a partaker
of these amazing blessings. O may I not ask amiss, but receive of thee
grace, constantly to seek thy favour, and live upon thy revealed word.”
MRS, COOPER. 641
“January 24, 1810. It is with peculiar gratitude I record, that the
last months of the past year have been, in a spiritual sense, the best of
my life. God has been faithful to his word: shall I ever forsake him,
and grieve his spirit by lukewarmness? Unless I persevere in fervent
prayer, in devotional retirement, and constant watchfulness, the ensnar-
ing world, and my more ensnaring heart, will gain the victory, and
heaven and eternity will be but rarely contemplated. O my God, save
me from this Never can I know true peace independent of thee. O
enable me to prefer thee to all the world besides, and to exercise a never-
failing trust in thy providence 1 O my heavenly Father, let me hence-
forth depend supremely on thy parental care, and seek no other guide
than thy holy word. May a more entire happiness in thee be the su-
preme object of my hopes | Whatever may be the result of the year I
am now entering upon, with regard to temporal concerns, may my soul
but enjoy the presence of God, and all will be well. I wish more pow-
erfully to feel the necessity of constantly seeking the influence of the
Holy Spirit, to renovate my mature, to baptize me afresh : these are evi-
dences of a state of acceptance with God. Christ was manifested to
destroy sin; and if he has been and is manifested to my soul, sin will
be destroyed, viz. its reigning and allowed powers. I must be meek
and lowly, humble and teachable : these are lessons none can effectually
teach me, but the Spirit; and he can, and will, if I act faith on the
promises, and be not satisfied till they are fulfilled.”
“January 27, 1810. Eternity alone can develope the full extent of
the Redeemer's love. When we there behold him in the splendour of,
his Godhead, surrounded by angels and archangels, and the spirits of
the just made perfect; when we contrast his glory with his humiliation,
and ourselves have attained the crown of eternal felicity; then, with an
emphasis heaven alone caninspire, shall weexclaim, Worthyisthe Lambſ
“Jesus, mindful of the weakness of human nature, though on the
point of his extreme sufferings, left a sensible commemoration of his
love, by which an appeal is made to sense and faith in those symbols
of his death. O my soul, think a little of this sacrifice. Now the ap-
plication of it will redeem thee from the power of death, hell, and the
grave. And what return canst thou make Nothing adequate to his
gift. But what does he require? ‘My heart.” O may it be my de-
light to consecrate every thing to him; and while by faith I see him
stretched on the cross, may I powerfully feel the dreadful nature and
tendency of sin . If I love him, I shall consider every sin as again in-
flicting the wounds of Calvary. He died, that the lost image of God
might be restored in man; that, by the sanctification of the Spirit, man
might be fitted for the realms of purity.
“‘As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul af-
ter thee, O God!” I am transported with thy love . Nothing but thee
will content my soul. To partake of the precious memorials of thy
love, is all my heart desires. O be present with the influence of thy
Spirit; and let me approach thy altar with my faith firmly fixed on
Him who bled, that I might never die l
“I desire to be filled with love, and to lie prostrate in the dust at the
consideration of my own unworthiness.
“I want my repentance deepened, my faith confirmed, my love in-
flamed. Thou only art sufficient for these things.”
81
642 MEMOIRS OF
“April 28, 1810. The inward witness of Christianity is, to the be-
liever who experiences it, an unanswerable proof of its divinity. While
this pervades the soul, (and the fault is in myself if it do not always,)
how lovely are Divine requisitions ! Self-denial has its joys, and the
cross has a sweetness which divests it of its name. I feel my nature
so renewed, so transformed from what it was, that while I constantly
feel, ‘Oh, to grace how great a debtor P I am constrained humbly to
hope, and humbly believe, that God is my Father, and views me with
love. Amazing privilege when I contemplate his glories in nature,
in this beauteous globe; when my heart vibrates with gratitude for the
love with which his Spirit has inspired me ; oh, when I can call him
mine, and know that all his glorious attributes conspire to ensure my
confidence in him ; that all, while I walk in obedience to Him, proclaim
peace to my soul |
“I find the blessed effect of renewing my covenant with God every
morning. I can set to my seal that God is true. He is unchangeable; and
should a distance ever grow between us, the fault will be in me. Bitter
work for repentance indeed Why should I injure my own peace by
ever allowing indifference towards so glorious an object to obtrude on
my soul. Forbid it, gracious God . Let the love I now feel towards
thee, every day increase 1 May I never be satisfied without progress
in the knowledge of thee I
“Last evening Ibade farewell, for a few weeks, to my good old
women ; and I found considerable delight in offering up prayer to God
for them, to keep and support them till we meet again. I visited those
on my poor list. I hope, God has begun a good work in two of them.
But what a veil of ignorance is there to remove from the hearts of those
who have passed forty or sixty years in ignorance of God . His Spirit
alone can effect it. I have read and talked to them ; prayed with and
for them. O that God may give an increase ! I am at times almost
overwhelmed with the state of those who are dead in sin ; the awful
precipice on which they so heedlessly stand. Fain would I give up my-
self to do all my little ability can, to warn and allure them to flee from
the wrath to come.”
“September 16, 1810. This is the twenty-fourth return of my natal
day; and, O ! that I could express half what I feel, of the goodness of
that Being who gave and has preserved my existence amid such count-
less mercies 1 All the return I can make, is, to give myself up wholly
to Him ; which I desire this day to do, more than I have ever done
before. His law do I love ; His commandments are my delight ; and
I desire to have no will but His. Accept the poor return, O Lord ' and
make my heart thy constant abode. I can truly and thankfully acknow-
ledge, that the last year has been the best and happiest of my life.
With but litttle interruption, I have enjoyed a sense of God’s favour ;
and have found an increasing portion of faith and love, a greater dead-
ness to the world, and a desire to live only to the glory of that Saviour
who has called me from darkness to light. And, while I feel the thirst
which I now do after all the mind that was in Christ, I am certain the
Holy Spirit will shed abroad the love in my heart, by which I shall be
made to delight in his ways. Lord, give me watchfulness, and faith to
look within the veil, that the blessed inheritance reserved for those that
love thee, may be discernible to my spiritual sight ! And may I
***
MRS. COOPER. 643
never consider I have attained what is to be attained, till the very
thoughts of my heart are renewed.
“During the last year, I have united myself, I trust, with an indis-
soluble union, to those whom some call the Wesleyan Methodists. As it
regards myself, I bless God they were ever brought to this village. That
they preach the pure Gospel, my examination on the subject leads me
to decide. Happiness is the result of the religion they enforce; I have
found it so ; and with this people I desire to live and die. My improve-
ment during the past year has not, indeed, been in proportion to my
opportunities. I have much cause for shame. My affections have too
often been worldly, and my vigilance slack in the pursuit of heaven. O
may the coming year find me more zealously alive, more importunately
anxious in Divine things and if it should please the Lord to remove
me to a sphere wherein different relative duties may be called in exercise,
O that his Spirit may illuminate and guide, so that my light may shine,
and glory to God in the highest, be the effect of my walk and conversation 1
God will direct my paths; and he will not suffer me to err, while I look
to him, and depend upon him for direction. My mind has, on this sub-
ject of promise, been unusually drawn out. I have felt confident of pa-
rental guidance, and of my safety beneath heavenly direction. This
day, O Lord, I record the goodness of thy name, the faithfulness of thy
word. O receive me to the arms of thy protection, guide me by thy
Spirit. And, as I this day solemnly dedicate myself to Thee, take Jesus
for my Redeemer, and the Holy Spirit for my Sanctifier: so I desire to
make no reserve, but devote body, soul, and spirit, all that I have, and
all that I am, to that gracious Being who made me and has the first
and only claim. Amen.”
The latter end of the year 1810 was an important era in Miss Hanson’s
life : at this time commenced her acquaintance with Mr. John Cooper,
of London, which afterwards terminated in marriage. Every step she
took in this business was marked with prudent caution, extreme self-
diffidence, and the humblest dependence on the direction of God. In-
deed, the whole affair was conducted in a way highly creditable to her
good sense and piety, and which affords an admirable model of Christian
simplicity and highly spiritualized affection. She thus introduces the
subject in her diary. 4.
“October 23, 1810. Still, through the grace of God, I am enabled to
hold on my way rejoicing. I find religion inconceivably beyond my for-
mer apprehensions, a source and spring of true happiness and peace; to
which I was a stranger till enabled to give my heart up to God, and
make his service the prevailing disposition and delight of my heart. I
am sensible, that every good desire and action is alone from the assis-
tance of the Spirit of God. I find that I have no strength independent
of Him; but, glory be to his name, He is at all times accessible, and
always waiting to be gracious. To press forward is my earnest desire:
to know nothing but “Jesus Christ and him crucified,”—to devote every
power and faculty of my soul to his service, is the ardent wish of my
heart. What a burning zeal have I sometimes found, to be more active-
ly employed in the service of my Lord! I have often besought of God
to make me an instrument of more extensive usefulness; as inactivity
in a Christian seems to me so inexcusable.”
644 TMEMOIRS OF
*
“May 1, 1811. The more I know of my own heart, the more deep-
ly I feel the want of humility. When this heavenly grace has taken
deep root in my soul, the fruits of the Spirit will grow in larger abun-
dance upon it. It is for want of this, that, when my opinions are con-
troverted, and my judgment called in question, I feel an inward impa-
tience, though spared the outward expression of it; and as I have to
do with a God who searches the heart, so, I would be as vigilant over
the inward motions of corruption, as of my exterior deportment. I want
inward holiness—
‘A heart in every thought renewed
A copy, Lord, of thine.
“My religion must be visible by its effects; not by parade and show,
but by humility of soul, meekness of spirit, purity of intention. There-
fore, religion must be with me the work of every moment.
“This, indeed, will tend rather to capacitate me for the proper ful-
filment of all my lawful avocations, not, as some falsely say, unfit the
mind for the duties of life. God demands a reasonable service ; and,
while he calls to diligence in business, he will bestow grace to produce
fervency of spirit. O God, raise me from the ruins of the fall ! I only
live when I live to thy glory. I only am happy when I can call Thee
mine, and exult in the prospect of enjoying Thee for ever. I have ever
found Thee faithful: I never sought Thee with my whole heart, with-
out being answered as by fire. O, let that fire descend and consume all
my sins, that those enemies of my Lord may have no place in me. I
cannot question that love which moved Thee to leave the abodes of
glory, and to veil thyself in suffering humanity for me: nor that Om-
nipotence which said, ‘Let there be light, and there was light.” Who
then shall limit the Holy One of Israel ! With Thee all things are
possible; even the full restoration of the lost image of God in my
soul.”
“May 4. I have lately been led to reflect much on the advantage of
knowledge in religion : by this I mean not only an acquaintance with
its doctrines, but a well-digested view of its gradual development, from
the first promise given to Adam, till Jesus Christ, made plainer and
plainer, as it flowed down the river of time; with a comparison of this
religion with all the rest, that have ever appeared, and swayed the
hearts and judgments of men. In addition to this, when we regard
its adaptation to supply our wants, to impart food to that immortal
principle within us, ever craving for what the earth cannot give, Reli-
gion liberally opens her treasures, and gives the expectant soul the hope
ë. promise, that even here she may be “filled with all the fulness of
r0 .”
“I must differ from an opinion I have frequently heard expressed, and
once adopted, that the poor (that is, the ignorant) enjoy religion
most. That many of them do enjoy it in a blessed degree, my own
observations confirm ; and, that the peculiar circumstances of many,
call more for the simple exercise of faith, for the supply of their daily
wants, I also believe; and many happy proofs are recorded in their ex-
perience, of God’s fulfilling his promises in this respect. But the be-
liever, with an improved understanding and a correct judgment, who,
MRS. COOPER. 645
at the same time, receives the kingdom of God as a little child, with
all that simplicity so essentially connected with genuine conversion,--
while he maintains this child-like spirit, and has a growing enlargement
of mind, consequent upon his frequent communion with God, and his
nature and his works,—this is, in my apprehension, the happiest Chris-
tian ; and in proportion as he regards religion as the one thing necessary
to his happiness, and is jealous over every other enjoyment in which it
is not the principal ingredient, so will be his stability. And thus his
advances will be marked with its genuine characters.
“Religion is addressed to the judgment, as well as to the heart. It
should be interwoven with all our moral perceptions; and while it lays
claim to the affections, it should have the hearty concurrence of the un-
derstanding. This I wish to enforce upon myself, and to look well how
far these observations incorporate with my real state and present expe-
rience. To a want of this, I cannot but impute the many failures in
the religious life, which so frequently occur, of persons who for a while
were warm and zealous, and bidding fair for usefulness, suddenly relax-
ing in their energy, and becoming ciphers, if they outwardly continue
professors in the Church of Christ.
“Those who look for eminence in any science, use the means for
becoming eminent; and all their exertions tend towards the promotion
of their object: so it is in the Christian life. To be what God calls us
to be, we must use diligence, and let it be the paramount desire of our
whole lives.”
“August 7, 1811. I hope I have not lived to the present time with-
out deriving some very important lessons from observation and expe-
rience, particularly in domestic life. This is the sphere of a woman’s
action. It is here that full scope is given for the right use of her un-
derstanding, and for the exemplification of true religion. A very im-
portant trust is committed to her ; and I am inclined to think, that on
her, primarily, the happiness, as well as good order of a family, de-
volves. Her trials will chiefly arise from those of her own household: it
is, therefore, of very great importance, that a good and decisive system
should be first arranged. Let it be fully impressed on the domestics,
that such things and such rules, you expect will be observed. The
fewer deviations, the more their comfort, as well as that of their supe-
riors, will be preserved. But it is from the breach of good order, the
non-performance of things necessary and expected to be done, that the
trials and exercise of temper and patience chiefly arise ; hence the vast
importance of self-command. A remark of Epictetus, a heathen mo-
ralist, just now occurs to me: ‘Begin to govern your passions in the
smallest things. Is your oil spilt,’ &c. ‘submit with patience, and say
to yourself, At this rate do I purchase tranquillity and constancy of
mind. Nothing good is acquired without labour. When you call your
servant, imagine he may be out of the way, or employed in something
you will not have him to do ; but do not make him so great as to have
it in his power to give you disturbance.” Were these the suggestions of
a heathen ; and shall a Christian, blessed with such a perfect system of
morals, called upon to be meek and lowely like his Master, promised
strength from above, equal to every exigence; shall he put himself in
the power of every little accident, and by it give his household reason
to question the sincerity of his religion ? Oh, forbid it, thou ever-present
646 MEMOIRS OF
Teity, who at all times takest cognizance of the actions of thy crea-
tures |
“Our tempers are chiefly exercised by an opposition to self-will; and
the more self-importance there is in the character, the more frequent
and the greater in degree will be the trial.
“It appears to me well to settle it in the mind, that daily trials may
or will arise ; trials known to God, and which may greatly tend to pro-
mote a spirit of watchfulness and self-acquaintance ; and from a pro-
per use of them, the Christian temper may become more established.
For this end, how needful, every morning, to pray for special grace to
keep me from manifesting any temper contrary to the Gospel, either by
hard or unkind speeches, or by suffering trifles wholly to engross that
mind which ought supremely to be fixed on heavenly things | The in-
dulgence of evil tempers “darkens evidences and clouds comforts.”
Most earnestly do I entreat of God a complete mastery over myself, that,
as far as I am concerned, my house may be a Bethel; that servants,
and all connected with me, may be constrained to admire the blessed-
ness and efficacy of true religion. What importance will then attach
to my admonitions ! How much greater will their respect be for a mis-
tress who has reason at her command, and enforces all by a spirit of
love I?’ sº
“Aug. 8, 1811. When I take a survey of my past life, from the pe-
riod reason began to operate, I can trace the guidance of an Almighty
hand, and can adore that wisdom and love which have made even
seeming hinderances a real help to the knowledge of himself. All my
domestic trials, the moral school in which I have been disciplined, will,
I hope, prove of continual benefit to me in future life. By being accus-
tomed to have my stubborn will and inclinations crossed, my motives
questioned, and my favourite schemes thwarted, a considerable mea-
sure of that self-will and self-importance so natural to me, has received
a powerful check; and as I shall shortly, with the permission of Hea-
ven, breathe in an atmosphere the most congenial to the sensibilities of
my nature, I trust I shall duly prize and affectionately return them.
“I feel the advantage of what I have suffered. I can bear opposi-
tion; and the natural independence of my mind, as far as it has been
extravagant, has been thus much subdued.
“It is probable, if I had been allowed time for the attainment of
knowledge in reading, &c. my inclination would have been less ardent
for it, nor should I have accustomed myself so fully to employ every mo-
ment. I have learnt to enjoy solitude. A love of books first inspired this;
and afterwards, a recollection of the little stories I had laid up in my mind,
tended exceedingly to make me enjoy my own company. An impor-
tant—acquisition this. I have never known what ennui means, from my
own experience. I have been taught too, to consider religion as nothing
worth unless its benign influences be shed on domestic life, by rectify-
ing the tempers, and “making the crooked paths of nature even.” We
must “by actions show our sins forgiven.” The restoration of the lost
image of God can mean nothing less than the implantation of the meek
and lowly mind of Jesus.”
Miss Hanson's marriage with Mr. Cooper took place on August 27,
1811, under the most favourable auspices. That the same principle
actuated her heart and her conduct after marriage, as before it, is well
MRS. COOPER, …” 647
*
known to all who had the privilege of her acquaintance. Owing to the
general indisposition under which she laboured after her marriage, she
suffered frequent depression of spirits; and this caused her to speak less
favourably of her religious state than she might have done. That she
suffered much from this cause, both in body and mind, her friends saw
with deep concern; but they indulged the hope that the hour was con-
tinually approaching, in which her wonted vigour of body and energy
of mind would be restored. In proportion to her strength, she was as
diligent, or more so, in all the means of grace, in the work of faith, pa-
tience of hope, and labours of love, after her marriage as before it.
The poor and the distressed, for whom, with incessant diligence, she
laboured till she died, could most forcibly tell the tale of her benevo-
lent exertions.
We add one more extract from the Diary, expressive of her feelings
at this period.
“ November 9, 1811. How necessary is it that God should remind
us of the dissolving nature of our earthly tabernacle ! When pain and
languor seize the body, then I practically feel the insufficiency of all the
temporal good I enjoy to make me happy. I regard every memento of
this sort as mercifully designed to wean my affections from the crea-
ture, and to make me feel that rest can only be found in heaven,_
in God. #.
“Since my marriage, I have certainly had a very large increase of
temporal peace and happiness; but, that I may not be exalted above
measure, my heavenly Father has mingled in this cup of sweets a few
unsavoury ingredients. My health has been far less uninterrupted than
before. -
‘Choice befits not our condition,
Acquiescence is the best.”
“If the Lord but visit me with the light of his countenance, and
make the season of indisposition a time for Divine communications,
how cheerfully will I embrace all He appoints I am sure he does all
in love ; and as I cannot let go the confidence I have that He is my
Father, so, I believe that He will pitifully weigh whatever chastisements
He sees fit to exercise me with.” &
As her time of trial drew near, Mrs. Cooper discovered great cheer-
fulness, and several times expressed her confidence that God would be
with her and support her. On the 16th of June, 1812, she became a
mother, and there appeared at first no ground for apprehension as to her
recovery. But in the evening after, dangerous symptoms manifested
themselves, and she herself felt persuaded that her end was approach-
ing; but it excited in her mind no alarm. On the 22d, by which time
little hope remaind, Mr. Cooper, after praying with her, said: “What
a mercy it is, my love, that we have a God to look to in all circumstan-
ces.” “Yes,” she replied, “ and I have not far to go : He is very near
to me.” At another time, she said: “I am very happy; I have no
fear.” This she afterwards repeated, and then cited that beautiful stanza
from Dr. Watts,
This life's a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world to which I go,
Hath joys substantial and sincere:
When shall I wake and find me there?”
648 - MEMOIRS OF MRS, COOPER.
To her husband, on his re-entering the room, she said: “Glory be to
God in the highest I have experienced a glorious elevation of mind.
It is all over.” In this strain of triumphant hope and gratitude, she
continued to express herself during the whole morning, dwelling on the
promises of God, and attesting his faithfulness. Nearly the last words
she uttered, were the following lines from Dr. Watts.
66 # flesh shall slumber in the ground,
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound:
Thenburst the chains with sweet surprise,
And in my Saviour's image rise.”
At length, about two o'clock in the afternoon of this day (June 22d,)
she expired, in the twenty-sixth year of her age.
_**
MR. S. F. R A N C E S WILSON.
MRs. WILson, the lady of William Rae Wilson, Esq. of Kelvin-
bank, Lanark, was daughter of J. Phillips, Esq., and was born in the
year 1785. As a child, her manners were pleasing and gentle; and
the sweetness of her disposition conciliated universal esteem. At the
age of nineteen, her religious principles seemed to have been fixed, and
piety became henceforth the predominant sentiment of her soul. She
now made a public profession of religion by joining the churches of Mr.
Wardlaw in Glasgow, and Mr. Innes of Edinburgh, when she had oc-
casion to be in these cities. This profession she evinced to be genuine
by the sanctity of heart and life which she eminently displayed; and
the elevation of mind and refinement of the affections thus produced in
her, evinced a sublime regeneration, which the Gospel can alone ac-
complish. Impressed with the infinite importance of Divine truth, she
ascertained its evidence by a careful and judicious examination, and
was thereby convinced of its paramount claims and sacred authority.
It was not long after such profession of Christianity, that it pleased
God to try her faith and patience by severe and long-continued afflic-
tion. During this season, she so eminently exemplified the influence
of Christian principles upon her temper and the whole tenor of her ac-
tions, that it is hoped some short account of her faith and patience may
be useful to others. Such was her deep humility, that nothing would
have been more revolting to her mind, than the idea that any thing
should be submitted to the inspection of the world, after her death, in
the way of panegyric upon her character. Of this sketch the object
is far different. It is not to praise the dead, but to improve the living.
It is to exhibit, in her history, the blessed effects of genuine Christian-
ity, to show what an amiable temper it formed, what benevolence it
inspired, and especially what support it imparted at that awful period
when every other source of support must vanish for ever.
It has often been justly observed, that there is no way in which we
can form a better estimate of the leading features of a person’s charac-
ter and of his prevailing tone of sentiment, than by his private letters. It
is when the feelings are thus poured with unsuspecting confidence into
the bosom of friendship, that the true state of the mind most distinctly
appears. We shall avail ourselves of this method of unfolding some of
the most prominent features in the character of the amiable subject of
this memoir.
The first extracts we give from her correspondence, were written a
few months after joining the church with which she was connected.—
They are contained in a letter to a Christian friend, and give a very
pleasing view of her frame of mind, soon after she made this public
profession of Christianity.
“We are again, my dear sister in the Lord, by Divine providence,
separated in body; but I trust we are joined in heart. and hope to meet
S2
650 MEMOIRS OF
again. When we are apart, it is comfortable that we are privileged to
converse with each other upon paper. Happy invention 1 May we do
it in faithfulness to each other, and in simplicity Andoh, that the cor-
respondence now begun, may tend to the glory of God, and our mutual
edification 1 May we be helpmates to each other, while we journey in
this wilderness, constantly keeping in view our arriving on that blessed
shore, where the redeemed of the Lord shall unite in one song of praise
to Him who sitteth on the throne for ever and ever, and who are repre-
sented in Scripture as a chosen generation. Let us remember, that, as
believers, we ought to show forth the praises of him who hath called
us out of darkness into his marvellous light : and to what a glorious
work are we thus called ! Oh, to be ever found walking in that path in
which we should go; to be leading a life of devotedness to the service
of the Most High; and praying for the influence of the Spirit, who alone
can guide us into all truth ! Let us press on to know the Lord, rejoic-
ing in his willingness to give to all who ask in the name of Jesus, even
of that Saviour who was made a little lower than the angels, that we,
through HIM, might have everlasting life.
“When the recollection of the long-suffering and goodness of God
towards such a guilty, polluted worm as I am, and the fulness that is
in Jesus, are by the Holy Ghost presented to my view, Divine things,
as it were, crowd into my mind. I am ready to cry out and say, Is
there any suffering to which I can be called in life, to which I would
not willingly and cheerfully submit O ! the love of God which passeth
all knowledge and that we may ever be able to say, Not my will, not
my will, Lord, but thine be done. Numerous are the blessings bestow-
ed upon me, and there is no room for murmuring on my part; but I
wish I had a heart full of gratitude to God, who is the giver of every
good. May we ever be satisfied that He doeth all things well, and
commit ourselves to Him, who is alone able to keep us from falling, and
to present us faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy.
“I trust that the trial experiences at present, will be much sanc-
tified to her, and that she is enabled to submit to the will of the Lord
with a becoming resignation and Christian fortitude. Whilst we tab-
ernacle here below, we must have tribulation. This is the believer’s
night; but let us rejoice in the prospect of an eternal day ; and then we
shall see it was good for us that we were afflicted. How trivial are my
afflictions, when I look around me, and behold those of others, and com-
pare them also with the sufferings of the primitive Christians ! I will
trust in the Lord, who is almighty to save : he is my strength, and the
rock of my salvation. He will not leave me, but, if he has begun the
good work in my heart, will carry it on unto perfection.” "
To the same friend when in a state of distress, she at a subsequent
period writes in terms strongly expressive of the tender interest she felt
in her situation.
“How happy should I be, were it the Lord’s will that I were near
you, to perform any office of kindness in my power, that sincere affection
would dictate; but, at present, it seems to be his pleasure that we should
be separate. I hope, however, we are still joined in heart, and believe
he doeth all things in unerring wisdom.
“I rejoice in the comfort and consolation you experience from those
beloved friends you mention, who are at present with you. Love is the
MRS. FRANCES WILSON. 651
first fruit of the Spirit; and oh that we may be abounding more and
more in affection one towards another, loving one another with a pure
heart ſervently, not in word only, but in deed and truth; and thus
evince to all around us, that we are the followers and disciples of the
Lord Jesus, and have received the truth in the love of it. Let not your
heart be troubled, my beloved sister in the Lord, but believe in God.
Trust in him for support in every time of need. Remember what an
apostle says, “ My God shall supply all your wants;’ and in this we
must include spiritual, temporal, and eternal. What a gracious promise
is this I feel a conviction that the Lord afflicts us in love; and though
it may not be joyous, but grievous, nevertheless it shall yield the peace-
able fruits of righteousness to all who are rightly exercised thereby.
Courage, my soul | for he says, I am with you ; be not dismayed, I
will never leave thee, nor forsake thee, but support thee with the right
hand of my righteousness.”
The deep sense entertained of her own unworthiness, together with
her gratitude to God for any measure of deliverance from affliction, she
in another letter expresses thus:
“Bless the Lord, O my soul! and all that is within me be stirred up
to bless and magnify his holy name ! I would desire to praise the Lord
for all his dealings towards me. Truly God is good, and it is no vain
thing to wait upon the Lord, whether in sickness or in health. He is
the unchangeable Jehovah, with whom there is no variableness or sha-
dow of turning, but the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. He hath
seen meet to afflict me; though he hath not dealt with me after my
iniquities nor rewarded me according to my transgressions. But blessed,
ever blessed be his holy world, which informs me, He doeth all things
well. He scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. There is a need-be
for this affliction; and may I have the sanctified use of it, that I may grow
in love to the Lord, and serve him better than formerly 1 May I be in-
creasingly alive and spiritually minded, daily more and more crucified to
the world, and the world to me; counting all things but loss, yea, but as
dung, that I may win Christ and be found in him, not having mine own
righteousness which is of the law, but that which is through the faith
of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith. * * * * * * *
“Let us see that we cast no stumbling-block in the way of believers,
or of the world; and supplicate the assistance of the Holy Spirit, to
walk so as to adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour. It is, indeed, a
certain truth, that our religious knowledge will be of no further use to
ourselves, than as it elevates our affections to heavenly things, meliorates
our tempers, and rectifies our conduct.”
Her deep impression of the evil of sin, in connexion with the view she
entertained of the ground of hope revealed in the Gospel, is well repre-
sented in the following extract.
“You think, my dear friend, more highly of me than I deserve—De-
serve, did I say ? What does this bring to my mind What do I de-,
serve at the hand of an infinitely holy God, but eternal death'ſ for Scrip-
ture declares, that whosoever offendeth in one point, is guilty of all. But
it is of grace, free unmerited grace, I am what I am.—Justly have you
said, Were our sins but for one hour to be marked against us, we must
inevitably perish; for in all things we offend, and come short. But
glory to God in the highest, for that peace proclaimed on earth, and
652 MEMOIRs of
good-will towards men How transporting the thought to poor, guilty,
self-ruined creatures, that while we were yet sinners, in due time
Christ died for us ! What a matchless display of infinite love And
now being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord
Jesus Christ, by whom also we have access, by faith, into this grace
wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Yes! the
work of redemption is complete. Our blessed Lord says, “It is finished tº
and Jehovah declares himself satisfied by saying, ‘This is my beloved
Son, in whom I am well pleased ; hear ye him.” O the boundless love
of God 1 Truly may we add, it passeth knowledge. May we then pre-
sent our bodies a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is
our reasonable service; and may the love of Christ constrain us not to
live to ourselves, but to the praise and glory of him who has brought us
out of darkness into his marvellouslight. Blessed Father, accept usin'the
Beloved as we are, and make us just what thou wouldest have us to be.
“Christ is the sure foundation stone,
Our Prophet, Priest, and King:
Sav’d by his sov’reign grace alone,
This grace I’ll only sing.” -
Again, when at a distance from home, in writing to a Christian friend,
she expresses herself thus :
“Wherever I am, may I ever be found doing the will of our blessed
Lord and Master, walking in the path of duty, making progress in Di-
vine knowledge, and growing in conformity to his image. But, alas !
how little do the things of an eternal world occupy my thoughts I
fear, those of time engross me too much. How prone am I to depart from
the Fountain of living waters 1
“In the present state, we often meet with interruptions; but there is
a time when, I trust, we shall be inseparably united in serving our gra-
cious God, without interruption, for ever and ever. On that ever
blessed period may our eyes and expectation be unalterably fixed. That
happy state we may look back upon as our own, freely given unto us, in
consideration of his dear Son’s precious propitiation. O blessed Re-
deemer of wretched, ruined creatures, how unspeakable are the obliga-
tions that I am under to thee l But oh how insensible am I of these
obligations ! I sincerely trust that the Lord, who withholdeth no good
thing from them that love him, is daily teaching me the weakness and
insufficiency of myself, the depravity of my own nature, and more and
more of the deceitfulness and desperate wickedness of my own heart.
But rejoice with me, and give thanks to God on my behalf, that while he
thus shows me my own nothingness, he isgraciously pleased not to with-
hold from me that he hath laid help upon one that is mighty, that he
hath ſound a ransom, and that whosoever cometh unto him through
Christ, he will in no wise cast out. Herein only is love, not that we loved
him, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for us.
“How rich and how free is the grace of my God!
How glorious the pardon he bought with his blood!
From Jesus' atonement my confidence springs,
And my heart leaps for joy while of mercy it sings:
The conquest which Jesus on Calvary won,
When there he declar'd the great work to be done,
Is that which gives comfort and peace to my soul,
When viewing transgressions so great and so foul.”
MRS. FRANCES WILSON. 653
“From what my own feelings dictate towards you all, I can readily
believe you have a wish to see me, and know what progress I make in
the Divine life. O that the Lord would direct us, write all his blessed
laws in our hearts, and teach us his statutes, that we, abounding in
good works, may be devoted wholly to his service, and cry unto him,
‘My Father, thou art the guide of my youth ! Behold we come unto
thee, for thou art the Lord our God! Truly in vain is salvation hoped
from the hills and from the multitude of mountains: truly in the Lord
our God is the salvation of Israel! May I glorify him in body and
spirit, which are his : submit to his will ; not live unto myself, but un-
to the praise of him who is God over all, blessed for ever; and resign
myself into his hands, saying, Lord, here I am, do with me what
seemeth good in thy sight. --
“Three of our church friends have finished their course, and I trust,
have fallen asleep in Jesus. How interesting the prospect of leaving
a world of sorrow, sin, and pain, to those who have believed in the
name of the Lord Jesus ! May then ‘all seek and find every good in
Jesus joined.” Well, indeed, may the believer exult in the near view of
death, when received as a passage into the joy of the Lord.—Think,
O think, of being for ever with the Lord l” To a Christian friend in
whom she was much interested, she thus writes from Edinburgh, in
reference to her anxiety to be kept from the allurements of the world.
“This is a gay season here, in consequence of the races. But I de-
sire to look up to the Lord, who, I rejoice to know, is all-sufficient to
fortify me against every temptation to which I am exposed; and may
he grant that each of us may be enabled in our several duties to act as
becometh the followers of the Lord Jesus, and grow more and more in
conformity to his blessed image 1 May our speech be with grace, sea-
soned with salt ; and may we be ready to give to every one that asketh
a reason of the hope that is in us, while we evince by our walk and .
conversation that we are not our own, but bought with a price. O
Lord, do thou pour out abundantly upon us thy blessed Spirit ! May
we hate sin and every evil way, and prefer being door-keepers in the
house of our God, to dwelling in the tents of wickedness.
“You ask with the tenderest affection, my beloved sister in the Lord,
how I am in point of health. I am still under the afflicting hand of my
heavenly Father, but not scourged to that extent which I so justly de-
serve. You see how long a rebuke I have required. But though he
slay me, yet will I trust in him. Bless the Lord, O my soul 1 and all
that is within me be stirred up to magnify his holy name ! What shall
I do in order to proclaim thy praise My God, to thee alone do I com-
mit myself Eye hath not seen, nor the heart conceived, what thou
hast prepared for those who love thee.”
Further; the anxiety of Mrs. Wilson to know the will of God, and to
follow it unbiassed by the opinions of men, is thus expressed in a letter
in reference to some point on which she found some Christians had en-
tertained different sentiments.
“I could wish to hear the matter stated on both sides, and afterwards
examine the word of God for myself. I do not wish to be biassed by
any human persuasion, but to take the word of God for the only rule of
my conduct : and surely we cannot expect abiding comfort, unless we
be fully persuaded in our own minds. O that the ever blessed and
654 MEMOIRS OF
Holy Spirit would take of the things of Christ, and show them unto us,
that we may know what the will of the Lord is in all things ſ”
The very correct view which Miss Phillips entertained of the danger of
every sentiment tending to palliate the evil of sin, is well stated in the
following extract. * 4,
“The transcript you sent from the letter of , could not, I think,
be any way edifying to , for whom I am unable to express what I
feel. It is not, in my humble opinion, calculated to be useful either to the
soul or the body of any fellow-sufferer. Take, for instance, the follow-
ing remark :—‘The errors of were, I trust, more of the head than
the heart.” This is unquestionably highly pernicious. We no where,
in the inspired volume, find any apology made for sin, or the most dis-
tant hint given, that the heart is inactive in any act of wickedness.
How different an account does the Spirit of God give of us in the pro-
phecies of Isaiah, as well as in other places:—‘Ah ! sinful nation ; a
people laden with iniquity: the whole head is sick, the whole heart is
faint ; from the sole of the foot unto the head, there is no soundness in
it, but wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores.” And many other
passages might be mentioned to prove, that while in an unregenerate
state, we run on in sin with the full bent of our hearts, and roll it as a
sweet morsel under our tongue. And since we are assured that one
transgression merits eternal death, what awful ignorance does it mani-
fest of the character of God, to build any hopes of finding acceptance
with the infinitely holy Jehovah, on reformation, even if it were effect-
ed, and obedience were now springing from the right source Have we
not cause to hang down our heads, to blush, and be ashamed of our
many short-comings | But blessed, ever blessed be God that though
we have, by sin, excluded ourselves from the Divine favour, rendered
ourselves obnoxious in his sight, and we are thus self-ruined, hell-de-
serving creatures; he hath in his matchless wisdom, unparalleled love,
great power and amazing condescension, devised a method of reconcilia-
tion 1 Joyful tidings | Let us bless the Lord, that we ever heard the
joyful sound, “He so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting
life ;’ and ‘whosoever cometh unto him by Christ Jesus shall in nowise
be cast out.” May the Holy Spirit, the only effectual Teacher, take daily
of the things of Christ, and show them unto our souls, which are of in-
finitely more value than ten thousand worlds.
“Christianity is not selfish. All who have received the truth in the
love of it, are solicitous for the welfare of others, and wish them to par-
ticipate in the joys of salvation. Yes | it is the believer’s heart’s de-
sire, that the name of Jesus may sound from pole to pole, and reach from
shore to shore ; that God may be glorified, and man saved. And
that you may ever be found active in the service of the Most High,
growing in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ, and in conformity to his image, is the fervent suppli-
cation of,” &c.
On the vanity of worldly possessions in comparison with the immortal
soul, Miss Phillips writes thus to a friend :
“May we be convinced of the uncertainty of all earthly possessions,
which are, at best, unsatisfying; such things never being an adequate
portion to the immortal spirit in man, and seeing, at all events, our con-
MRS. FRANCES WILSON. 655
nexion with them must shortly for ever terminate. While riches take to
themselves wings and fly away, may we be led to seek and find Christ
the true riches; and then we shall humbly acquiesce in every loss, and
be ready to say, The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away, and blessed be
the name of the Lord. A saving knowledge of the truth as it is in Christ
Jesus, produces a peace of mind, a serenity of heart, that worlds cannot
give, and cannot take away, and is calculated to support us even under
the utmost pressure of affliction, of whatever nature that affliction may
be. But alas ! my great ignorance prevents me saying what I could
wish on this subject, and what is calculated to yield true joy and
gladness of heart. Lord, enlighten the eyes of my darkened under-
standing more and more ; open thou wide my lips, and I will speak to
thy praise.”
The concern which this pious lady manifested for the salvation of a
particular individual, is feelingly conveyed in the following letter :
“The wish you express to hear from me, gives rise to too delightful
sensations in my breast for me longer to defer attempting to comply.
For nearly three weeks I had no idea that ever I should again address
you.
“It is a serious thing to die To enter into an Eternity, either of
endless bliss, or endless woe One of these, each individual must very
soon look into. Revelation informs us, the latter is our due, having
brought it upon ourselves by violating the Divine law. Death, yes,
eternal death, is the wages of sin; and all have sinned: consequently,
all by nature are under the awful sentence of condemnation. How un-
speakably precious then ought the gift of God to be to us, which is eter-
nal life through our Lord Jesus Christ ! there being no other name un-
der heaven whereby we can possibly be saved, but the name of Jesus;
and whosoever believeth on him shall not perish, but have life everlas-
ting.
#These truths have hitherto supported my mind, when every thing
else in this world could not possibly be of any avail, though surrounded
with whatever things were calculated to give me comfort; and my
solicitude for your welfare, prompts me to recommend them strongly to
your most serious consideration. Say not to me, as you have often
done, ‘Let every one get to heaven their own way.” Believe me, my
friend, that heaven stands like a little mark in a wide field, where there
are a thousand ways to missit, but one to hit it. But, ah although God
hath said, there is but one sacrifice by which we are perfected, one
blood by which we may be purified, and one name only by which we
can be saved; yet, how hardly are the best drawn to trust perfectly to
the grace revealed, and to look from themselves, and up to Christ, as
the Author and Finisher of their blessedness Seeing, therefore, our
heavenly Father hath made the whole progress of salvation to be in
Christ, election to be in him, adoption to be in him, justification to be in
him, sanctification to be in him, and also glorification ; grant, that
whatsoever others do, my friend may never choose the light of reason,
but that of the Sun of righteousness, to guide his feet into the paths
of life I’”
In another communication to the same person, she thus expresses
herself:
“To what else can I ascribe this change for the better in my health,
656 MEMOIRS OF
than to divine power, which, indeed, is as manifest in every moment of
our preservation, as in our creation. But, alas ! my friend, how little
do we, sinful mortals, contemplate that character, the perfections of that
adorable Being, who is Lord over all, blessed for ever; who holds the
reins of this vast universe in his hands, weighing the stupendous moun-
tains in scales, and the hills in a balance; saying to the sea, ‘Hitherto
thou shalt go, and no further;’ and from whom alone cometh down
every good and perfect gift, and on whom alone we are totally depend-
ent What an evidence of our own depravity Were he to deal with
us according to our sin, how could we stand 4 We may attempt to ex-
cuse ourselves by saying, we are not so bad as many of our neighbours,
and our sins are not so flagrant, &c. But all such attempts are entirely
in vain. The verdict is passed, and we are left to bare conjecture
what it is. The Scriptures inform us that ‘ the soul that sinneth must
die;’ and again,’ Whosoever offendeth in one point, is guilty of all.”
Thus we see, that departure from the revealed will of God in one sin-
gle instance (and where, I would ask, is the person who has not done
this 4) merits damnation. Awful damnation It hovers every day and
night over the heads of those who have not fled to the peace-speaking
blood of Jesus Christ, who came to save the souls of men from ever-
lasting woe, and gave himself a ransom for many. Yes, my friend,
it is indeed a faithful saying, that Christ Jesus came into the world
to save sinners; and salvation is not to be found in any other.
“Let us then see that we lay hold on this foundation, and on this
hope set before us in the Gospel of the blessed Redeemer, who holds
out this most gracious invitation : ‘Come unto me all ye ends of the
earth, and ye shall be saved ;’ ‘Whosoever believeth on me, shall not
see death’—that is, eternal death—‘ but shall have life everlasting.”
So that we may rest assured, ‘religion never was designed to make
our pleasure less; but, on the contrary, we remain strangers to true
and substantial happiness, until we embrace the faith of Jesus Christ.
The genuine effect of all this is, to subdue our evil passions, to elevate
our affections to things above, to meliorate our tempers, to rectify the
whole deportment, and to glorify our heavenly Father in our bodies
and spirits, which are his.”
To a young lady who had recently embraced the faith of Jesus
Christ, Miss Phillips thus writes in answer to a letter she had received:
“I am truly pleased to think you have received so much edification
from the worthy pastor, and that he has been so instrumental in convey-
ing Divine impressions ; also, to observe the sentiments you express
on moral and devotional duties. The gratification which these impor-
tant considerations convey to my mind, is beyond what I can express.
But to God all the praise is due. May you, my dear , ever be
under a serious and proper frame of mind, and love and worship your
Creator with all your heart and strength ! Fervently pray for a personal
interest in the redeeming work of Jesus Christ, and for the powerful
inspiration of his Holy Spirit; and may it teach you to walk in the paths
of righteousness. By a preservation of this frame, you will find a peace
of mind through life, that the world cannot afford ; moreover, an inex-
pressible comfort and consolation at the hour of death, and an eternity
of happiness beyond the grave.
“Your love to the great Creator of all, ought to be paramount to the
MRS. FRANCES WILSON. 657
consideration of every other object, in the view of the infinite obliga-
tions you are under to Him for life, breath, and every mercy ; but,
above all, for sending his dear and well-beloved Son into this world to
redeem it, and his gracious declaration, that those who believe on him,
should not perish, but enjoy that life which is everlasting.
“May I hope, then, you will improve more and more in this train of
contemplating the Divine character. Show yourself to be a true child
of God, by your life and conversation ; and remember, you are bought
with a precious price. Make yourself also intimately acquainted with
that blessed volume which proclaims the glad tidings of salvation ;
and by a steady and patient continuing in well-doing, seek for glory,
honour, and immortality ; and always delight in the law of God after
the inner man. Mark, also, one consideration, and which must never
be lost sight of, namely, that all this is not of yourself; for you can do
nothing in your own strength without the influence of the Spirit, which
is of God alone. Observe, that it is “ by grace alone ye are saved,
through faith.” It is “ the gift of God.” Further, in prosecution of this
path, it is highly necessary that you should be much engaged in prayer;
and in that way, all your desires and requests fail not to make known
unto God ; and it will be of great service, that you associate, converse,
and take the assistance of genuine believers in Christ, who can in-
struct and edify you. I have only further to say, that I shall be glad
to hear of the further progress you make under the influence of Divine
teaching ; and I hope the eyes of your understanding will be more and
more enlightened, that you may know what is the hope of his calling,
and the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints, besides the
greatness of his power to those who believe in him. May you, in fine,
my friend, have his covenant of life and of peace established in your
heart, and be a partaker of that redemption which is treasured up in the
Lord Jesus.”
To a friend who wished to remove unfavourable sentiments which
she had entertained of an individual in matters respecting religion, she
writes thus: -
“It is with heartſelt satisfaction I learn from you, that I have been
mistaken as to I have, undoubtedly, had much pleasure in con-
sulting with her, and have received benefit from former conversation.
But our difference of sentiment on essentials and the one thing that is
needful, if it has not eradicated, seems to lessen that intimacy. But
let me hope for better days. The hearts of all are in the hands of the
Lord, and it is his Spirit which alone convinceth the world of sin and of
righteousness. I pray Almighty God, that, if consistent with his will,
he would convince , and all who may yet be ignorant of the true
God, of the exceeding evil of sin, and of the indispensable necessity
of reading the Scriptures for themselves, in them are contained the
words of eternal life, and of the awful danger of neglecting or despising
that great salvation which is in Christ Jesus; since the Scriptures de-
clare that there is no other name given among men by which we can be
saved. What amazing love does Jehovah manifest to the guilty, sinful,
self-ruined sons of men, in making known to us not only his ability,
but his willingness to save All, however aggravated their sins may
have been, are invited to come to him through Christ Jesus, who con-
descended to take upon himself our nature, and came into this world to
83
658 MEMOIRS OF
seek and to rescue those who were lost, the Lamb of God, whose blood
cleanseth from all sin. O, my dear friend, that we may not be found
refusing to listen to the proclamation of mercy and his gracious invita-
tions : * Come unto me, all the ends of the earth, and be ye saved.”
* Incline your ear and come unto me; hear, and your souls shall live.”
Turn unto the Lord, and he will have mercy ; and to our God, and he
will abundantly pardon.' * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“O, beloved friend, that each of us may be enabled seriously to lay to
heart these truths, remembering the shortness of time, the importance
of eternity, and the precious nature of an immortal soul, which is of
infinitely more importance than thousands of worlds.
“I rejoice in the comfort and consolation you experience from the
friends you mention, who are already around you. ‘Love is the first-
fruits of the Spirit;’ and that we may be abounding more and more in
love one toward another, loving one another with a pure heart fervently,
not in word only, but in deed and in truth, thus evincing to all around
that we indeed have received the truth in the love of it, is my ardent
prayer. Love is the criterion of our discipleship ; and “by this shall all
men know,” says the blessed Jesus, ‘ that ye are mine.”
“ I did hear of the death of —. Alas! he has been cut down
in the meridian of life, and now lives to die no more. What shall I say
at such an interesting crisis as this " Weep not 7 Dry up your tears 7
Ah my dear friend, my own feelings will not permit me. I am aware,
nature must and will feel such a thunderbolt-shock I Ought not daily
experience to teach all of us, how precarious and transient all terrestrial
possessions are Soon, yes, soon shall we also be called to go the way
of all the earth, and enter on an etermity of inexpressible happiness, or
of 'endless woe. There it will be found of no avail, whether our situa-
tion in this life has been prosperous or adverse, exalted or otherwise; for
what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own
immortal soul '! O my friend, that we may be able to look beyond
transitory things, and fix our supreme affections on the glories which are
within the veil, of the most lasting duration and satisfying nature ; and
in the present life, cleave to the blood and righteousness of Christ, as
the foundation of a sinner's hope for acceptance with God! “ The Rock
of Salvation is solidity itself.’”
The present transcripts contain a very distinct representation of the
views which this pious young lady entertained of some of the leading
doctrines of Divine truth, and of the concern she felt for the eternal sal-
vation of others. But what is the design of introducing them in the
present marative It is to show what those principles were, which, in
their practical operation, produced all those amiable dispositions, that
serenity of mind and Christian deportment, which were so eminently
exemplified in her character, both in the single and in the married state,
in health and in sickness, and which particularly inspired that holy
composure in the prospect of dissolution, which so eminently adorned
the concluding period of her sojourning on this earth. This leads us to
remark, that it was chiefly in the school of affliction, that the distin-
guished virtues which adorned this child of God, were reared and form-
ed. A'disease, painful andlingering, and which at length proved mortal,
infested 'a considerable part of the valuable life which she spent on
earth; but, by the comfºrts which the Gospel of Christ is calculated to
MRS. FRANCES WILSON. 659
afford, the pangs of disease were alleviated, and its protracted pressure
was softened by Christian resignation. In this severe struggle, she
exercised a remarkably striking patience; and mildness endeared those
features which disease had invaded. Cheered by the animating pros-
pect which faith discloses, and resting her salvation on the merit and
sacrifice of her adorable Redeemer, she found herself equal to the last
conflict, and fearlessly beheld the yawnings of the grave In the sick-
ening moments of distress, she informed the Rev. Mr. Innes, of Edin-
burgh, who had uniformly paid a marked attention to her, that she felt
herself so ill, she thought she could not have survived a quarter of an
hour; but she added: “I have found that when every thing else had
failed, the glorious Gospel of Christ was able to support my soul.” “I
was much struck,” observed this gentleman, in a letter to one of his
friends, “in my interview with her at this solemn period, at the tone of
dignified composure, approaching to triumph, with which she testified
this fact in her own experience; and she seemed to rest upon it as a truth,
to her, at least, established by the most incontestable evidence, that in
that Gospel she could find a refuge in the darkest hour of trial and alarm
that could possibly assail her here below.” e
Some time after this, Miss Phillips's health was so far restored, that,
in April 1811, she was married to William Rae Wilson, Esq. of Kelvin-
bank. In the early part of her married life, her health appeared to im-
prove ; but a preternatural affection of the heart, the incurable disease
which had affected her, soon returned with increasing virulence, not-
withstanding the first medical assistance had been afforded, and she
had been removed to England, and other parts, for a change of climate.
In November 1811, she became materially worse. During the following
year (1812) she experienced, alternately, severe attacks of the disorder
under which she laboured, and intervals of comparative ease. Her
Christian friends who had an opportunity of conversing with her during
this period, were much struck with her remarkable composure of mind
and patient resignation under protracted acute distress. Repeatedly, in
the course of these conversations, she expressed to them that inestima-
bly precious consolation which the Gospel of Christ had imparted to her
soul. But as the winter approached, her complaints assumed a more
alarming aspect ; it was found that all medical assistance was utterly
unavailing, and her case was pronounced altogether hopeless. When
the fatal opinion which had been pronounced was made known to her,
(in her happy state of mind, indeed, there was no inducement to con-
ceal it,) she received it with a marked composure. Her language was
uniformly that of a deep sense of her own unworthiness, gratitude to
God for all his past goodness, submission to his will, and an anxious
wish that she might not to be tempted to be impatient, but be enabled
to bear, with becoming resignation, all the affliction with which she
might be visited. For a considerable time, indeed, previous to this, she
had contemplated her dissolution, not only without the slightest alarm,
but, on the contrary, with a certain holy joy, in the prospect, as she
said, of her soul being admitted to a place in the New Jerusalem. On
this occasion, she offered up a most fervent prayer, and uttered solemn
and devout ejaculations in the presence of those around her, which
proved that the prospect of death gave her no alarm. To her Christian
friends she imparted much instruction, affectionately admonishing them
660 MEMOIRS OF
to walk steadily in the fear of the Lord, to cleave to the righteousness
of Christ as the only foundation of their hope, and to take his holy word
as the rule of their conduct; and she, in the strongest manner, pressed
upon all who were permitted to visit her, the importance, not only of
reading, but of studying the word of God, in the subsequent part of their
lives, as it would afford the only solid ground of comfort in the hour of
trial.
To this purpose she further delivered most affectionate addresses to her
domestics and attendants. Tenderly alive, also, to the interests of those
friends who were absent, she sent most affectionate advices, when
hardly in a situation to articulate a word.
At one time, after symptoms of mortification appeared in one of her
limbs, when an attendant was undressing her, she pointed to the
wound, looking up with holy awe and reverence, and in a most impres-
sive manner exclaimed, “Ah look at sin P' thus showing how much
she was accustomed to trace all her sufferings to that source from
which, according to the testimony of Scripture, they are represented
to flow.
Although her sufferings were most acute and heart-rending to those
around, yet, not a murmur was heard, and her countenance strikingly
exhibited more than resignation to the Divine will. It was expressive
of a heavenly tranquillity, satisfaction, and delight in God. While the
disease was making rapid progress, and her dissolution approaching, she
expressed a wish to hear that beautiful hymn read which begins with
these words:
“Save me, O God! because the floods
Break in upon my soul,” &c.
She then sung that well-known hymn of Cowper, “God moves in
a mysterious way,” &c.; and another, beginning with the following
words : “The hour of my departure’s come !” Others of similar im-
port she repeated, and was heard repeatedly to exclaim, “Courage,
my soul!”
On the 11th of November, the night previous to her departure from
this valley of tears, one of her Christian friends having come to pass the
night with her, she received her with much affection, and said, she was
glad she had come to spend the last night with her which she had to
remain in this world. She strongly expressed her gratitude to God for
all the support she had experienced under her protracted affliction, her
conviction that it was intended for some wise purpose, and her desire
that his will might be done. When it was remarked to her, that her
patience under distress might be the means of leading some poor soul to
the knowledge of the Saviour, taking her friend by the hand, with a
look of tenderness which cannot be forgotten, she said, with all the emo-
tion of which her enfeebled frame was then susceptible, “If I thought so,
how willingly would I suffer all this trouble over again l’” She seemed
as if she would have added more. Under the very severe distress which
she then endured, it is not easy to conceive of more ardent expressions
of love to souls, than what is contained in this short sentence. .
She then expressed a wish that her husband should read to her the
17th chapter of the Gospel by John, and a psalm : he read the 23d, at
MRS. FRANCES WILSON. 661
which she appeared to be greatly delighted. Prayer was then offered
up in her behalf; in which, by her looks and the motions of her hands,
she appeared to join with the greatest fervour. This was particularly
observable when there was an allusion made to her near prospect of
entering on “the inheritance of the saints in light,” and spending an
eternity in that place, “ where there is fulness of joy and pleasures for
evermore.” The expression of her countenance, and the way and man-
ner in which she marked her assent to these last words by lifting up her
hands, were particularly and strikingly impressive.
A little wine and water being offered to her, she said; “Ah I do you
wish to detain me ! I am happy and willing to go to the Saviour, and
that will be a great deal better.” Looking at her husband, she asked
him if he thought her friend wished to detain her; when he replied,
she was only offering her a cordial for her comfort, and that we should
be willing to use those blessings which Providence had put in our power.
She immediately said, “I shall take it, then ; but I fear she is wishing
to detain me, and I am happy and willing to go ; and the only feeling
of regret I have at leaving this world, is on your account, my dear hus-
band. But I hope the Lord will support you, and guide you by his coun-
sel, and we shall meet on that happy shore.”
She then attempted to sing that beautiful hymn, “ The hour of my
departure’s come ;” and though incapable, from her weakness, to go on
regularly, she occasionally sung a line, as she found herself able. While
thus engaged, she suddenly stopped short, and, to appearance, her spirit
had departed, when, all at once, with a clear and most distinct voice,
she said, “I am waiting for the coming of Christ ! Jesus has done
much for me. I look forward with joy to the time when I shall meet
him in the New Jerusalem. Yes! the Lamb that is in the midst of the
throne shall feed me, and lead me to living fountains of water.” Then
looking at those around, she said, “In that New Jerusalem I hope to
meet you all.”
Another portion of Scripture was then read to her, which she heard
attentively. The day was now beginning to dawn, and she desired
the window-shutters to be thrown open, which was done, as she was
anxious to see the light, since the Lord had spared her to another day.
She observed, (and language would in vain endeavour fully to portray
the solemn and deeply-impressive scene,) that while we beheld the light
of the natural sun, we ought to recollect that they only are happy, on
whose souls the “ Sun of righteousness shines.” At this time, from
being so weak, she could say little more.
In this happy frame, though under an accumulation of bodily suffer-
ings, she continued all the next day, till, at seven o’clock in the evening
of Thursday the 12th of November, 1812, her spirit left this world, to
join that innumerable multitude before the throne above, who have
washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
She was in the twenty-seventh year of her age. Her mortal remains
were conveyed from Edinburgh to Glasgow, and deposited in her hus-
band’s tomb. A train of clergymen and friends attended, to pay the
last tribute of their affectionate regard to departed worth and excellence.
MR. S. E. C. L. O U TT.
MRs. CLouTT was descended, on the maternal side, from a family in
the principality of Wales, the heads of which had for upwards of a
century sustained the office of Christian ministers. They were distin-
guished for talents, benevolence, and piety. The Rev. Thomas Evans
was one of the ministers ejected in 1662, and died about the period of the
Revolution of 1688. His eldest son, Caleb, succeeded him, filling his
father's situation with reputation for a long series of years. He died
in 1739, at an advanced age, leaving two sons of the names of Hugh
and Caleb. Hugh, a man of talents and learning, was the much es-
teemed pastor of a flourishing congregation of Particular Baptists at
Broadmead, Bristol, for nearly half a century, dying there in the year
1781. His son, the Rev. Dr. Caleb Evans, who had been his assistant,
and a very popular preacher, filled up his place, both in the Church,
and in the Baptist Academy of which he was President. He died in
1791, deeply regretted by a large circle of connexions. The other broth-
er of Hugh Evans was the Rev. Caleb Evans, who had never any per-
manent settlement as minister, but was constantly employed in the ed-
ucation of youth to the time of his death, in Bristol, 1790, having reach-
ed a very advanced period in life. His second daughter, Hannah, was
the mother of Mrs. Cloutt. She married Mr. Arthur Tozer, son of Mr.
Tozer, of Maudbury, Devon, by whom she had several children; but Mrs.
C. alone survived her. Mrs. Tozer was, from her earliest years, re-
markable for her natural good sense and unaffected piety. It was
thought, that she seriously injured her health by sitting up late to read.
Her constitution was always delicate; and, after marriage, the anxiety
necessarily attending a rapidly increasing offspring, probably accelerated
her dissolution. A consumption seized her, and brought her to an early
grave. She died in the faith and hope of the Gospel. This emphatic
sentence, uttered by her in her last illness, was, by her express desire,
inscribed on her tomb, “I know I shall arise.” Her daughter, the sub-
ject of this memoir, though only five years old at her decease, severely
felt her loss. She much resembled her mother in her early thirst for
knowledge, her eager and incessant researches after truth, the warmth
of her benevolence, and the ardour of her piety. She spoke of her in
terms of high admiration, and with feelings not to be described, anti-
º the exquisite pleasure to be enjoyed on their reunion in a better
world.
The following memoir will consist chiefly of extracts from Miss
Tozer's own papers, interspersed with a very few reflections from the
individual who has collected these fragments that they may not be lost.
In her correspondence and Diary may be traced her progressive improve-
ment in human and Divine knowledge, and the formation of her cha-
racter, till it arrived at that degree of maturity which her heavenly
MRS. CLouTT. 663
Father deemed requisite for her removal to the abode and society of the
spirits of the just made perfect, in the celestial mansions prepared for
them at his own right hand. If more extracts from her letters are in-
serted in this sketch, than are essential to the display of the power and
influence of religion on her mind, it is with the hope that the age at
which they were written, the variety of useful hints and instructions
they contain, and the reflections they are calculated to excite, will
make them interesting and beneficial to our young female readers.
The following letter was written when she was only in her fifteenth
year; it will show how much her mind was exercised on religious sub-
jects, even at this early period:
“Sunday, Oct. 1792.
“My DEAREST ELIZA
“I am now seated by myself, as the family are gone to meeting;
and though I do not approve of writing on this day, yet I think it may
be more profitable to me at present than reading. I do assure you,
your last letter gave me more pleasure than you may be aware of Our
friendship has hitherto been a common, not a particular one : we have
exchanged letters, but in neither of them have we made one another
acquainted with any thing that I call worth knowing ; that is, with
the state of each other’s minds. But in your last you have opened the
door, which I was afraid to do. I am sometimes almost driven to des-
pair about eternal things. You cannot tell what I suffer. I do not under-
stand the doctrine of redemption. We are told that by one man sin
came into the world, and that we have a natural propensity to sin, and
indeed our own consciences tell us so ; that there is not a just man on
the earth that doeth good and sinneth not : then the thought that oc-
curs, is, that as we are born in sin, it is as natural for us to sin as it is for
us to eat; that it seems severe that we should go into eternal punish-
ment; and that the death of Oh! my dear, I tremble while I write,
to think that dust and ashes like myself should dare to contend with
my Maker. I cannot write a quarter of my thoughts : I want you to
talk to. I heard, a few Sundays ago, a sermon encouraging to prayer ;
and we are toid, “If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God.” But,
alas ! my prayers are an abomination to the Lord ; for, directly I have
done, I fall into sin.”
“It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth.” Miss
Tozer had already been visited with personal suffering, her health
being extremely delicate. She was now, in her seventeenth year,
called to sustain the loss of some of her nearest relatives, at an age
when she was capable of feeling most sensibly the pangs of separation
from them. August the 4th, 1794, she thus writes to the same friend:
“My DEAREST ELIZA t f º r
“I hardly know what to say for myself, in excuse for my seem-
ing neglect ; but, my dear girl, believe me, I love you better than ever
for not condemning me before you heard my defence; and though cir-
cumstances appear against me, I hope I can convince you, that neither
ingratitude, nor want of affection, was the cause of my silence. My
last letter, I believe, was dated from Charmouth. About three weeks
664 MEMOIRS OF
after I wrote to you, we returned to Bristol. I have lost four relations;
a mother,” grandmother, uncle, and mamma’s father. * * * * * * * I
assure you, my dearest Eliza, my time is pretty well taken up; for I
am but a giddy girl to have the care of four children, the eldest not
nine years old, and the youngest just two.
“Your account of Miss S.’s death quite surprised me; so sudden and
short a warning, how awfull I have had a recent instance in the
death of my grandmamma. She was seized with a pleurisy on Friday,
and died the Wednesday following. I went to see her the day she
died, and it put me in mind of good old Jacob dying with his children
around him. She was sitting up in bed with all her children about
her, (except an uncle, living in Dorsetshire, who could not receive the
intelligence till it was too late,) praying for and talking to them. She
had devoted herself to God ever since the thirteenth year of her age,
and ‘exulted,’ to use her own words, “ that she had almost finished her
pilgrimage.” She told my aunt, who sat up with her, that she believed
it could not be much longer; and so it proved, for about an hour after,
she expired without a sigh or a groan. Mamma died that day week,
and was supposed to be dying when grandmannma was taken ill; so that
for three or four days, papa walked from one dying bed to another, from
his wife to his mother, and his mother to his wife. Oh ! my dear, it
was a trying time, and what none can tell but those who have felt it.
Grandmamma was seventy-five, and but the Monday before she was
seized, walked to our house, which is a good distance, and up a very
steep hill, to see mamma. She was as upright as I am, and could read
and work as well, and always while my aunt worked in the evenings,
she would read to her.
“But, my dear, I am entertaining you with my own concerns.”
1797. Ætat. 19. In the spring of this year she was visited with a
severe illness, which it was feared would prove fatal. During her af-
fliction her mind was serene and happy. On her recovery she thus
writes to her friend: “I believe, my dearest friend, I have not written
to you since my recovery from an alarming fit of illness, in which I was
brought to the borders of eternity. A violent inflammation of the
lungs, which my apothecary supposed would terminate in a consump-
tion : however, a gracious God was pleased to check it, and, to the sur-
prise of all my friends, I now enjoy as good a state of health as I have
done at any period before ; but you know my constitution is never ro-
bust. O that the unworthy life he has spared may be devoted entirely
to him l’”
The extracts which follow are collected from her Diary of this
period.
“October 16. Faith is ascertained, by Jesus Christ himself, to be
a patient, resolute, invincible trust in him for relief, upon the grace
which we know dwells in him, notwithstanding the greatest discour-
agements to trust any longer. Witness the Canaanitish woman,
the centurion, &c. That sin must be of the vilest nature, is ascer-
tained by the greatness of the sacrifice for it. The God of heaven and
earth, by whom all things were created that are in heaven and earth,
visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or principalities, or pow-
ers, all things were created by him, and for him, and he is before all
* Her mother-in-law.
MRS. CLOUTT. - 665
things, and by him all things consist. This Being, who, when he was
born into the world as a little child, was proclaimed by the angels to
be a Saviour, Christ the Lord, this Being submitted to be called a
blasphemer, to be treated with the greatest ignominy by mortals whom
he had himself created—suffered the absence of God—Amazing
thought ! that God should suffer the absence of Himself I That this
Saviour should invite me freely to trust in him, and that I should dis-
believe him 1 O blindness in the extreme ! Strange insensibility
Such as can be expected only from a base, degenerate creature Great
God do thou break the stony heart 1 Give me a heart of flesh. Re-
move this unbelief from my soul; and, notwithstanding this stupidity
of soul, receive me, and make me what thou wouldst have me to be,
for thy great name’s sake.”—
“ 25. After some very serious thoughts on the nature of religion,
they seem to be resolved simply into this: If religion is true, and its
consequences real, it absolutely requires that every thing should be
given up to it. Is it worthy of my belief ? If so, it must be worth
every thing. It must be the chief, the only pursuit that I value. It
must be as much more important as its nature and duration are superior
to every thing else. O thou God of my life I wilt thou deign to
listen to the prayers of a little worm whom thou hast created 4 Only
bring me to know thee, and lead me to place my sole happiness in thee.
O forbid that I should give thee only half my heart | O wilt thou seize
it all—make every power of my soul to be employed on thee I O rouse
my stupid, dead, inactive soul ; make it truly alive 1 O grant me
faith in the great Redeemer, and give me to see that I am justly and
inevitably lost without him.”
“29. I trust I have, as far as I know my own soul, sought my God
in sincerity and earnestness of heart, with tears and supplications, to
discover my real state to me this evening : if I am his child, to discover
it to me; and if I am not, to suffer me not to let this evening pass without
setting me earnestly and zealously to seek to become so; —not to suffer
my passions to deceive me, nor to pass too favourable a judgment on
myself, but to show me to myself as I really am. Blessed Jesus ! thou
didst heal the blind when thou wast on this earth. I would desire to
cast myself at thy feet this night, earnestly praying thee to open my
blind eyes, to discover my sin to me, to show me that I deserve everlast-
ing punishment, and to reveal thyself to me as my gracious Saviour.
Hear my poor petitions; let me not depart without a blessing. Remove
the secret infidelity of my soul; and, oh, grant that I may indeed know
thee, for thy great name’s sake. O grant that I may not use this name
as a form only, but that I may indeed feel it as for thy name only, and
that, were I to use my own name, I should justly deserve thy curse,
not thy blessing.
“‘ Every soul that is renewed and sanctified, doth place his chief
happiness in God.” Dost thou truly account it thy chief happiness to
enjoy the Lord in glory ! Canst thou say, the Lord is thy portion ?
Though the world and flesh will be creeping in, yet, in thy ordinary,
settled, prevailing judgment and affections, preferrest thou God before
all things in the world ! O Lord God, thou knowest my heart, all its
secret springs and windings; let me not deceive myself in this important
question, but O do thou guide my hand to write only the truth ! Lord,
84
666 * MEMOIRS OF
I trust thou knowest that I desire thee above all and every thing in this
world; and that, though my flesh may shrink, yet, I would desire thee
to deprive me of every earthly comfort, if, in possessing them, I cannot
know thee. Grant me but thy presence, and take all that the world
can bestow. Its pleasures must be inferior to thee, as the Creator is
superior to the creature.
“‘Thou makest him the very end of thy desires and endeavours.” O
Lord there my heart shrinks back from the test. Do I make thee the
end of my desires and endeavours! Oh, thou knowest how easily my
heart is betrayed from thee, how often I doubt even of all religion,
the truth of thy word, almost of thy existence. But, O my God | I trust
I desire from my inmost soul to make thee my chief happiness, the end
and aim of all my wishes, hopes, and fears.”
“ 31st. O Lord, my Creator, I trust that I shall for ever, to all eter-
nity, praise thee for the comforts I have experienced these two last
days. Indeed, in waiting on thee there is great reward : the wealth of
kingdoms, the whole world is less than nothing to it. , O Lord, as thou
hast, graciously to encourage me, granted me to experience the pleasure
of thy ways, enable me to persevere to the end. Thou alone knowest
my treachery, ingratitude, and unbelief, and that, if thou keepest not
my heart, it will, notwithstanding the mercies it has received from thee,
desert thee the source of all good, and take up its rest with straws and
dust.”
“November 2. A remarkable encouragement this morning to resist
temptation to indulgence and indolence. My thoughts were very dis-
sipated, and my attention seemed incapable of fixing to any thing sub-
stantial. I was very cold,” and a good fire in the music-room, and no
one being there, tempted me to go down. I said, what can prevent 7
I can take Baxter, and read as attentively there as here. Yet, my mind
could not thoroughly approve of it, and I determined to read one chap-
ter of “The Saints' Rest,” and then, if I continued in the same resolu-
tion, I would go. But, after finishing it, (the importance of leading a
heavenly life on earth,) I was less allured by the fire, and felt a secret
satisfaction that I had not yielded. O may I never again be tempted
to slight these inestimable duties, because I cannot at first feel the plea-
sure of them 1 O my God, of what madness am I guilty Keep my
treacherous heart, I beseech thee; let it not be deceived with the false
shadows that fly before it. O let it not be so weak and blind as to leave
thy pleasures for deceitful phantoms l’”
“Nov. 28. In contemplating the works of God, how is it that my
ardour is not raised to contemplate the great Author'ſ My powers
long to soar among the planetary worlds, to know more of the mysteries
of mature; to take a peep out of this little planet among the vast
regions of space; to know what other inhabitants there are in the uni-
verse, whether their intellectual faculties resemble ours; and a thousand
other circumstances, which the great Creator has not thought fit to dis-
cover to us. I take delight in these, and yet do not let them raise in me
a desire to know their Creator.
“Rose this morning at five o’clock; could not be retired, as Miss E.
*Notwithstanding the delicate state of her health, it appears, from the memorandums in
her Diary, that she generally rose at five o'clock or a little after, in the winter, as well as in
the summer season.
MRS. CLOUTT. 667
was with me, but read Fletcher on ‘the Corrupt State of Mankind.”
My heart was making many excuses for not retiring afterwards, by say-
ing, that I had spent an hour and a half in reading about religion,
though it knew that my heart was not affected. Drew after breakfast;
and when I came up stairs, took Ferguson’s Astronomy; was strongly
inclined to read that first, which would have driven the other off, because
I know that, if I have the resolution to leave off, yet, it occupies my
mind more than the duties in which I am engaged. I was parleying
with the temptation, but light seemed to break in upon my mind, and
I was struck with my inconsistency—with the thought, that the Being
who had created these wonders, should give me a picture of Himself
suited to my capacity, should assure me that I should shortly be admitted
to a more perfect knowledge of him, should be an inhabitant of some part
of his creation very different from this, where I should experience the in-
finite pleasure and privilege of knowing him, of being assured of his most
tender regards, and being made to resemble Himself. Great God l is
this true, or is it a dream |
“ 1798. Sunday, Feb. 24. Read the first chapter of John, on the
divinity, &c. of Christ; my mind lost in astonishment at the amazing
mystery of redemption ; had some very delightful thoughts on it, and
did, I trust, with real earnestness and many tears, implore God to unite
my soul to him, and keep me near him to reveal himself unto me. My
mind was lost in considering what I was attempting to do; addressing
the great God of heaven and earth, the Creator of all things “All
things were made by him.” The sun was just sinking behind a cloud,
nearly the time of its setting, when I read this verse. I said, Is this
true, or is it a lie ' If it be true, I must believe that Jesus Christ made
that glorious sun, those clouds, all nature that I see around me, and
also those immense systems of worlds which we just peep into. As-
tonishing thought ! Here, unbelief strongly pervades my mind. If it
be a lie, then the whole of the Scriptures are false, and I am involved
in the blackness of darkness. O that God would chase the clouds
that envelope my soul | that he would shine through them, and speak
comfort to me !
“ April 19. The state of my mind has been so various and so intri-
cate, that I have rejected writing, as it seems a task beyond my powers
to express it. I can only say, that I am in a state of continual amaze-
ment. Is there any truth in religion 1 &c. &c. Miserable state in-
deed Received a letter from my uncle, Isaac Tozer, in answer to one
I wrote to him : I had much consolation and satisfaction from it. I seem-
ed at ease in a measure about my state ; felt delight and gratitude
towards God, a desire to have my soul entirely conformed and devoted
to him ; in a word, happy. But this pleasant state of mind is vanished
before I am aware, and I again find myself involved in doubt and dark-
ness, particularly respecting the truth of Christianity, &c. The direc-
tion of Dr. Watts, which afforded me peace, and in a degree quieted my
mind the other day, now presents itself to me, and in some measure has
the same effect; that too much time must not be spent on infinities and
unknowables, and on those things for the investigation whereof we are
not furnished with proper faculties in the present state. What is requir-
ed of me now 4 Only to see the hateful, vile nature of sin, and to love
and possess, in as great a measure as defilement is capable of, holiness or
668 MEMOIRS OF
purity. With whatever intricacies it may be attended, or rather, how-
ever incapable the human mind is of understanding every part of it,
does not this evince that it springs not from man The end of it is so
superior to him, and is nothing less than perfection ; it must there-
fore be from God. Can I indulge these doubts immediately after read-
ing the Scriptures I think not. Then it seems as though I could
say firmly it is the word of God alone—In reading the Life of Miss
Anthony, I am strengthened in the resolution of doing what I had
before determined, of devoting a particular day for fasting and prayer,
that God would be pleased to grant me Divine illumination.”
During the greater part of the remainder of the present year, her
mind appears to have been frequently in great darkness and distress,
arising chiefly from temptations to disbelieve the authenticity and truth
of the Scriptures; but, by studying their evidences, united with constant
prayer for instruction, we shall, at length, behold her doubts removed,
and her conviction of their veracity and excellence fully established.
In this season of trial and fear, often approaching to despondency, she
continued in secret to seek the Lord. In her Diary, we find her adopt-
ing at this period Mr. Williams's (of Kidderminster) form of dedicating
himself to God, to which she signs her name: it is dated June 29, 1798.
In the same manner she adopted a number of resolutions, some selected
from the memoirs of others, and some of her own formation ; but after-
wards, she desisted from this practice, finding it a burden on her mind,
owing to the frequent breaking of them, or the idea she entertained that
she should not keep them. We proceed to give some further extracts.
“1798. July 25.-Never was a heart more backward to duty than
mine this morning ; yet, I persevered, and add this instance to the
many others I have had, of the pleasure, as well as profit, of retirement.
Learnt the first chapter of John. I
“Aug. 8.—What can have occasioned the great alteration in my
mind for these two or three days I think I never felt more steadfast
reliance on God, not even when I was ill. It seemed as though I could
really say, Thou art my God and Saviour. Surely it was happiness far
greater and more solid than I ever experienced. I was in amazement
at myself. Could it be a delusion ? I felt a kind of appropriating faith
that could say, that God was my Saviour. My belief in the Scriptures
seemed quite unmixed with those doubts that harass my soul. My
great fear of enthusiasm makes me afraid lest it should be a delusion.
Yet this I cannot deny, that I never so sensibly felt happiness in my life;
and that it flowed from my feeling a reliance on the truth of God, and
some hope that I felt what his children do. If false, surely it is more
wonderful.
“19.—This last week I have had peculiar reason to be thankful, not
only for being preserved in travelling, but also for a peculiarly happy
state of mind. I must think I felt firm reliance and hope in God, and
happiness in the hope of his favour; and I was the more satisfied that
this was not a delusion, because I think I never more earnestly desired
to be conformed to him. My soul overflowed with gratitude and love
to him. Attended the Moravian chapel in the morning. Religion
seemed to be.cherished there with sincerity and simplicity.
“Oct. 20.-Some very important and interesting conversation be-
tween Mr. B–, son of the Hon. Mrs. B–, and Miss C. T–n, respect-
MRS. CLOUTT. 669
ing Christianity. Had some very solemn thoughts from his conversa-
tion. . He seems another strong proof of the veracity of Christianity,
and of the striving of the Spirit of God in the mind of man. A man
who has plunged into every excess of fashionable dissipation, and who
is still in the midst of gay life, acknowledges that he has thought of
religion from a child; that, though he now enjoys the pleasures of life,
yet, at no time, were he asked, could he say that he is happy; that he
has wished to be a Deist, and has searched the evidences of Christianity,
but finds they are incontestable. With what earnestness did he say to
me, ‘It is of no importance whether you are happy or miserable here ;
the thing is, shall you be happy hereafter P The important things he
said to me, had they come from a religious man, would not have enforc-
ed themselves so much on my mind. But here is a man who does not
profess to be religious, who says it is his understanding, and not his
heart, which is affected; who talks to me one moment as a light fash-
ionable man, with all the trivial compliments which might be expected
from such a one, and the next, urges the importance of religion, and the
folly of every thing else, from a conviction he cannot resist, though
he has not strength to practise what he knows to be right.”
It may not improper or useless to introduce in this place an extract
from a letter to her friend, Miss D–, dated July 25, 1799, containing
some very just reflections on the traits most desirable to be found in the
female character.
“I cannot approve of your addressing me as one so superior to your-
self; it really alloys the pleasure I should otherwise receive from your
letters. I have seriously examined myself, to find out what qualities I
possess, that could possibly give you a pretext for it, and I find, that you
are not describing me, but some being whom your imagination has
painted with every thing excellent.
“Have you read Miss More's Strictures? I have heard it highly spoken
of, as calculated to correct the absurdities frequently committed in edu-
cating girls with an extravagant taste for the fine arts, at the expense of
their domestic character. Indeed, I sometimes feel almost inclined to ex-
cuse the men in their censures of learned ladies, when we see mothers of
families that are slatterns, bad managers, &c. I have thought more of
this subject lately, from an instance which has come within my own
knowledge, of a lady who has several children, who spends her time
in writing and in attempting to improve mankind, while her house is
in disorder, and her own children neglected. I think such characters
do us a far greater injury, than the poor domestic drudge whose mind
never soars beyond the making of a pudding or a pie. Of the two ex-
tremes, I hardly know which I should prefer ; but we may easily de-
termine which would be most calculated to promote the interest and
happiness of her family, which, in proportion as a woman effects, she
must be, I think, a more or less honourable character.”
We now return to her Diary.
“ 1799. July 28. The greatest efforts are necessary to keep my
mind vigorous enough to perform the business allotted to me in this
world; and yet, what have I to depress me ! The great Being who
created me, has given me a revelation of his will. I am examining
the evidences of its truth, and hitherto they are perfectly satisfactory.
I have then only to make it the great rule of action, and I shall be cer-
670 º MEMOIRS OF
tain that I am right. Surely this seems a plain path. I desire to do
this above every other wish, and I am now searching. What then can
distress me in religion ? God is merciful : he knoweth our frame, he
remembereth that we are but dust. He has assured us, that he will
teach those that ask him ; let me endeavour always to keep this in
view, and not represent him to my imagination as a partial Being,
capable of the imperfections of man. Oh,' that my mind were unbi-
assed by prejudice, that I might learn simply by using the means he
has appointed, with the assistance of his enlightening Spirit which he
has promised I have learnt much by this journey. I have seen
Christians who ornament religion by their amiable mildness and cheer-
fulness. I have lost, in some degree, that dark, gloomy, narrow view
of it which I had contracted. O for a knowledge of the truth, and an
inclination to obey it !” •
“ 1801. March 20.—Since the preceding, I have gained much
knowledge of the historical part of the Bible.* I am now going to be-
gin reading it for instruction ; have given up drawing, reading, &c. and
intend to continue it, till I have read it through once more, so as to gain
instruction from it. Oh, may I complete it ! May my life be spared,
first, to know the will of God, and then to do it ! Much more comfort-
able than this time twelvemonth.”
“1802. Feb. 9th. Beautiful, holy religion purify, refine the mind,
and raise it to its Maker | A very pleasant, placid morning. I feel I
long to have intercourse with some good people who have trodden the
path before me, and who can hear of my faults with pity and sympathy,
from having themselves experienced somewhat the same. Christ does:
* he knows our feeble frame,’ &c. I was much struck, and for a moment
lost as it were in delight, at the tender kindness of God. He knoweth
we have need of these things, little temporal comforts; remembereth we
are dust, &c.”
“10th. Intend seriously to practise Mason's Self-knowledge. At
first, the difficulty seemed insurmountable ; I knew not where to begin.
It consists in acquaintance with seventeen things: when I once know
them, it will be easy to recall them to my mind once a month, and go
over them. How important is order in all our business I’’
“March 1. Recovered to life as it were again this morning : read
the third and fourth Psalm. In York, all bustle. Read a paper of Mr.
Addison’s yesterday on the pleasures of heaven, necessity of variety for
the human mind, &c. O may I be kept near to God . “ Thy favour is
life, and thy loving kindness is better than life: lift thou upon me the
light of thy countenance.”
*Few persons, perhaps, searched the Scriptures with more diligence and constancy than
Mrs. Cloutt. In addition to the proofs of this, which are to be found in her Diary, and in her
quarto and small Bible, which abound with them, she abridged the whole of the Old and
New Testaments, with the History of the Jews, between the period of the conclusion of the
former, and the commencement of the latter. This, in the manner she performed it, was a
work of º labour and utility. It occupies 306 closely written quarto pages. When she
completed it, does not appear; but it was probable in the year 1801, as in Aug. 1800, she
makes this memorandum : “Finished the Abridgement of the Jewish and Christian History.”
This was followed by an Abridgement of Newton on the Prophecies, and a Common-place
of Scriptures on the most important articles of religion and Christianity, on a plan similar to
that recommended to students in divinity by Dr. Campbell, in his Lectures on Ecclesiastical
History. Mrs. C. has also left behind her, four other quarto volumes of extracts and abridge-
ments from various authors.
MRS. CLOUTT. 671
“April 7. Mount Pleasant. Going to-day to Scarborough. What
abundant reason for gratitude. This place has, on the whole, surely
been a Mount Pleasant. The acquaintance of Mr. Murray and Miss
Percival the chief pleasures; also the Miss Hills. What satisfying
pleasure in the society and esteem of good minds ! O may I enjoy the
society of heaven ſ”
We shall here close the extracts from the Diary of Mrs. C., the re-
mainder being written for the most part in pencil and short hand; and
what relates to the progressive state of her mind, will be sufficiently
apparent from the following extracts from her letters. We shall begin
with some to her kind and excellent friend, Mr. Murray, to whom she
always expressed herself under the deepest obligations for the literary
and religious advice he gave her, during a correspondence which com-
menced about this period, and terminated only with her life.
“Mount Pleasant. April 7, 1802. On my return to York, I could
not forbear shedding some luxurious tears in reflecting, that if the plea-
sure from the society of virtuous minds here, where it is at best imperfect,
and subject to many clogs, embarrassments of conversation, &c. is so
great, what must it be in heaven, where these obstacles will be removed,
and our spirits will have free intercourse, divested of every shadow of
impurity or imperfection The expression, “ The spirits of just men
made perfect,” dwelt much on my mind. Mr. and Mrs. M-y’s
kind affability set me quite at ease. I never once felt embarrassed at
having taken such a liberty,” nor did it occur to me till I sat down to
reflect on what I had done. But were I to express what I feel, it might
perhaps have the air of flattery, which from me, I am aware, would be as
ridiculous as it is in itself sinful.
“Had I not feared a still greater intrusion, I should have esteemed
it a very great privilege to have benefited more by Mr. M y’s con-
versation. Indeed, I left it with the greatest regret; especially on con-
sidering it was an advantage that might never more be enjoyed. In
nothing am I more deeply sensible of my own deficiency, than in the
manner of instructing young people in religion, from about fourteen
years old, to the age of eighteen or nineteen. A dry, preceptive man-
ner disgusts them ; nor, indeed, would I wish to enforce any opinion of
my own ; but simply, as Mrs. Trimmer recommends, to put them in a
way to form their own opinions, and settle their judgments from the sa-
cred Scriptures. Though the first principles of religion in my own
mind, I can trace back to the instructions of a valued mother, whom I
lost at five years old ; and after this, I made a point of reading the
Scriptures, as most young people do, because they think it a kind of
duty that ought to be performed ; yet, I must acknowledge, that the
pleasure I receive from this invaluable book is exceedingly increased,
since I have been able to relish the beauties of style. For the first rudi-
ments of this taste, and perhaps, for directing me to the Bible as an ob-
ject of taste, by the frequent allusions to it, I am indebted to Mr. Mur-
ray’s excellent grammar. Afterwards, in reading Dr. Blair’s Lectures,
especially that on Hebrew Poetry, I began to take pleasure in it as a
composition. This led me to perceive beauties to which before I was an
:* º refers to the circumstance of her introducing herself (till then a stranger) to Mr. and
Mrs. y.
672 MEMOIRS OF
entire stranger; and the delight I have since had, has been increased
in reading Melmoth on the sublime and beautiful of Scripture; Bishop
Lowth's translation of Isaiah; Arch-deacon Paley, &c. As I can trace
to this source the pleasure, and I think instruction, I myself receive,
(since it has led me to consider the sentiments and enter into the spirit
of the writers,) I have endeavoured insensibly to direct the taste of young
people to this object, by exemplifying the figures of speech from the
Scriptures; turning to the beautiful examples of allegory, metaphor, &c.
given in the appendix to the grammar ; giving them an account of the
author, time of writing, style and subject of most of the books; making
them acquainted with the historical part ; the pure morality which ex-
tends to the motives, &c. But this is, I feel, in many cases a very in-
sufficient mode ; it requires time and perseverence, which few young
people at this age possess. And even if the taste be sufficiently culti-
wated, they may admire the composition, and go no further. I say to
myself, it is absured to suppose this cultivation necessary, or that we
must have taste in order to become a Christian. The generality of
people cannot be induced by these motives, and its influence must be
quite independent of them.”
* Mount Pleasant, May 3. I am sensibly affected with Mr. M °s
great kindness and benevolence, and would wish to express in proper
terms of respect and gratitude, my sincere acknowledgments: indeed,
I feel the obligation, and know thoroughly how to appreciate its value.
His letter will ever be preserved by me as a very valuable treasure, and
I hope no part of it will be unattended to.
“Would Mr. Murray excuse my making myself so much the object
of this letter, I should feel a satisfaction in laying before him the state
of my own mind with respect to religion. No plea can I possibly use to
justify this, but that of the relief we experience from intercourse with
good and superior minds, and the confidence with which his condescen-
sion has inspired me.
“About six years ago, my mind became exceedingly perplexed and
distressed respecting the doctrines of religion, the justice of God, &c.,
and afterwards the truth of revelation. I heard these subjects very freely
canvassed, and on both sides by persons whom I very highly esteem,
and of superior understandings. The religion of the one party, who
are Calvinists, I could not receive ; and the sentiments of the other led
only to doubt and dismay. This perplexed and unhappy state continu-
ed nearly three years, and I had no friend who was in every respect
qualified to relieve me. I cannot say that I ever really disbelieved the
Scriptures: the impression of very early instruction, the examples of
some very near and valued friends who had died, and the habitual ven-
eration I felt (though perhaps without knowing why) for the Bible,
could not be erased; and, indeed, my mind was not capable of enter-
ing into the arguments on either side, and had not strength enough to
be decided. One sentence, in particular, among many others, interest-
ed me exceedingly. I have hately searched for it, but in vain: * the
sentiment is, that after finding so much diversity and inconsistency in
the different systems of religion, the individual betook himself wholly
to the Scriptures. I felt a sympathy with this person, and longed to
* It is probably in the Life of Locke, in Murray's “Power of Religion on the Mind.”
MRS. CLOUTT. 673
know who he was. At length I came to a determination, carefully
and as far as my powers admitted, to inquire into the proofs of the au-
thenticity of this Divine book; and if they were satisfactory, to endea-
vour to understand it, and make it, as far as I could, the rule of my life.
My mind suggested that I ought, at least in a matter that was profes-
sedly of such vast importance, to have substantial and incontrovertible
reasons for rejecting it. I read Paley's Evidences of Christianity, and
some other works on the style and nature of the Scriptures: then the
historical part; the connexion between the Jewish and Christian dis-
pensations ; Newton on the Prophecies; and a Short Account of the
History of Christianity, from its Commencement to the present Time,
by Dr. Gregory, in two volumes. . The Bible appeared to me like a new
book; and the solid peace and delight I have received from it, and
which, I hope, is still increasing, far exceed in reality any derived from
any other sources. But I am quite undecided as to most of those doc-
trines which are in general so much spoken of; and were my system of
faith required, I could not tell what to say; nor is there any sect or
denomination of Christians with whom I ſeel I could class myself. The
reflection that, notwithstanding all the wickedness that prevails in the
world, God himself is pure, and that all this is totally abhorrent to his
nature; that, notwithstanding this impurity, he will receive us into his
favour, without any degradation of his own character; and that he
commiserates our weakness, and will assist all those who sincerely de-
sire it; brings a consolation to my mind that I never before felt: it appears
sublime and beautiful. How it could be consistent with his nature that
evil should ever exist,-how his justice is manifested in laying the sins
of the world on the head of the innocent, &c. and some other things
equally mysterious,—I cannot at all comprehend; but it does not make
me unhappy, because it seems consistent there should be many things
in his government which our limited capacities cannot understand. I
am perplexed respecting the ability of man, when I contemplate the sub-
ject; but when I appeal to my own feelings, it appears plain, and I feel
a guilt in acting wrong, which does not allow me to hesitate whether I
had a power to forbear or not ; and yet, at the same time, I am irresolu-
tion itself. I am sensible of a thousand deficiencies which are hidden
from the eyes of others; particularly irreverence in addressing the
Supreme Being. And though I am conscious of wickedness in all this,
yet it does not make me humble, and seems more like an imperfection
of my nature, than a voluntary deviation from right. These seem
very strange inconsistencies, and yet I am not distressed. I feel satis-
fied, if I am at all acquainted with my own heart, it is my first wish to
be a Christian. I admire the amiableness and dignity of the character,
and truly venerate virtuous characters. Mr. M. will be sensible how
much I stood in need of teaching, while I was instructing others. In
what I have said, I hope nothing has the appearance of self-conse-
quence: if it has, it is the furthest from my mind; though neither
would I affect a humility I do not feel. &
“What Mr. M. has said respecting the education of young persons,
has almost raised in my mind a wish to resume an employment I had
fully determined to resign. The part I have hitherto taken in a school,
has been a very retired one; merely the instruction, without interfering in
the general management: it was a situation every way suited to my
674 MEMOIRS OF
inclination. I had the society of very amiable young people, and the
pleasure of instructing them, without any other anxiety; but, as cir-
cumstances afterwards necessarily required me to take a more active
part, the state of my health and spirits obliged me at length entirely to
relinquish it.
“I have frequently thought, that, had I an independent fortune, I
would set up a school; or could I afford to deviate from the general
plan : but as it is usually conducted, I cannot help thinking it almost
contemptible. &
“I am very much obliged to Mr. M. for the books he was so kind as
to mention. Dr. Beattie and Mr. Gisborne I have never seen, but shall
get them ; I am very much satisfied to have his approbation of the
others. Before we left York, I procured the tenth edition of The Power
of Religion on the Mind ; but this will not prevent my accepting his
very obliging offer, because any present from him I should highly prize;
and it will also give me an opportunity of making a very valuable present
to some one else. #
“I fear I have not sufficiently expressed the sense I entertain of Mr.
M.'s great condescension and kindness, and the value I set on his in-
structions. I would rather use too few expressions than too many,
though it was not possible in this case that I should express more than
I feel. *
“I beg my respectful remembrance to Mrs. M., and hope she has
recovered from her indisposition. I remain, with the greatest esteem
and respect, Mr. and Mrs. M.'s truly obliged
* E. TozR.R. *
“Northampton, Sept. 1804. What can I say to my dear and valued
friends, for the interest they so kindly take in my welfare 4. My heart
overflows with gratitude and affection towards them ; this is indeed
true : and I sometimes have pleasure in reflecting, that, as the friend-
ship I entertain for them arose from the best principles, it cannot par-
take of the instability it might otherwise have done. -
“As my friend desires a particular account of the school, I shall
ebey him without hesitation, or making an apology, which would other-
wise be necessary. As to the plan, we rise at six ; each young person
makes her own bed, arranges her little affairs, clothes, &c. and is in the
school-room at seven. They all write, or do some exercises, until half
after seven, while I settle my domestic affairs in the kitchen. From
that time till eight we all assemble, and I read some portion of the Scrip-
tures. I find a book written by Mr. Warner, of Bath, very useful,
entitled Diatessaron. From eight to nine, breakfast and take a run in
the garden ; or, if the weather will not allow of it, some exercise with-
in doors; nine to twelve, exercises of the school ; twelve to one, eat a
peace of bread and butter, dress, and take a walk; one to three, in the
school again ; three, dine ; and in the afternoon prepare the exercises for
the following day, and take another walk. Each of the young folks takes
it by turns, every week, to keep the keys, make the breakfast, &c. and
attend to any little domestic affair that may be requisite. And I am hap-
py in saying, I have been able to unite an attention to these little con-
cerns with their intellectual improvement, as much, and even more,
than I at first supposed a plan of this kind would allow.
* - MRS. CLOUTT. - 675
“The first half-year I had eight; and now, the number would have
been exactly filled, had I not refused two who were not desirable, pre-
vented the return of one, and lost one, who left me to be placed in a
situation near London, where her friends had lately removed. We are
now exactly eight in number again. In a pecuniary respect, I find it
has rather more than cleared the expenses. I know not what to say to
my friend as to its continuance. . It is an employment I highly approve;
but my father, whose situation is easy, though not affluent, has rather
yielded to me than promoted it, and is more anxious than I was at first
aware of, to have me with him. Perhaps I ought not to conceal from
so valued a friend, (though the uncertainty of such events makes me
reluctant to mention it,) that it is not improbable, some time hence, that
I may enter into a connexion, on which the happiness or misery of m
future life will greatly depend. I feel happy in saying that, should this
ever take place, the character is such as my friend would approve.—
I need not say, that when my friend has leisure, I shall receive a letter
with thankfulness; for to hear of his and Mrs. M-'s welfare, and to
receive the assurances of their friendship, is at all times a source
of the most lively pleasure to their sincere and affectionate friend,
“ E. T.”
The person to whom Miss Tozer referred in the above letter, was the
Rev. T. Cloutt, who had been educated with a view to the exercise of
the ministry, but, in consequence of ill health, had been obliged to re-
linquish his intended profession. Soon after this period, he resumed it,
and is since settled in London. The following letters were addressed to
that gentleman, about this time. *
“Northampton, Nov. 30. Your good letter I received to-day, my
dear friend: I have been prevented from replying to it earlier. It is
now too late for the post; yet, I feel a pleasure in answering it to-day.
Every state of your mind, and the different stages of your feelings, I can
enter into, and account for. They appear to me perfectly consistent,
though perhaps to you an inconsistency. I may perhaps understand
you better, from having had my own mind, and now having it exer.
cised much in the same way, though as you know, from a different
Ca.UIS6. –
“Your objections would appear to me to have weight, (I esteem you
for them all my dearest friend,) if you intended to engage as a regu-
lar, stated minister over a people, for whom you would then be respon-
sible as a shepherd for his flock; but I think they lose their importance
upon your present plan, that of rendering your tribute of assistance as
circumstances will allow, but not as a professed shepherd, or, at most,
only over a few straggling sheep, and thus not supplanting a better one.
Shall I take each of your objections as they lie º To the first I hardly
know how to reply. Our views of the essential requisites in a Christian
minister, may differ; and as I am unacquainted with you in this capa-
city, it would be absurd in me to compliment you, were I capable of
judging. But I may say, that those who do know you, do not entertain
exactly the same opinion as yourself, or they would not be solicitous
for your continuance. And you must allow, my dear friend, that what-
ever are your qualifications, your feelings on this head are proper, what
676 MEMOIRS OF
you would wish; for we could hardly esteem the man who thought
himself superior, or even equal to such an employment. Of the origin
or authority of the Christian ministry, how far the present mode of ex-
ercising that function is agreeable to the will of Christ, &c. I am un-
informed: it is a subject I should like to inquire into. But the requisites
essential to one who undertakes to instruct others, are to my own mind
obvious. His great and only object, to which every other pursuit must
be subservient, must be, to understand thoroughly the Holy Scriptures.
To this end he must have much general information,- History, Geo-
graphy, Ancient Customs, &c. &c.; the Jewish History, History of the
Christian Church, &c.; an acquaintance with the language in which
these sacred books were written; if not, an acquaintance with grammar,
to trace the connexion of passages, allow for the idiom, &c.; and a
candid, investigating mind, to compare the best translations; an ac-
quaintance with the manner in which these sacred books are handed
down to us, to make proper allowance for the injuries they may have
received, &c. &c.; a generally liberal education, yet, with the mind
directed to one point. He must experience the heavenly influence of
this religion, producing its natural effect in making his character resem-
ble Christ, that, like him, he may teach by his example, as well as by
precept. He ought, besides, to have a happy method of communicating
this knowledge, to inform the understanding, and at the same time to
influence the will and the passions, so as to produce the same effects
upon the minds of others that he experiences himself. I have given you,
my dear friend, a more minute description than I intended; but you will
excuse me. You will remember, I give you my view only; you will add
to it, or differ from me, without reserve.
“To the second objection I should say, I think, my dear friend, you
judge more by your present feelings then by the prevailing desires of
your mind. The unsettled, and, in one sense, dissipated state you have
for some months been in, naturally tends (unless we were differently
constituted) to distract the mind; but that its rooted principle and main
object is the same, I myself entertain no doubt. Your desire to con-
tinue this employment shows it. The reasons that induced you to
relinquish it were conscientious. It cannot be emolument you seek.
What motive have you, then, for wishing to continue it, or had you at
first for engaging in it !
“The third objection (as the Christian world is, at present, divided
into parties, and attaching so much importance to their respective tenets,)
appears to me the most likely to affect your freedom and comfort in
preaching. One must, (as you once remarked to me,) for one’s own
peace, take the name of a party, and then you are required to defend
the tenets of that party. And as a minister, you are more confined,
and make a kind of agreement, I was going to say, that, as your ac-
quaintance with the Scriptures increases, which it must be supposed to
do, your views of it shall always be the same ; since, if they differ, the
bond of union between a minister and his people is broken, and he is con-
sidered as an apostate. It appears to me hardly possible for a spirit truly
Christian to do this, since it supposes a young man of perhaps twenty, to
possess all the knowledge of the Christian religion he ever can have ;
to speak strongly, that he is as wise as he ever can, or will be. A poor
consolation 1 But this objection, my dearest friend, which I acknow-
MRS. CLOUTT. 677
ledge strikes me as the greatest, both as to its effects on yourself and
your hearers, is considerable lessened by not feeling yourself in the con-
fined situation we have mentioned.—You will consider all I have said
as applicable to a teacher, not a private Christian ; and know enough
of me, I think, to be satisfied that I do not connect learning and religion
together, as necessarily united : far from it. I have not room to tell you
that I am interested in your perplexities of another kind. The reason
you gave for not writing, was the very one that should have induced
you to write. Perhaps it was vanity that led me to think that each of
my letters merited a reply : be that as it may, I somehow expected
one,—was fearful you had overwalked yourself, or was ill. But this is
my own foolish mind, ingenious at making itself uncomfortable ; and
when I found it was not so, I was shall I tell you almost piqued
at your silence. Adieu.
“Your most sincere and affectionate friend,
“ E. T.”
“Northampton, Dec. 7.
“Were there any post to-morrow, I think I could not persuade my-
self to write to-night. My head is confused. I have been troubled all
day with a distracting headach. This I say merely to excuse any
nonsense I may send you. It is a complaint to which I am sometimes
subject, but does not continue long; I dare say to-morrow I shall be
quite well. Praising another—how far it is right — I am not in the
habit of flattering, perhaps none less so; yet, I do not hesitate to tell
my friends (those I am intimate with) of what I consider as their excel-
lencies, nor I hope — it is what I aim at — of their defects. I wish to
form a true estimate of my own character. I would assist my friends
to form a true estimate of theirs; neither exaggerating nor concealing
their excellencies or defects. This is a nice point. I have not arrived at
it, but am aiming to do so. It requires not a small portion of the spirit
of Christianity; firmness enough to tell another of a fault ; humility
and sobermindedness enough to think rightly of oneself; feeling alone,
if I may so speak, with the Deity—What does he think of me ! The
praise or censure of a fellow-being, if we feel as we ought to do, is in-
capable of having an undue effect on the mind. You esteem me, my
dear-friend. What will you think, if I say, that you ought so to do. I
justly also esteem my dear friend. If we do not mutually think each
other worthy of esteem, our regard could not be justified. We are to
pass our lives together. We have mutually consented to do this. What
are any little expressions of esteem after this 1 May we think soberly
of each other; may we uniformly endeavour to improve each other in
simplicity of mind. How much, I think, is comprehended in this word,
simplicity, or singleness of mind | Not only no positive artifice, but
no secondary view, &c. How any one, with the New Testament in
his hand, and at all in the habit of reflecting, can be proud, is not to be
accounted for. Will God indeed receive me, my dear friend ? At what
an immense distance in moral attainment must I always feel myself :
And this is no affectation of humility.
“This is a strange letter, — no reply to yours. Excuse it : the next,
I trust, will be better. My head is unfit. I am not in the habit of
complaining; and my aversion to this, makes me think sometimes that
678 MEMOIRS OF
I have not sufficiently apprised you of the extreme delicacy of my health
in general. Though, on the whole, certainly, better than it was, yet
it frequently makes me unfit for society, the best and most endeared.
You must lay in a great stock of patience, my dear friend. May you
be blessed in every respect Yours most affectionately, E
“.E. T.”
In June 1805, Miss Tozer was married to Mr. Cloutt. Their union
was of but short continuance. In anticipating her confinement, which
took place in March, she would often converse familiarly of her depar-
ture from this world, as though she had a premonition that the period
was not far distant when it would be realized. With this impression,
she set her house in order, arranging all her clothes, &c. even to a
minuteness painful and distressing to her affectionate friends around her.
On the 20th of March, she was safely delivered of a son ; and the most
promising hopes were entertained of her recovery, even to a better state
of health, than she had hitherto enjoyed. These hopes however, proved
fallacious, for, in about five weeks after, she was seized with an inflam-
mation in her stomach, which terminated in mortification and death.
During the season of her last illness, she was habitually composed and
serene, free from the fear of death, and animated by the supports, pro-
mises, and prospects which the truths of the Gospel had long imparted to
her mind. At one time she nearly repeated Byrom's Paraphrase on the
Twenty-third Psalm, and desired Mr. Cloutt to read the remainder, ex-
pressing her satisfaction and joy in being under the care of so good a
shepherd. At another time she said, when in great pain, “O what should
I do, if I had my religion to seek now !” A short time previous to her
death she said, “Pray for me, all of you, pray for me. How trivial are
all common-place comforts in my situation | We must use the means,
and leave the event to God.” When it was supposed by her husband,
who was kneeling by the bedside, having her hand enclosed in his, that
she was falling into a quiet slumber, on a friend’s entering the room, it
was perceived her spirit had escaped; though, such was her appearance,
it was long before Mr. C. could be persuaded of the fact, and that he
clasped only the breathless frame of his beloved wife. This quiet dis-
mission was congenial to her daily prayer; an outline of which, as a
sort of directory, she had some years ago drawn up, and which she gen-
erally had about her person, written ou a card. Among many others,
it contains these petitions: “ O be with me in the hour of death ! May
I quietly give up my spirit to thee 1 May I live according to thy holy
religión before, and may I then be supported by its consolations; and
may my soul be received by thee, and purified and made to live with
thee for ever.” **
Thus lived and thus died the subject of this Memoir. The memory
of the just is blessed.
M R. S. IS A B E L L A B R O W N.
MRs. Is ABELLA BRowN, wife of the Rev. John Brown, of Whit-
burn, was born in Kelso, the 21st of December, 1759. Her father
was a man of natural good sense, though but little improved by edu-
cation, of strict integrity, and an uncommonly unsuspicious and affec-
tionate heart. He made a consistent profession of religion, and was a
truly pious man. Her mother was a woman, both in manners and in
mind, far above the station in which it was the will of Providence that
she should spend her days. She had been early brought under the in-
fluence of true religion, and during a long life, (for she reached the un-
common age of ninety,) was a most ornamental professor of the faith
of Christ. Her means of doing good were never very extensive, but
they were always conscientiously improved to the utmost; and although
never rich herself, she relieved the wants of the needy more extensively
than many with ten times her income.
Under the care of such parents, and especially of such a mother, it is
almost unnecessary to say that the subject of these notices enjoyed the
advantages of a strictly religious education. She was one of many
children, but she was the only one who survived the dangers of infan-
cy and childhood. This circumstance enabled, and her promising tal-
ents and amiable disposition encouraged them, to give Isabella as com-
plete an education as Kelso could afford, with the intention that, as her
constitution was radically delicate, she might be fitted for gaining a
livelihood by some of the lighter operations of female industry.
It is impossible to ascertain how early religion made a deep impres-
sion on her mind: like Obadiah, she “feared the Lord from her youth.”
when she was about six or seven years of age, she found peculiar plea-
sure in secret prayer, and in committing to memory and repeating psalms
and hymns. About the same period, along with a female companion,
she used often to retire to a wood in the neighbourhood of the town,
to converse and pray about the things which belonged to their eternal
peace. It is still recollected, that her early admission to the Lord’s ta-
ble excited general notice. At the uncommonly early age of twelve,
she was admitted, after examination, to observe that solemn ordinance.
Some of the elders hesitated, simply on the ground of her extreme
youth, as to the propriety of her being allowed to communicate; but
the minister, the Rev. Mr. Nicol, put an end to all such doubts, by re-
marking, that it would be well for the oldest of them if they were as
fit for the service. º
The following extracts from her papers, supposed to have been writ-
ten between her fourteenth and her sixteenth year, will, better than any
description, illustrate her-character. w *
“The Rev. Mr. Nicol preached to-day on these words, “O thou that
hearest prayer, to thee shall all flesh come,” Psal. lxv. 1. O my soul |
what were thy breathings when thou heardest this sweet subject 7–
680 MEMOIRS OF
Didst thou not rejoice that thy God’s ears are always open to thy cry,
and that thou canst with safety pour all thy complaints into his bosom
Stated prayer is, if I may use the expression, like the ordinary course
of the post; but ejaculatory prayer is like sending an express to heaven.
When the Christian is plunged into sad perplexities, let his head and
hands be ever so thronged with his business, yet, his heart may ascend
to his God, unnoticed by the world; his affections may fly up to hea-
ven, and crave fresh armour from grace's magazine, to keep him in all
his troubles. Oh what a great blessing is this, that our God is a pray-
er-hearing God —O Lord, enable me to give thee my backsliding,
treacherous heart, and to look beyond all created things to thee, the
fountain of true happiness. O Lord, never let me be satisfied with
any thing less than thee.—My wicked heart is very apt to be carried
away with the vanities of this world. Come, O Lord, with such pow-
er into my heart, and manifest thy Divine excellence in such a manner
as that earthly things may appear less than nothing. O Lord, drive
out all idols from my heart. O come then, and be King there. Lord,
I am thine, do with me what seemeth good in thy sight.—When we
appear before God, let us go quite out of ourselves, and put on the rai-
ment of our elder brother. It is through his righteousness alone that
our prayers can be accepted. We are unworthy, but worthy is He whose
name we bear, and whose children we are. O Lord, make me sen-
sible of my wants, and give me humbling grace to keep down this spir-
itual pride, which I find daily in me. O Lord, what am I, that thou
art dealing with me so liberally in thy providence º O may thy mercies
and favours, which I am daily receiving, lead me more and more unto
thee, the fountain of all good. Lord, thou only knowest my heart,
thou knowest how it is carried away by the vanities of this life. Oh,
by thy Almighty power, fix it upon a nobler object. O Lord, send thy
word of power, and grant that I may not be able to withstand it. O
Lord, in thee will I put my trust, and thou hast declared that none who
pat their trust in thee shall be put to shame.”—After a day of fasting
and humiliation in the prospect of observing the Lord's Supper, she ob-
serves; “Yesterday was our humiliation day: I am in great heaviness
at this time. I think, instead of sin being mortified in me, corruptions
are rising more strong than ever. Oh for a spirit of grace and suppli-
cation l’” After a synodical fast, she thus writes: “I have this day, O
Lord, been confessing my sins in thy courts, or at least attempting to
do so. None knows the wickedness of my heart, but thee. What a
dead frame have I this day been in 1 O Lord, rouse me from the fatal
security which I am lying under. Obreathe upon my dead heart, by
thy living and life-giving Spirit. O keep me from being contented
with a cold formal performance of duty. What can I do without thy
presence 1 O Lord, into thine hands I commend myself, soul and
body.”—On a young man’s being drowned in the Tweed, she remarks:
“His body is not yet found ; but, if it sleep in Jesus, it matters but lit-
tle where its grave be. Oh, the uncertainty of worldly enjoyments
How vain are all worldly things | They who make them their partner,
have but a sorry one. Oh, to hang loose to everything on earth, and
to cleave close to Jesus as our portion; a portion that will last when time
shall be no more It is he alone who can satisfy the infinite desires of
our souls. It is his love alone that is worthy of our pursuit. His love
- MRS. ISABELLA BROWN. 681
can support under the heaviest trial. Let him take from us what he
will, dare we complain while he himself is ours, while the great I am,
and all his fulness, are ours ?”
In the year 1775, she went to London, in order to prosecute the busi-
ness to which she had devoted herself. While in that city, she was,
to use her own expression, “kindly dealt with, and remarkably kept
amid various temptations.” During the winter of 1776–77, she became
acquainted with the Rev. John Brown, who had been sent by the As-
sociate Presbytery of Edinburgh, to assist for a few months the Rev.
Archibald Hall, minister of the Scottish Church, Wells Street, then-la-
bouring under an illness which ultimately issued in death. It had been
her intention to leave London just about the time that he arrived ; but
she was prevented by some unforeseen events from carrying her purpose
into execution. By circumstances apparently altogether accidental was
that acquaintance formed, which terminated in a union replete with com-
fort and advantage to both parties. How wonderful are the providen-
tial dispensations of God . Two young persons from distant parts of
Scotland are brought to London, and made to form an acquaintance,
which is to lead to their spending their lives together in their native
country, though in a district distant from the places of both their birth
and education.
She returned to Scotland in June, 1777. Not very long after her re-
turn, she heard of the death of the Rev. Archibald Hall, for whom she
entertained a very high and very merited respect. On this occasion
she writes thus: “Dr. Claverhill has given me a most delightful ac-
count of Mr. Hall's death. What comfort is this to the people of God!
and surely it may convince the wicked that there is a reality in religion,
when they see a timorous mortal like themselves, meeting the destroy-
er with smiles and holy resignation. But what great gain is it for the
people of God to exchange time for eternity . It is then they get free
of the body of sin, which mars all their comforts. It is then they get
their hearts full of that Lord Jesus, who, in love to us, took out the
sting of death. It was for us that our Redeemer visited the dark grave;
and we may with cheerfulness go down and ‘see the place where the
Lord lay.” Oh ! to be living every day as if it were our last, and long-
ing for the full enjoyment of God in Christ. If a glimpse of his coun-
tenance through the lattice be so ravishing, how inexpressibly delightful
must it be, when our Lord shall break the dimming glass, and show his
glory face to face . We shall have a long eternity to satisfy our infinite
desires, and to wonder at the incomprehensible love of God to sinful
mortals. Certainly, this will be our transporting employment for ever
and ever.” *
In few things do young Christians more lose sight of their Christi-
anity, than in the very momentous business of marriage. Many of
them plainly act in direct opposition to the apostolical injunction: “Be
ye not unequally yoked.” “Let them marry only in the Lord.” And
even they who do not entirely neglect this consideration, by no means
seek the Divine direction with that eagerness which the importance of
the event seems plainly to require. In this leading step in the journey
of life, they scarcely acknowledge God; and what wonder is it if they
do not experience His blessing'ſ The subject of this memoir obviously
acted otherwise. She gave herself first to God, and then to her hus-
86
682 MEMOIRS OF
band by God’s will. In the prospect of her marriage, we find her writ-
ing as follows: “I intend to set apart a day for supplication and prayer,
and asking the Lord’s counsel and advice in the affair of my intended
marriage; and oh! that he may enable me to perform this duty in a
right manner. On him I desire wholly to depend, renouncing every
thing of self. I think I see as much sin in my best duties as might
condemn me for ever.”
Of the manner in which this resolution was carried into effect, we
have the following account, in another paper, dated, “Kelso, Jan. 18th,
1779. I set great part of this day apart for asking the Lord's counte-
nance and direction as to the affair betwixt my friend Mr. B. and me.
But oh how dead is my heart 1 how dull my affection I find the
body of sin bearing me down. Innumerable evils compass me about,
so that I cannot lift up mine eyes. I find lusts and corruption flying
thick about me ; all my sins are standing in terrible array against me ;
every moment of my past life is accusing me of abused mercies, and
neglected duties; but blessed be God, that the blood of Jesus Christ his
Son cleanseth from all sin. This, this is my plea when I am tempted
to despair : O Lord, keep me from being contented with the bare per-
formance of duty O may I see thee in it ! Direct all my paths, and,
if thou seest meet to change my station in the world, O fit me for it, so
that in whatsoever situation I may be, thou mayest be glorified. Never
leave me to be a reproach to religion, nor a stumbling-block to any of
thy people. I desire to rely on thee for all I need. O take the throne
of my heart, and let Jesus reign there for ever.”
Her marriage took place on June the 22d, 1779. In this new station,
the Ged who had placed her in it, enabled her to acquit herself in a
manner highly respectable. The incidents of a life spent in a very
retired situation in the country, amid domestic cares and employments,
could notbevery varied. Providence was pleased very soon to deprive her
of her first child; an affliction which she felt deeply, yet bore patiently.
Her time was spent in a most inoffensive, quiet, prudent, and pious
manner. In few stations is Christian prudence more necessary, than
in that of a minister’s wife in the country. Her behaviour in this cha-
racter was singularly wise, and contributed both to the acceptance and
usefulness of her husband’s labours. She paid particular attention to
the religious instruction both of her children and servants. She was
naturally of a very modest and rather timid disposition ; yet, she esta-
blished a meeting of persons of her own sex, of whose piety she thought
well, for prayer and religious conference ; of which she continued a
member till her death. Having acquired early a taste for reading, the
leisure she possessed, was partly filled up with the persual of good
books. Like every saint, she “loved the habitation of God’s house.”
and though possessed of a refined taste, she was not fastidious in her
judgment of discourses: if they were but plain and evangelical, she re-
lished them.
In August 1794, she was attacked with a painful disorder, by which
she was reduced to extreme weakness, and was in imminent danger.
Under this affliction, she manifested uncommon patience, but always
indulged the expectation of recovery. She was the reverse of an en-
thusiast ; yet she said, the following Scripture was so impressed on her
mind, that she could not help hoping to survive this distress: “The
MRS. ISABELLA BROWN. 683
Lord hath chastened me sore, but hath not given me over to death.”
During this illness she contracted a deafness which continued with her
ever after.
Her recovery was but temporary. The seeds of disease lurked in
her constitution, and they too soon arrived at a fatal maturity. The
disease of which she died, was phthisis or consumption. She gradually
became weaker and weaker, suffering comparatively little pain, except
from the asthmatic symptoms of the disease. By gentle and almost im-
perceptible degrees, was her earthly house of this tabernacle taken
down. She went down silently and slowly to the house appointed for
all living. During the whole of her long illness, she manifested the
most quiet resignation, and a cheerful, yet humble hope. “I have no
cause,” said she one day, “to be weary of the world; I have, on the
contrary, much to make me pleased with it ; but I have long been wil-
ling to part with all my enjoyments; and,” glancing her eye upward,
“I had rather be yonder.” She intimated that her affliction had been
very useful to her, and that during it she had learned much that she
had never before known. She looked out a great variety of promises,
marked them in her Bible, and said, “These are my comforts.” Though
sometimes tempted to think all her religious experience delusion, she
“held fast the confidence and rejoicing of her hope.” The following
passage was peculiarly consolatory to her : “Thou shalt keep him in
perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.”
From the commencement of her last illness, she seemed to consider
herself as dying. It was remarked to her on one occasion, that some
had been brought as low as she was, and yet had recovered. “If such
be the will of God,” said she, “ and his glory should be promoted by it,
I have no objection ; but I have a desire to depart, and to be with
Christ.” She declared to an intimate friend, that, in the view of eter-
nity, she was resolved to venture on Christ in the promise ; but added,
“Oh, the unholiness of my heart unfits me for heaven l” “Oh,” said
she, laying her hand on her breast, “Oh, if you knew what is here !” The
following texts were peculiarly useful to her in the more advanced stages
of her affliction. “If thou wouldst believe, thou shouldest see the glory
of the Lord.”—“I will not leave thee comfortless.”—“Satan hath de-
sired to have thee, that he might sift thee as wheat, but I have prayed
for thee.” She repeatedly said to her nearest relative, “Be not pe-
remptory for my life, but earnest for my salvation and my experience
of the love of Christ. I am afraid,” said she one evening, “ how I am
to get over this night.”—“The Lord is able,” said a friend to her,
“ to carry you through.”—“I know it,” she replied, “ and as willing
as he is able.” *
Eight days before her death, Mr. Brown, after much hesitation about
what was his duty, had gone to assist in dispensing the Lord’s Supper
to a neighbouring congregation. “I am glad,” said she, when she
heard it, “that he is gone : when he is at his Master's work, the Lord
will take care of me and the house.” A very few days before her de-
parture, she wished to look over a form of personal covenanting. Af-
ter considering it carefully, with her dying and trembling hand she
affixed her signature, saying, “... I do this cheerfully, and with all my
heart.” As she was now very deaf, and her weakness scarcely allow-
ed her to hold up a Bible, she employed her eldest son, the writer of
684 MEMOIRS OF MRS. BROWN.
this little memorial, to write out for her a list of the promises which
she had marked in her Bible. This little list was constantly in her
hand.
On the morning on which she died, she took an affectionate and so-
lemn leave of her family. She often read over her list of promises, and
pointing sometimes at one, sometimes at another, said, “Such a pro-
mise is sweet.” About a quarter of an hour before she died, she was
reading them ; and noticing particularly that tender declaration, “I
will never leave thee, nor forsake thee,” she said faintly, “Oh, they
are sweet !” After taking a survey of the whole, she said in a manner
peculiarly pleasing, “Hath he said it, and will he not do it! Hath he
promised it, and will he not make it good” A near relative whispered,
“Can you now trust the promises 'P' She answered : “Guilt stares me
in the face, but through grace, I desire to trust the promises.” A slight
convulsion shook her frame; it was but for a moment, and her features
settled into a tranquil smile. She expired June 8th, 1795. After her
3. the list of promises was found on her breast with her hand upon
them.
MRs. ELIZA BERRY.
MRs. ELIZA BERRy, the wife of the Rev. Joseph Berry, sometime
Pastor of the dissenting church at Warminster, and now of London,
was the youngest daughter of the Rev. Thomas Grove, formerly of
Woodburn, in the county of Bucks, who was one of the six students ex-
pelled from the university of Oxford for praying, reading, and expound-
ing the Scriptures. Descended from a family of great respectability,
she had been favoured with a good education, and was not destitute of
those elegant accomplishments which would have fitted her to shine in
polite society. . The event which was chiefly instrumental in her con-
version, was the pious conversation of an amiable brother-in-law, who
at the same time, and by the same means, succeeded in producing a per-
mament impression upon the mind of her sister. She was married to
Mr. Berry in the year 1804; and after a lingering illness, expired Feb.
18, 1812, in the 37th year of her age.
Such are the few particulars which we have been able to gather of
her history. But her character was of no ordinary stamp; and it is for
the sake of laying this before our readers, that we have introduced the
present brief memoir. We are indebted for the following interesting
portrait of the christian wife and mother, to the pen of the Rev. William
Jay of Bath, who preached a sermon on the occasion of her death,
which has been printed.
“The religion of this saint,” says Mr. Jay, “was not occasional ; it
did not depend upon particular seasons, and exercises, and occurrences.
She was in the fear of the Lord all the day long; and acknowledged
him in all her ways. No one loved the habitation of God’s house more
than she did, but her devotion was not confined to it. It was not roving
and hearing religion. It appeared in public, but it lived in private : it
was closet and family religion. It was not a thing separable from her,
and which was sometimes assumed, and sometimes laid aside; but it
was a principle wrought into all her feelings, habits, and actions. Let
me adduce a partial but interesting illustration. After the month of
November 1811, she scarcely ever went out. Her Sabbath day even-
ings were employed in reading the Scriptures, and holding familiar
dialogues with her three babes. After hearing them repeat a short
prayer, and one of Watts's little hymns for children, she seated them
each in a separate chair, while, with maternal simplicity and endear-
ment, she heard and answered their questions, and proposed her own.
Dismissing the younger two to rest, the eldest, then six years old, was
retained up a little longer. With him, her constant Sabbath day even-
ling custom was, to pray. At these periods she forgot herself in endea-
vouring to interest her boy. She would begin with prayer for his father,
who at that precise period was preaching. Then she would pray for
her children, one by one. After mentioning their names, she either
j
686 MEMOIRS OF
implored forgivness for foibles, or expressed her gratitude that the
‘great God had made them such good children.’ Taking this boy one
day into the parlour where she usually performed these exercises, his
father asked him if his dear mother did not sometimes kneel with him
and pray. With eyes instantly filled with tears, the little disciple art;
lessly replied, ‘Yes, father, mother used to kneel at that chair, and
hold my hand, and pray, for father, that he may do good, and for me,
and for Henry, and for little Mary, and for all of us.”
“O ye mothers, sanctify your tenderness and your influence How
much depends upon your gentle and early endeavours!. How often
you may sow the seed which, after a lapse of time, shall revive and
flourish, thirty, sixty, and a hundred fold ! How often has a disobe-
dient son been reclaimed by the remembrance of the eloquent tears of her
who bore him, or the pressure of her trembling hand when delivering
her dying charge What did Mr. Cecil and Mr. Newton owe to the
lessons their mothers had taught them What did Timothy owe to his
grandmother Lois, and his mother Eunice What did Samuel owe to
Hannah We know little of Jesse ; but how often and tenderly does
David, in his devotions, refer to his mother, and plead the relation
in which he had the honour and happiness of standing to her —‘Save
the son of thine handmaid.’ ‘Truly I am thy servant, and the son of
thine handmaid.” “I think,’ said this deceased mother, about a fortnight
before her death, ‘ I think, in looking back on all these seasons, my
sweetest exercises were with my dear boy on the Sabbath evenings. The
house was still ; my babes were in bed ; my husband was labouring for
God in the sanctuary: every thing aided and inspired devotion. I think
my dear boy will never forget some of these seasons, any more than my-
self. O my happy seasons with my infant son l’
“Similar to this, was her attention to the religious welfare, as well as
domestic comfort of her servants. She would often converse with them
on the concerns of their souls, and administer reproof with mildness, or
encouragement with tenderness, as their state required. The servant
living with her at the time of her death, remarked with tears, ‘That
she little thought, when she entered the family, that her master would
• prove her spiritual father, and her dear mistress her spiritual nurse.”
But so it was. On the Sabbath-day evening, it was usual, before prayer,
for the master to repeat the outlines of one of the sermons that day de-
livered, the mistress that of another, and the servant that of a third.
Thus there was friendship to soften authority, and to sweeten.subjec-
tion.
“Humility was one of Mrs. Berry’s distinguishing qualities: she
was clothed with it. She had no religious ostentation about her. She
was like the violet, that is betrayed in its concealed retreat by its fra-
grance. She did not, like many, talk of her spiritual attainments, or say
much of her experience. Neither was she always uttering expressions of
her unworthiness and vileness. As Mrs. More observes, humility con-
sists, not in telling our faults, but in being willing to be told them. Her
intimate friends knew much that her common acquaintance never knew.
Her husband knew much that her intimate friends never knew. Her
God knew much that her husband never knew : her life was ‘hid with
Christ in God.”
“Another feature of her character equally obvious, was her kindness.
MRS, ELIZA BERRY. 687
This was a perpetual stream, flowing from the fountain of a warm
heart :—
“Ne'er, roughen’d by those cataracts and breaks
Which humour interposed too often makes.”
She was free from “temper-flaws unseemly.” She had ‘the orna-
ment of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great
price.” She listened to no backbiter ; she spake evil of no man: upon
her tongue was ‘the law of kindness.” She loved the poor, and often
visited them. She promoted no fewer then three charitable institutions
in her own neighbourhood, and was secretary to them all.
“Her prudence was pre-eminent : it appeared in all her conduct.
She seemed intuitively to perceive all the proprieties of action, in what-
ever combination of circumstances she was placed. But this quality is
to be noticed in her chiefly as the wife of a minister. This I have always
considered as one of the most difficult spheres for a female to fill up
properly ; but she filled it up without censure and without envy. Often,
when sounded respecting the characters or actions of others, she would
reply with a sweet smile : ‘You forget that I am a minister’s wife.”
She never embroiled her husband in ecclesiastical contest; never urged
him to look abroad after a more popular sphere ; never stimulated him
to exact more prerogative; never made him discontented by intimations
that the respect shown him was not equal to his claims. More then once,
when he received an invitation to labour for a while in a much larger
congregation, she has said, ‘My Joseph, let me beseech you to decline
it. Many of our young ministers seem to eager to catch at popularity,
and to rove abroad ; let us be satisfied with the condition in which the
Lord has fixed us. His eye is always upon us, and he regards not the
splendour of the station, but the manner in which we discharge the du-
ties arising from it.” Though exceedingly attached to his company, she
was not so selfish as to wish to detain him from his studies or his offcial
work. She would often gently call him from his books, and remind
him, that a minister has not only to read and make sermons, but to visit
the fatherless and the widow in their affliction, and to speak a word in
season to them that are weary.
“Her attention to order and regularity was singular. Life was with
her a system, and every thing in it had its due time and importance.
Hence she knew nothing of that hurry and fretfulness occasioned by
omission and confusion. She, in her last illness, looked forward and
arranged every thing, however minute. On giving up her books as
secretary, a few weeks before she died, her countenance was a true index
of her mind. When the ladies were gone, she exclaimed: ‘Blessed.
be God for this. I should not have liked my husband or my children
to have been reproached with inaccurate accounts. Above all, I should
have been sorry for the cause of religion to suffer.” She examined all
her papers, destroying those she did not wish to have preserved, and
neatly folding up all the rest. An inventory of all the houshold furniture,
and of all the children’s apparel, was written by her, and given to her
husband, so that he might find in a moment every thing he should
wish. She had cut out with her own hand, and laid by in the order in
which it was to be used, work for her dear little girl to sew for twelve
months to come. No circumstance connected with her funeral had she
688 MEMOIRS OF
-
overlooked. And one thing in particular, as very characteristic of the
self-possession which enabled her to provide for every case that could
result from her condition, I cannot forbear to mention. It was intended
that she should be buried in the vault under the communion-table. At
the last administration of the Lord's Supper, her husband, struck with
the thought that, when performing the next service of this kind, his
beloved wife would be lying beneath his feet, was too much affected
to proceed. She accidentally heard of this; and without consulting or
informing him, she sent for some of the gentlemen belonging to the
church, and expressed to them her dying wish, that she might be buried
under the the front gallery ! Her wish was gratified.
“From the end of December, till beyond the middle of January, she
scarcely ever composed herself to sleep, without repeating the little song
said to be composed by an Indian ; the second verse of which she often
rehearsed with a kind of transport:
* A few more rising suns, at most,
Will land me safe on Canaan's coast.”
“On the 2d of February, while two friends were sitting by her bed-
side, she expatiated most sweetly on the glories of heaven, and her
assured hope of going there. As one of them left the room, her little
girl entered it, and when the babe showed herself at the corner of her
curtain, she said: “ There, I thought I never should have been able to
give up that child; but now I can do even this, and do it without the
least anxiety. It is my Father's will that we should separate; his will
is mine ; and cannot I leave her with him 'P
“Feb. 5, was spent chiefly in arranging domestic concerns, and she
spoke with the greatest composure of her funeral. She said: ‘I have
hope towards God beyond a doubt; and this hope is founded, not on
frames and visions, but on a comparison of my state with the word of
God. There I read, Inan is a poor, lost, ignorant, unholy creature. I
both believe and feel it. But so effectually has grace wrought in me,
that though lost, I cry unto God for mercy; though ignorant, I go unto
him for wisdom. I find the Gospel suited to my state. I look out of
myself entirely. I go as one utterly lost to Jesus Christ. I wish no
alteration in the doctrine of his cross; I would be saved in the very
way he has revealed.”
“To an old deacon, (ripening, like herself, for glory,) who called
upon her the next day, she said in reply to his inquiry how she found
herself: “Almost at home ! My precious Bible ! True every tittle.
I never thought it would have supported me thus; but it does. I never
thought I could have enjoyed so much. I have not an anxious wish.”
“Feb. 13. She was now much enfeebled. While her husband and
servant were turning her in the bed, she said: “Ah, my dear, it is hard
work.” Then, recollecting herself, she added: “Hard, did I say " No,
I recal that word: it looks like repining. It is not hard, but requires
more than nature to acquiesce in.” -
“Feb. 15. To a friend she said: ‘It seems as if there was no en-
emy. He is, as good John Bunyan says, as still as a stone. I scarcely
think of him. My Jesus is all my salvation and all my desire. Had
I breath how I could have sung of him in the night.”
“Feb. 17. In the night, she begged her husband to pray once more
MRS. ELIZA BERRY. 689
with her. On his concluding, she said, ‘My dear, you have forgotten
to pray for one thing.” “What is that?’ ‘That we may be prepared
for and supported in the parting hour.” On his intimating the difficul-
ty of doing it, she replied with firmness: “Well, I can do it; and much
as I love my Joseph, I can leave him, to go to my Jesus.” Then, tak-
ing his hand, she prayed aloud, acknowledged the kindness of God in
uniting them, and blessing them in each other. After this, she dozed
and enjoyed some calm hours. About seven in the morning, she was
evidently seized for death. During her illness, she had frequently
requested Christian friends to pray that she might have an easy dis-
missal. Her wish was granted. She seemed free from pain. Her last
broken and almost inarticulate accents were, ‘Walley—Shadow—Home
—Jesus—Peace.” A few minutes before eight, her head gently drop-
ped on one side of her pillow, and her last pulse was felt by the hand
of her anguished husband. *
“The deceased,” remarks the preacher “was only a private charac-
ter, it is true; but she was a decided character. She was a constant
character. She was an amiable character. She was an inoffensive
character. She was a benevolent character. She neither lived nor
died to herself. And “he that in these things serveth Christ, is ac-
ceptable to God, and approved of men.’” e
S7
}
M ISS H A N N A H S IN C L AIR.
HANNAH SINCLAIR was the eldest daughter of the Right Hon. Sir
John Sinclair, Bart. of Ulbster, in the county of Caithness, North
Britain. Her mother was the daughter of Alexander Maitland, of Stoke
Newington, Esq. She died during Miss Sinclair's infancy. The sub-
ject of this memoir was born Feb. 1. 1780. During the early years of
her childhood, she was distinguished by a thirst for superior knowledge,
and a comprehensive understanding, directed even to abstruse subjects.
At the age of ten, she had read through a great number of volumes in
a library belonging to her father at Thurso Castle, where she and her
younger sister resided with their grandmother, Lady Jenet Sinclair. Her
delight was, to read a new book ; and on whatsoever subject it treated,
history, fiction, divinity, philosophy, her young mind seized upon it
with avidity. She never took pleasure in the common amusements of
children, and was often to be seen climbing on chairs to search for what
even many grown persons would think very dry reading. One day,
she took a clergyman into her nursery, and opening her Bible, requested
him to explain a passage which she did not fully understand. He did
so; but, not satisfied with the explanation, she argued the point, and
he left her with much astonishment at the depth and acuteness of in-
tellect displayed by a child not yet ten years of age. Her memory
was as retentive as her understanding was clear. One Sunday, the
clergyman of the parish being present at dinner, Hannah was asked
for an account of the sermon. She went so regularly through the
heads of the discourse, and what was said upon each, that the minister,
who, contrary to the usual practice in the Church of Scotland, read
his sermons, declared that he could not have told half so much about
it himself. At this period, she often spoke about religion, especially to
the servants; and would converse, and even argue about faith and
works, in a style which evinced the distinctness of her theological views.
But the early expansion of intellect must not be confounded with the
genuine operations of Divine Grace. It is of the highest importance
to give an early direction to the infant mind as to the essentials of
Christian knowledge; but orthodoxy is not piety. It was Miss Sin-
clair’s deliberate acknowledgement, that, at this period, she had not ex-
perienced the regenerating power of the Gospel.
In her eleventh year, Miss Sinclair came, with her grandmother and
younger sister, to reside at Edinburgh. Here, she attended the minis-
try of the Rev. Dr. Walter Buchanan of the Canongate Church, for
whose sermons she soon testified a partiality; yet still, according to her
own subsequent views of the progress of religious principle in her
heart, during the three years which were then passed in Edinburgh,
an intellectual, rather than a decidedly spiritual attachment to the
truths of the Gospel, characterized her feelings, and was displayed in
her deportment.
At thirteen, she was placed at a boarding-school at Stoke Newing-
MISS SINCLAIR. 691
ton, near London, where she made rapid progress in every branch of
education which called forth the energies of her mind, taking especial
delight in the study of astronomy. As she grew up, good sense and
benevolence were manifested in her whole demeanour; and to those
who are unconscious of the true nature of Christian holiness, Hannah
Sinclair would have appeared, at this period, in every respect, a real
Christian.
She returned to Edinburgh at the age of sixteen, and was restored
to the accustomed privilege of attending on the ministry of Dr. Bu-
chanan. Not long afterwards the time arrived, when the great con-
cerns of eternity began to interest her heart in a manner to which it had
hitherto been a stranger. The truly scriptural and impressive instruc-
tions of her esteemed pastor, seemed in an especial degree to be accom-
panied with a blessing from Him, “with whom is the preparation of
the heart.” The value of an immortal soul, the uncertainty of human
life, the approach of another state of existence, the fall of man, the cor-
rupt state of the sinner, the wrath of God against sin, the awful conse-
quences of spiritual ignorance and error; were subjects which now oc-
cupied her thoughts, and led her to contemplate with seriousness and
solemnity, that great question, ‘What must I do to be saved P
Amidst many feeble notions, and dark conceptions, as to what real
religion was, and what it was not, she formed the deliberate resolution
of becoming religious, of devoting herself to God, and seeking in right
earnest for him, who is “ the way, and the truth, and the life.” The
doctrines of the cross were no longer viewed as subjects of a mere
acquiescent speculation, but as the soul and substance of present and
eternal happiness.
She afterwards often looked back, and was filled with astonish-
ment, that so small a seed should bring forth any fruits. But He, that
planted, nourished it ; and to Him alone she ascribed the rise, progress,
and increase. She now felt the decided conviction, which was strength-
ened by the deliberate conclusions of her future and matured judg-
ment, that she must, on scriptural grounds, from this period, date the
holy and happy change of “passing from death unto life,” through
the renewing influences of the Spirit of God upon her soul.
From this time, although nothing very striking, or observable, to
those around her, might be apparent, yet there was a great and felt al-
teration in her views, desires, and pursuits. Her devotional exercises,
although they had never been externally omitted, where now performed
with a regularity and earnestness which gave them an entirely new cha-
racter. The Sabbath was not only more punctually observed, but its
essential privileges were duly and gratefully prized. The faithful
preaching of the gospel was now ardently desired, and beneficence to
the poor became a more fixed principle. Until then, she had not com-
prehended the force and meaning of the apostolical injunction, “What-
soever ye do, do all to the glory of God;” nor to apply to it, in what
are usually considered the more trifling concerns of daily occurrence.
JNow, that precept was written upon her heart, and became the regu-
lating motive of her conduct.
Under such circumstances, nothing could be more favourable to her
Christian progress, than the constant attendance on Dr. Buchanan’s
ministry; for which she felt, to the end of her life, that she never could
692 MEMOIRS OF
be sufficiently thankful. His affectionate manner was well calculated
to make a deep impression ; and his truly Christian spirit forcibly struck
her, as indicating that there is, in true religion, somewhat infinitely
beyond what appears in the lives of even the decent and moral : that
there is an uniting principle, by which the sinner obtains an interest in
all that the Saviour is, and all that he has done for man. --
The great fundamental points of scriptural doctrine, such as the utter
depravity of human nature, salvation through a crucified Redeemer,
the necessity of the continual influences of the Holy Spirit, and of ho-
liness of life, had long been subjects of mental acquiescence on the
part of Miss Sinclair; but they had never, until this period of her life,
produced that solicitude and desire which binds them on the conscience,
and makes them the actuating principle of the affections. Like Job,
she had previously heard of God “ by the hearing of the ear,” and had
lived in comparative self-complacency; but now, her “eye saw him”
in his grace and truth, and the result was similar; she “ abhorred her-
self, and repented in dust and ashes.”
To the interesting sermons of her esteemed pastor, under the imme-
diate blessing of God, she ascribed the disposition to make the religion
of the Bible the object and business of her life. No book to which she
then had access, so fully accorded with the sentiments which her heart
approved, as “ Orton's Sermons.” These were attentively and pray-
erfully studied. Shortly after, Mr. Wilberforce presented her father
with his admirable Treatise on Christianity. She was overjoyed to
find that the views, now so endeared to her mind, were no less clearly
defined, than beautifully enforced, in that volume. She read it again
and again, often observing, that she could never be wearied with repeti-
tion. The ideas of its author on the practical parts of Christianity, in a
peculiar manner delighted her. They accorded well with the benevo-
lence of her own heart, and her convictions what the religion of Christ
must really be. *
Miss Sinclair lived at this time, as much as was in her power, in re-
tirement. Although possessed of qualifications which would have been
deemed ornamental to the most polished circles, yet, she sought not her
happiness there. She had no relish for worldly company or amusements,
and with the pious she had little opportunity of intercourse. Her much
valued minister she occasionally saw, but it was in company with
others; and he had, at this period, no particular knowledge of the
change which had been wrought upon her character. But, in the bosom
of her family, she found a salutary and useful employment for her mind.
She now took upon herself the task of instructing the younger part of
her father’s second family; and the happy art she had of making in-
struction agreeable by the interesting mode of communicating it, made
her little pupils as eager for a lesson as children commonly are for a ho-
liday. She was so modest and gentle in her temper, so free from the
assumption of superiority, that it was necessary to be thoroughly ac-
quainted with her, to discover how much her mind excelled the ordi.
nary standard. Her taste for simplicity was shown in the consistent
neatness of her dress. She had a perfect indifference to finery and or-
nament, not unfrequently remarking, how wearisome it was to hear the
subject of dress so constantly spoken of, and expressing a wish that there
was but one fashion, which should never change. Yet, she affected no
MISS SINCLAIR. 693
singularity ; and her economy was dictated by a wish to appropriate
the more to purposes of beneficence. She acted upon the principle, that
Christian charity loses its appropriate distinction, if unaccompanied
with self-denial. Her sound judgment was displayed in the mode in
which she discharged the duty of alms-giving. She considered it to be
a duty to add the labour of investigation to the indulgence of a bene-
volent spirit; and thus, with limited means, she was enabled to do
much more extensive good than by an indiscriminate charity.
It will not excite surprise in any person conversant with the experi-
ence of real Christians, that a mind constructed like Miss Sinclair's
should have been exercised with deep and anxious speculations on
mysterious points, connected with some of the great doctrines of the Gos-
pel. It is the trial by which persons of her turn of mind are more es-
pecially liable to be visited. Occasionally, darkness and confusion on
some points produced much disquietude, which she, for a considerable
time, kept to herself. It was not till about the age of twenty-one, that
she communicated to a confidential friend, how much she had suffered ;
and she long afterwards told that same individual, that there was not
one doctrine of the Gospel, in the belief of which she had not at some
period or other been shaken. “But,” remarks her biographer, “let not
this case be misapprehended. Hers was not the hesitation or unbelief
of the infidel, but the doubts of an inquiring mind, anxious to arrive at
the truth. All this while, she appears to have been convinced of the
reality of the Christian system in the aggregate, but felt a solicitous
uncertainty as to some particular tenets. She was even daily and use-
fully instructing the young members of the family in many essential
points, before she had cleared up others to her own satisfaction. The
judicious friend, to whom she unbosomed her inmost thoughts, was often
distressed at the state of her mind ; but seldom argued with her, and
rather talked of the lovely features of Christianity; the beauties of ho-
liness, as exhibited in the life of our Lord, and in a faint degree, in that
of his people; the grandeur and magnificence of the scheme of redemp-
tion; and the things that belong to our everlasting peace. Her friend
felt assured, that as religious principles gained strength through study
of the Scriptures and prayer, her doubts would vanish, and only prove
a prelude to a solid and permanent peace of mind. Hannah repeated-
ly said, how much she was benefited by these observations, and express-
ed the most aſſectionate anxiety not to lose the advantages which they
afforded her. Accordingly her mind became gradually and substantial-
ly composed, in regard to each and every one of those difficulties, which
for a season had disquieted her. So true is it that, “Then shall we
know, if we follow on to know the Lord,” (Hosea, vi. 3.) Through
mental trials of such a description, God exercised her faith and patience
for a while, only that his own glory might be the more abundantly
promoted, by her happy attainment of that “peace which passeth all
understanding.” It is “thus that he giveth his beloved rest,” (Ps.
cxxvii. 2.) Religious friendship and intimate communication of heart,
founded upon mutual experience of divine mercy and love, are means of
grace, which in the secret, and, for the most part, undeveloped history
of private Christians, promote much of their growth and advance-
ment in the divine life. Such opportunities can never be too highly
prized: their remembrance will ever be sweetly cherished, whilst we
694 MEMOIRs of
live on earth, nor does it appear probable, that they can be forgotten
in glory.
In the year 1806, Miss Sinclair, then in her twenty-sixth year, was
first seized with symptoms of the complaint which ultimately proved
fatal; the result of a neglected cold. During her illness, those
... around her expressed their surprise at the calmness and patience she
exhibited, and inquired the cause. Her reply was, that it proceeded
from trust in God, who, she knew, would manage much better for her,
than she could for herself. She never entirely recovered her health, but
was for some years tolerably well, especially during the summer season.
And now, no more was heard of doubts: the doctrines of the Gospel
had become the ground of her simple dependence, and her unshaken
trust was reposed on the Saviour.
In the year 1814, Sir John Sinclair and his family left Scotland, and
came to reside on Ham Common in Surrey. Here Miss Sinclair had
the privilege of cultivating the friendship of a few very estimable and
pious individuals; and, while the state of her health admitted of it, she
became the diligent visitor of the sick, and instructor of the poor, in
the neighbourhood of her father’s residence.
In the summer of 1816, she visited an endeared relative in Scotland.
Of the frame of her mind at this period, we have an illustration in the
record which has been preserved, of an observation which she made to
Lady Colquhoun early one morning. “I have never,” she said, “ been
so happy as last night. I was not able to sleep, and began to meditate
on the employment of Saints and angels around the throne. I ruminat-
ed until I thought I saw the multitude of the redeemed, which no man
can number. I fancied I heard their angelic voices singing the song of
. Moses and the Lamb. Methought I joined with them; and at last I
concluded by praying that I might be soon, if not immediately removed,
to unite my note of praise with theirs.”
In 1817, Miss Sinclair first commenced a Diary. Her reasons for
adopting this practice are stated at the beginning of the Journal, the
existence of which was unknown to her friends till after her decease : a
few extracts are subjoined, as throwing light upon her character and
the exercises of her mind, at this period. .
A “Ormly Lodge, Jan. 5, 1817.
“As it appears from the memoir of many eminent Christians, that
it has been their practice to keep a diary or journal of their religious ex-
perience, and that they have derived much benefit from that practice;
I propose (in humble dependence on the divine blessing) to follow their
example in that respect. May that great and glorious Being, without
whose assistance I can do nothing aright, guide my pen 1 May he open
my eyes to discern my sins and failings of every kind, and to record
them with sincerity and truth ! May he also enable me to record with
real heart-felt gratitude the mercies with which he may be pleased to
favour me ; and when exercised with vexations or disappointments,
may he enable me to receive them, and to write about them, without a
murmuring word or thought, saying, as Job did, “Shall I receive good
at the hand of the Lord, and shall I not also receive evil?
“It is my duty at all times to dedicate myself to the service of my
God and Redeemer; but I would desire to do so especially now, at the
beginning of a new year. O ! that this year may be better spent in
MISS SINCLAIR. 695
every respect, than those which have preceded it! Do thou, I beseech
thee, O ! my God, give a check to the wanderings of my mind, and en-
able me to love thee with more sincerity, and to serve thee with more
fidelity, then I have ever yet done !”
“January 12. Read Hervey’s Theron and Aspasio. Earnestly wish-
ed and prayed that I may obtain that precious faith which he so well
describes. Heard something in the course of the day which much hurt
me. Endeavoured to feel resigned.”
“January 13. Awoke this morning in a better frame, and felt dur-
ing the whole day more disposed for the duties of devotion than usual.
Lord, I thank thee for this great mercy. In the afternoon I heard an
attack made on some of the doctrines of the Gospel, and did not say
much in their defence. But, Lord, thou knowest I was kept silent only
by the fear of doing more harm than good. Thou knowest I highly
prize thy Gospel.”
“January 20. This day my mind was full of fears and doubts
of various kinds. Read Hervey, Newton, and Chalmers’ Evidences.
Prayed earnestly for a confirmed and assured faith.”
“January 21. The day being mild, I ventured to take a walk in
the garden : every thing there looked dull and withered ; but soon, O
my God I may we expect to see the face of Nature revive at thy com-
mand. O that thou wouldst be pleased also to revive the power of re-
ligion in my soul, and cause it to grow, and to flourish, more than it
has ever yet done !”
“February 1. I have this day, Lord! as thou knowest, completed
my 37th year. O ! that I could add, that every one of these years, since
I became capable of knowing thee, had been indeed devoted to thy ser-
vice. But when I reflect on the manner in which they have been spent,
I cannot but blush, and be confounded, in thy awful presence. I can
only address thee in the words of the publican, “God be merciful to me,
a sinner l’ Yet, Lord, I cannot but hope that, in the course of the year
which is past, I have made some little progress in thy good and holy
ways, that my faith is confirmed, my desires to love and serve thee
more sincere and lively. Surely, if it be so, I have much cause for
gratitude to thee. Thou knowest, that my most earnest wish is to grow
in grace, and in the knowledge of my God and Saviour, Jesus Christ.
In him would I desire to place all my hopes, and surely, Lord! they
shall not be disappointed.”
“February 2. Awoke this morning in a good frame of mind, and
prayed with fervency and pleasure: Read the Bible, and Skelton’s
Dialogues. As my life is particularly retired and uniform, I purpose, for
the future, to write in this Diary only once a week, on Sundays, unless
any thing remarkable should occur on a week day.”
“February 9. Yesterday evening our heavenly Father was pleased to
bestow upon our family another proof of his great mercy, in the safe de-
livery of my sister-in-law, Mrs. Sinclair, of a daughter. Accept, Lord,
our humble thanksgivings, and do thou, I beseech thee, perfect the
recovery of the mother, and grant that the child may live to praise
thee, and, above all, that she may live to thy praise. May she not only
be devoted to thee in baptism, but may she be a Christian indeed and in .
truth !—Was at church to-day, the first time for some months, and felt
glad to be again able to enter the house of prayer.” +
696 MEMOIRs of
“July 20. I have lately made a very valuable acquaintance in Miss
, who has every appearance of being a real Christian. Lord, bless
our intercourse, and grant that I may derive true and spiritual benefit
from it !”
“August 3. In the course of last week was introduced by Miss to
Some poor people in the neighbourhood, and determined to visit them
occasionally, and to read the Bible to them. On Saturday I went to
one of them ; read and explained the second chapter of Ephesians.
Lord, enable me to keep this resolution, and grant that these readings
may prove beneficial, both to myself and my neighbours. Read
Leighton on the Psalms to day, an interesting book lent me by 3.
and heard the children in the evening.”
“August 10. The weather unfavourable, so that I could not go to
church. In the course of last week visited several of my poor neigh-
bours; read and explained the Scriptures to them. Hope to derive
benefit from this exercise. In the forepart of this day I felt very cold
and dull, but in the afternoon better disposed for devotion. Read the
Bible, and Leighton. In the evening heard the children read, and was
particularly pleased with some observations made by one of them.”
“ August 17. Was again disappointed in going to church by the
weather. O ! do thou, Lord, supply in private, the advantages of which
am deprived in public. Thou canst make ample amends for the want
of outward means, and I earnestly implore thou wouldst now do so to
me.”
“August 24. Confined at home by the weather. Read the Bible,
Leighton, and Watts's Meditations. Was much pleased to find that
some of my sisters, one day last week, had been very kind to a poor
woman, and that they showed great anxiety that she might receive
religious instruction. Grant, I beseech thee, O Lord, that the impres-
sions made upon their minds may not wear off, but prove real and per-
manent l”
“August 31. Heard a very interesting sermon from Galat. vi. 14,
on ‘Glorying in the Cross.” The latter part of last week was comfortably
and profitably spent, but the beginning by no means so. Have pity on
my weakness, Lord, and teach me how to love and serve thee. Have
compassion on a poor unsteady creature ſ”
“September 21. Was at Kingston church. Felt too much of a
cold and careless frame while there, and during the whole day. Alas !
Lord, I know not at all what to say for myself I fear such conduct must
be very offensive in thy sight ! O, cause me, I beseech thee, to return
unto thee. Grant that thy word may come home to me with the demon-
stration of the Spirit, and with power, and may be the means of reviv-
ing the power of religion in my treacherous heart, of which I have still
cause to complain ſ”
“October 5. Heard a beautiful sermon from Mr. , on Ephes. v.
18, and afterwards partook of the Sacrament, which he administered in
the most impressive manner. Surely, Lord, I have now every assistance
that means can afford me, but, I well know, that all will be ineffectual,
without thy blessing. Be thou graciously pleased to impart that ines-
timable blessing, which maketh us indeed rich both in this world and in
that which is to come, and which addeth no sorrow with it. Heard the
young people, as usual, in the evening.”

MISS SINCLAIR. 697
“ October 19. Was occupied, during a great part of the day, in
writing a letter to my sister Catherine, at her request, explaining the
Evangelical System of Religion. Do thou, I beseech thee, O my God
grant me the powerful assistance of thy Holy Spirit in the composition
of this letter, that I may be enabled to explain clearly, and to enforce
earnestly, the interesting and important truths which I have under-
taken to illustrate. O ! that all my hopes with regard to this letter,
and in every respect, may be in thee ; for without thee I can do no-
thing !”
“November 2. Heard to-day a truly interesting sermon from Matt.
v. 6. Grant, I beseech thee, Lord, that I may indeed hunger and thirst
after righteousness, in the various senses which Mr. described, and
that the promise in the text may be fulfilled in my experience.—Presen-
ted to Catherine this evening the Letter which I have been writing to
her. O ! that it may be blessed by thee for her spiritual benefit, and
for that of the other members of our family l’”
The Letter referred to in the last paragraph, has been published since
Miss Sinclair's death, and has obtained a very wide circulation with the
happiest effects. It contains a simple and comprehensive survey of the
leading doctrines and precepts of Christianity, and will long perpetuate
the name of the writer. Miss Sinclair was solicited by a friend to allow
it to be printed anonymously as a tract for distribution among the poor;
but her modesty prevented her from complying with the proposal. The
evangelical character of her sentiments, as well as the clearness of her
views, will appear from the following paragraphs: w
“The first of these doctrines, and the foundation of all the rest, is
that of the deep depravity and corruption of human nature. This doc-
trine, in the main, is not, I believe, denied by any ; but the evangelical
preachers explain it in a different manner from what others do. By
others it is considered as a slight taint;—by them it is represented as a
deep pollution;—a total alienation of the heart from God, which is most
culpable, and wholly inexcusable, in his sight. So far is man, in a state
of nature, from loving God above all things, that there is scarcely any
thing which he does not prefer to God. To the majority of the world,
what duty is so irksome as that of prayer ? What day so wearisome as
the Sabbath What time so long as that which is spent at church 4
What books so uninteresting, as those which treat of religion?
“Besides this dislike and repugnance to the exercise of devotion, or,
in other words, to all manner of intercourse with God, there is, in fallen
man, a spirit of disobedience and rebellion against his Maker. It is true,
that many of the persons here described do fulfil various moral duties,
and so far obey his commands ; but they do not obey them because they
are his commands. Generally speaking, some motive of interest, plea-
sure, or vanity, of self-gratification of one kind or other, secretly influ-
ences them ; or if they do pay any regard to God at all, it is the fear
of his wrath which prompts them. They do not obey from a sincere
filial desire of pleasing him, but from dread of a power which they
know cannot be resisted. Such is man by nature, without any excep-
tion. This charge may be brought with as much justice against the de-
cent and moral, as against the vicious and profane. Nay, even the most
eminent Christians, though this is no longer their character, will most
readily acknowledge that it was once so. They can all of them remem-
698 MEMOIRs of
ber a time, when they were exactly in the condition here described. Now,
as God has repeatedly declared in Scripture, that he will on no account
admit into his presence those who are thus alienated from him, it follows
of course, that if we live and die in this state, we must perish for ever ;
or, to use our Saviour’s own words, ‘Except a man be born again, he
cannot enter into the kingdom of God,” John iii. 3. The change which
our Saviour alludes to in these words, is described in the Bible under a
great variety of figures and phrases, such as “being renewed (2 Cor. iv.
16. Ephes. iv. 23. Col. iii 10.) and sanctified (1 Cor. i. 2; vi. 11. Rom.
xv. 16.;) being adopted into the family of God (Rom. viii. 15. Gal. iv.
5, 6. Ephes. i. 5.;) being no longer under the law, but under grace (Rom.
vi. 14.;) having passed from death to life, (John v. 24. I John iii. 14.,)&c.
&c.; and St Paul expressly says, “If any man be in Christ, he is a new
creature ; old things have passed away, behold all things are become
new’ (2 Cor. v. 17.;) by which is plainly signified, not only that the
change must be great, but that it must be universal ; ‘that all things
must become new.”
“To describe, as plainly and distinctly as I can, wherein this change
consists, shall be the purport of the remainder of this letter. May God
grant that you, my dear Catherine, and every member of the family to
which we belong, may know by experience what it means ! for I must
again remind you, that unless such a change be made upon every one
of us at some period or other of our lives, we are assured by the Saviour
hº * That we cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven.” (John,
iii. 3.
“In describing this change, the first thing which I shall mention is,
that every true convert becomes much more sensible than he ever was
before, of his need of a Saviour. Though all are ready to acknowledge
themselves to be sinners, yet those who are in a state of nature are not
fully sensible of what St Paul calls ‘the exceeding sinfulness of sin” (Rom.
vii. 12.;) but divine grace opens our eyes in that respect, shows us our
deep depravity, humbles us in the very dust on account of our manifold
transgressions, and compels us to acknowledge there is justice in the
sentence which condemns us to everlasting punishment. For, to those
whose eyes are thus opened to behold their guilt and danger, the Gos-
pal becomes a joyful sound, and the Saviour is indeed precious. They
can enter into the meaning of St Paul’s words when he says, “That he
counts all things but loss that he may win Christ, and be found in him;
not having his own righteousness, which is of the law, but the righ-
teousness which is by faith in him.” (Philip. iii. 8, 9.) Instead of their
former apathy and indifference about religion, they delight in reading
about the Saviour—in thinking of him—in listening to those sermons -
of which he is the theme—and the chief desire, the most earnest wish
of their hearts, is, that they may be admitted to a further acquaintance,
and to an intimate union with him.”
After treating of the way of justification and the nature of true faith,
Miss Sinclair proceeds to show the tendency of the Gospel to produce
in the heart all the virtues and graces of the Christian life.
“But, first,” she remarks, “let me remind you, that sanctification
is a gradual work. The change I am describing, from sin to holiness,
from the love of the world to the love of God, is not instantaneous, “but
resenables the morning light, which shines more and more unto the per-
Miss SINCLAfr. * 699
fect day. (Prov. iv. 18.) An established Christian differs in many res-
pects from a young convert ; and, generally speaking, that difference is
in no respect more visible, than in their feelings and experience relative
to the pleasures of religion. A young convert is usually beset with
doubts, anxieties, and fears. He feels and knows himself to be a sin-
ner; is depressed by a sense of his own guilt and infirmities; and has
not yet learned to rejoice in Christ Jesus, and to cast all the burden of
his sins upon him. But, by degrees, more light is communicated to
his mind;—he perceives how God can be just, and yet the justifier of
him who believes in Jesus;–he applies all the promises of the Gospel
to himself;-he looks to Jesus, not merely as the Saviour of sinners,
but as his own Saviour; and believes, not merely that he died for man-
kind in general, but for himself in particular;—and thus he learns to look
forward to Heaven as ‘ his own certain portion and inheritance,” not for any
works of righteousness which he has done, but solely because he is
united by faith to the all-sufficient Saviour.
“Some perhaps may tell you, that this is not consistent with humil-
ity; but they mistake the nature of Christian humility, which does not
consist in believing that we are going to hell, but that we deserve to go
there. Who was ever more humble than St. Paul ? He disparages
himself in almost every page of his writings; yet he speaks of his own
salvation with the utmost confidence—expresses a wish to be ‘absent
from the body, that he might be present with the Lord’ (2 Cor. v. 8.)—
says, “That he had a desire to depart, and to be with Christ, which is
far better’ (Phil. i. 23.)—and “That to him to live is Christ, and to die
is gain.” (Phil. i. 21.) And he describes Christians in general, as those
“who rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh, or in
themselves' (Phil. iii. 3.)—plainly showing, that these two feelings are
no way inconsistent with each other. A criminal may believe himself
to be worthy of death ; yet, if he receives a pardon, he no longer fears
death. Thus it is with Christians—they believe themselves to be par-
doned for Christ’s sake. *
“It is true indeed, as I formely observed, that young converts do not
usually view things in this light; for faith, generally speaking, is a gra-
dual attainment. It is also true, that established Christians may have
their seasons of doubt and dejection ; but this is owing to the weakness
of their faith, and these seasons are their worst seasons. A variety of
circumstances also, such as nervous and other diseases, temptations, and
misfortunes of various sorts, may depress the spirits of Christians; but,
notwithstanding all these exceptions, for which due allowance should
be made, it is perfectly true, that the spirit of the Gospel is a spirit of
hope, peace, and joy, and that the ‘children of Zion are not only hum-
ble, but ‘joyful in their King.” (Psalm crlix. 2.”)
Another interesting illustration of the state of Miss Sinclair's mind,
is afforded by two prayers in her own hand-writing, which were not
found till a year and a half after her decease. They are here subjoined. .
•
..? Prayer.
“Ever blessed, and most adorable Lord God Almighty 1 Thou,
Lord, art the first and the last, the greatest and the best of Beings, the
King of kings, the Lord of lords, the blessed and only Potentate, who
alone hast immortality, who dwellest in light inaccessible, whom no
700 MEMOIRS OF
mortal eye hath seen, or can see, to whom be glory for ever and ever.
When I reflect on thine infinite Majesty, thy glorious perfections, and,
above all, on thy spotless purity, I may well be ashamed to approach
thee, or to take thy holy name into my polluted lips; but thou hast thy-
self assured us, that thou art the hearer of prayer, and thou hast com-
manded us to make our supplications unto thee. Encouraged, therefore,
by thine own declarations, and in obedience of thine own command, I
would now desire to pour out my soul before thee, and to entreat that
thou wouldst be merciful to me a sinner.
“When I look back on my past life, when I consider what I have
been, and compare it with what I ought to have been, I cannot but be
deeply sensible of my own guilt and unworthiness. Which of thy holy
commandments have I not broken, times and ways without number 1
I have done those things which I ought not to have done, and have
left undone those things which I ought to have done, and there is no
spiritual health in me. Woe, woe, is unto me, because I have sinned,
because I have so grievously offended thee But blessed, for ever bless-
ed, be thy holy name, there is mercy with thee, that thou mayest be
feared, and plenteous redemption, that thou mayest be sought unto.
Thou hast laid our help upon one who is mighty to save Oh! that
I may be enabled from the heart to renounce every false confidence,
and every refuge of lies, and to lay hold on the hope set before me in the
Gospel.
G& *move, I besech thee, every remaining doubt and perplexity
from my mind, and grant that I may rely on the Lord Jesus, and on
him only, for salvation, and for every spiritual blessing. For his sake
pardon, I beseech thee, my multiplied and aggravated transgressions;
and give me a just sense of the evil and demerit of sin, that I may in-
deed be humbled in the very dust before thee, and may have that ge-
muine repentance which needeth not to be repented of again. For his
sake I would also implore thee, that I may be renewed in the spirit of
my mind, after thy divine image. I would acknowledge before thee,
(oh, do thou make me more and more sensible of the important truth !)
that I am insufficient of myself, even to think a good thought; that all
my sufficiency is of thee. Oh I do thou create in me a clean heart, and
renew a right spirit within me. Make me in every respect such as
thou wouldst have me to be, and to thy thrice holy name be all the
Iſa.IS62.
prº, With respect to my future lot in this life, I would desire to resign
myself entirely to thy divine disposal. Do with me what thou wilt;
deprive me of what thou pleasest ; cross, in whatever manner seemeth
good unto thee, my foolish wishes and inclinations; only bestow on me
my daily bread, and a spirit of resignation and contentment. Enable
me to say to thee at all times from the heart, and with perfect sincerity,
* Not my will, but thine be done.”
“And that I may be enabled more cheerfully to confide in thy good-
mess, I would desire to recollect the many mercies I have received from
thee in the times that are past, and thankfully to acknowledge them
before thee. I would bless thee, oh, my God that ever since I had a
being, thou hast never ceased to provide, for all my wants, and to load
me with benefits; and that thy mercies have been continued to me eve-
ry night, and renewed very morning. Surely goodness and mercy have.
| MISS SINCLAIR. Z01
hitherto followed me all the days of my life, and thou hast often caus-
ed my cup to run over. Oh ! make me truly grateful to thee for all thy
mercies, and, above all, for thy spiritual mercies.
“I would bless thee, O my God I that thou hast not confined our
views to this vain and transitory scene, but hast taught and encourag-
ed us to hope for a state of perfect and endless happiness beyond the
grave. I would bless thee, that my ears have ever heard the joyful
sound of the Gospel. I would thank thee for all the opportunities of re-
ligious instruction I have enjoyed, especially for the encouragement thou
hast given me, to expect the gracious assistance of thy Holy Spirit, and,
above all, for thy unspeakable gift — That thou so lovedst a lost and
guilty world, as to give thine only and well-beloved Son, that whosoever
believeth on him might not perish, but have everlasting life. Oh, that
my very heart and soul, and all that is within me, might be stirred up
to bless and magnify thy holy name, for this transcendent instance of
Divine mercy; and that from a just and lively sense of infinite obligation,
I might henceforth endeavour to live to him who died for us.
“I would further desire, ere I conclude my address to thee, to re-
commend to thy favour and protection my kind and beloved friends, all
whom I am bound by any tie to pray for. Oh, do thou bless them in .
all their concerns; grant them as much worldly prosperity as is consis-
tent with their own best interests, and with the purposes of thy provi-
dence concerning them. Above all, grant that their souls may prosper,
that they may all of them be united to the Lord Jesus, and finally ad-
mitted into thy heavenly kingdom. I would pray for the prosperity of
my native land. I would thank thee for the invaluable privileges thou
hast bestowed upon it, and would earnestly implore a continuance of
them. I would also pray for the extension of the Redeemer’s kingdom,
that the glad tidings of salvation by Jesus may be sent to all the ends
of the earth, and that numbers may be daily added to the church, of
such as shall be saved.
“My humble prayers are before thee, O my God, and Father! Listen
to them graciously, I beseech thee, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake :
and to him, with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, I would desire to
join with angels and archangels, in ascribing glory, honour, and domi-
nion, henceforth, even for evermore. Amen.
Another Prayer.
“To thee, blessed Jesus, the eternal Son of God, and the Redeemer
of a lost and ruined world, would I now desire to look up, and most
humbly and earnestly to implore thy gracious aid.
“Thou hast assured us, that whosoever cometh unto thee, thou wilt
in nowise cast out; and that whosoever believeth on thee, shall not
perish, but have eternal life. Lord! help thou mine unbelief. I would
desire, in the first place, to adore that undeserved goodness, that
astonishing love, which led thee to forsake thy heavenly throne, to take
upon thee our nature, to fulfil in our stead all righteousness, leaving us
an example that we should follow thy steps; nay, to humble thyself
unto death, even the cursed death of the cross; to die that we might
live, to die in agonies which human nature shudders even to think of,
that we might escape the pains of hell for ever.
“Surely, if I have any feeling, any sense of gratitude in me, it ought
702. MEMOIRS OF
*
to be exerted in the very highest degree, when I reflect upon what thou
hast done and suffered for us sinners. Grant, I beseech thee, that thy
death and sufferings may not be in vain, as to me. Confirm, Lord, and
increase my faith, and bring every thought into captivity to the obe-
dience of thee. I would desire to accept of thee in all thy offices, as
thou art freely offered in the Gospel. As my Prophet, to believe
whatsoever thou hast revealed; as my Priest, to rely upon thee, and
thee only, for salvation, renouncing every other hope and confidence;
and, as my King, to submit to thy all-righteous laws. Oh, that thou
mightest be made of God unto me, wisdom, righteousness, sanctification,
and complete redemption
“Make me, I beseech thee, more and more sensible of my need of a
Saviour, and that thou art just such a Saviour as I need. Lord, save,
or I perish. Lord, have mercy, or I am all undone. I am a vile sin-
ner, deserving nothing at thy hands, but condemnation. But thou
didst descend from heaven to earth to seek and to save that which was
lost. Oh! that thou wouldst receive me—accept of me—bless me—take
me into the number of thy genuine disciples, of thy little flock; save
me, I beseech thee, from the guilt and the punishment, and also from
the power and dominion of sin. Enable me from henceforth to live to
thy praise, to be a Christian, not in name only, but in deed and in truth.
“Oh that thou wouldst manifest thyself unto me, as thou dost not
unto, the world. Show me thy glory. Fill my mind with joy and
peace in believing. Remove my doubts. Quiet my fears, console me
in adversity, meet me in thy ordinances, support me at all times. Nev-
er leave nor forsake me, and do to me and for me—exceedingly abund-
ântly above all that I can ask or think, and to thy thrice holy name be
everlasting praise. Amen.” -
In the month of January 1818, Miss Sinclair had been engaged in
Some visits of piety and benevolence, when she took fresh cold, which
produced an alarming aggravation of consumptive symptoms. The
flattering nature of the disease might probably have led her not to an-
ticipate that death was quite so near as it proved to be. But the tran-
quillity, resignation, and devotedness of her mind, testified how ready
she was to depart, whenever it should please her heavenly Father to
call her home. It had been a favourite sentiment with her, “that a
lingering is better than a sudden death, as it gives the real Christian an
opportunity of doing good to others, by the example of resignation and
piety.” Her wish was gratified, and she did not fail to avail herself of
the opportunity thus afforded, of edifying those around her. A younger
sister one day lamented that her sufferings were so great. She replied:
“I would cheerfully suffer it all over again, that you might enjoy the
same consolation from religion in the same circumstances.” This gave
rise to a conversation on the impossibility of any sufferings of ours pro-
curing, for ourselves or others, either temporal or spiritual benefit, and
the necessity of the anguish which Christ endured on our account. Her
uncommon patience struck every one. When it was noticed that she ne-
wer complained, she said: “It would be a wonder if I were not patient,
when I have so many mercies to be thankful for.” After lingering
for about four months of gradual decay, she expired, without the least
struggle, on the 22d of May, 1818, in the thirty-ninth year of her age.
MISS SINCLAIR 703
A few minutes before her death, a faithful and pious servant, who was
her constant attendant, asked her, if she should turn her. “No,” was
the reply, “I am so comfortable and happy, I had better remain as I
am.” She then appeared to be sinking in sleep, but it was presently
discovered that the spirit had fled, leaving on her placid and serene
countenance an emblem of the inward peace she experienced.
M. R. S. MARY FILE T C H E R.
SoME of the brightest examples of ardent and ecstatic piety, of purity,
self-denial, and benevolence, are to be found in the lives of devout mem-
bers of the corrupt Church of Rome. With defective views of the Gos-
pel, many of the Mystics, in párticular, have exhibited, both in their writ-
ings and in their lives, more of the true spirit of apostolic Christianity,
than is often found associated with more accurate sentiments and clearer
notions in those who enjoy the meridian light of truth. There is a
warmth of temperament, however, discovered in their writings, and a
certain foreign cast of sentiment, which do not exactly comport with the
fastidious taste of modern days, and the cold sobriety of English Protes-
tants. Yet, in Madame de Guion, with whose name Cowper has made
us familiar, and in other admirable persons of the same stamp, what
pious reader can fail to recognise a living portrait of genuine Christi-
anity ? True religion is essentially the same in every age, in every
latitude, and under all the modifications which it undergoes from nation-
al or individual character.
The piety of the more eminent among the early English Methodists
bore, in many respect, a striking resemblance to that which is displayed
in the lives and writings of the persons to whom we have alluded. It
was characterized by an enthusiasm which we are never surprised to
meet with in the votaries and victims of superstition or a false religion,
but which the true religion is too seldom found to inspire ; although a
rightly directed enthusiasm, where the object is real and intrinsically
excellent, is the mark of an elevated and noble mind. There was, on
some points of doctrine, an approximation, perhaps, in Methodism, to
the tenets of the class to whom Madame de Guion may be considered
as belonging ; while its internal discipline was partly borrowed from
that of a foreign religious communion. Altogether, that which struck
the superficial as most strange and repulsive in Methodism, partly arose
from its grafting the ardour and zeal of Roman Catholic piety on the
Protestant faith. It introduced no innovation in doctrine, nor did
it necessarily lead to any wider departure from the National Church
in discipline, than had been tolerated by the Church of Rome her-
self, in the case of the monastic orders. But for men to become
earnest in their religion, is generally considered as amounting to a
change of their religion, although not one tenet of their creed should
undergo any alteration.
We have made these preliminary remarks, in reference to the subject
of this Memoir, because, in order rightly to appreciate the character of
Mrs. Fletcher, who was so distinguished a member of Mr. Wesley’s
community, it is necessary to have some general idea of the circum-
stances which contributed to give a peculiarity to her phraseology, and
a singularity to her actions. She was altogether an extraordinary per-
son. Endowed with a strong understanding, great decision of charac-
MRS, FLETCHER. 705
ter, and simplicity of mind, heroic zeal, and unbounded benevolence,—
in the apostolic age, she would have been a Priscilla, and have taken her
rank among the presbyteresses or female confessors of the primitive
church. She had all the spirit of a martyr. Had she been born within
the Romish communion, she would probably have been enrolled among
the saints of the Calendar. In this country, the community to which
she attached herself, alone afforded a sphere suited to the energies of
her character, which might otherwise have remained dormant, because,
under ordinary circumstances, zeal such as hers could hardly have been
developed. Among Protestants, enthusiasm like hers is apt to be re-
garded as the worst of heresies.
Mary Bosanquet (for that was her maiden name) was born at Lay-
tonstone, in the county of Essex, Sept. i. (O. S.) 1739. Her parents
were members of the Church of England; but they do not appear to
have paid any particular attention to the religious education of their
children, or to have been qualified to instruct them in religion, further
than teaching them the Church Catechism. When only five years old,
she began to feel much concerned about her eternal welfare, and fre-
quently inquired of those about her, whether such and such things were
sins. On Sabbath evenings, in particular, after repeating the catechism
to her father, she would ask for explanations of passages of Scripture
which perplexed her, and put questions relative to religious subjects,
which were often lightly treated; and thus her mind was left to feel
after the truth she indistinctly perceived. “ I wished to know,” she in-
forms us, “whether any one ever did love God with all their heart, and
their neighbours as themselves; and whether it was really the com-
mand of God, that we should do so; also, if the Bible really meant all
it said. It seemed to me that, if it did, I was wrong, and all about me
in danger; for there appeared to be a great difference between the des-
cription of a Christian given in the word of God, and those who walk
under that name.” She was told, that the texts of Scripture which
impressed her mind, are very liable to be mistaken, and do not require
obedience in all the strictness which she supposed. This injudicious
answer silenced her convictions at the moment; but it could not, in the
nature of things, satisfy the anxiety which had been awakened in her
mind. “Often,” she says, “I thought, Perhaps the Bible does mean
what it says, and then I am not a Christian ; and greatly did I desire
to know the truth.” Her sister also, who was nearly five years older,
was, at the same time, under serious impressions of religion. Judicious
parental instruction, at this season, would have been of incalculable ad-
vantage to the young inquirers; or had they heard, at the parish church,
the doctrines of the Gospel evangelically stated and enforced, they
would not so long have remained ignorant of the first principles of
Christianity. We shall again avail ourselves of Mrs. Fletcher’s own
words, in giving an account of this period of her life.
“About this time there came a servant maid to live with my father,
who had heard of, and felt some little of the power of inward religion.
It was among the people called Methodists, she had received her instruc-
tions. Seeing the uneasiness my sister was under, she took some op-
portunities of conversing with her. I was at this season with my grand-
mother. On my return home, my sister repeated the substance of
these conversations to me. I well remember the very spot we stood on,
89
706 MEMOIRS OF
and the words she spake, which, though we were but a few minutes
together, sunk so deeply into my heart, that they were never afterward
erased. My reflections were suited to a child not seven years old. I
thought, if I became a Methodist, I should be sure of salvation ; and
determined, if ever I could get to that people, whatever it cost, I would
be one of them. But after a few conversations, and hearing my sister
read some little books which this servant had given to her, I found out,
it was not the being joined to any people, that would save me, but I
must be converted, and have faith in Christ ; that I was to be saved by
believing; and that believing would make me holy, and give me a pow-
er to love and serve God.
“The servant had now left our family, and we continued like blind
persons, groping our way in the dark ; yet, though we had so far dis-
cerned the truth as to express it in the above manner, I could not com-
prehend it. My heart rose against the idea of being saved by a faith
which I could not understand. One day, looking over the pictures in
the Book of Martyrs, I thought it would be easier to burn than to be-
lieve, and heartily did I wish that the Papists would come and burn me,
and then I thought I should be quite safe. Yet these troubled thoughts
were mixed with a degree of hope. I thought, God does love me, I
believe, after all; and, perhaps, he will show me what it is to believe
and be converted.
“When I was between seven and eight years old, musing one day
on that thought, What can it be to know my sins forgiven, and to have
faith in Jesus 7 I felt my heart rise against God, for having appointed
a way of salvation so hard to be understood; and with anguish of soul I
said, if it were to die a martyr, I could do it; or to give away all I have ;
or, when grown up, to become a servant, that would be easy, but I shall
never know how to believe.”
At this moment, according to her own account, a couplet of a hymn,
which she had probably met with in one of the books belonging to the
servant, occurred to her mind as a direct solution of her difficulty. A
ray of light seemed to fall upon her mind, and she with joy embraced
what she now discerned to be God’s method of redemption. I was sur-
prised,” she says, “that I could not find this out before.” These
hymns appear to have taken a strong hold of her memory ; they were
identified with her earliest religious feelings ; and it is not surprising,
therefore, that they should have given a permanent bias to her views,
and endeared to her a certain cast of phraseology.
The want of proper religious instruction continued to be a great dis-
advantage to her. She relapsed into a state of melancholy, which, to
her parents, had the appearance of unamiable sullenness. They
were at loss to know what had come to her ; and had they been aware
of the source of her secret uneasiness, they would have been unable to
sympathize in what they would have regarded as her unreasonable anx-
ieties. Miss Bosanquet was assailed, like many half-informed novices
in the faith, with the distressing apprehension that she had blasphemed
against the Holy Ghost. The idea haunted her for several weeks, till,
on disclosing her fears to her sister, she drew forth the very natural and
pertinent appeal, “Why, you do not mean to blaspheme, do you ?”
Startled at the question, she inwardly replied, “Lord, thou knowest, I
do not mean to blaspheme ;” and thus she was relieved by being led to
MRS. FLETCHER. 707
perceive that involuntary thoughts, which, when suggested to the mind,
are immediately rejected with abhorrance, can never partake of the cha-
racter of wilful sin ; much less can the workings of even the unrenew-
ed heart expose the individual to the awful doom of those who, by their
malignant rejection of the miraculous evidence of the Gospel, blas-
phemed against the Spirit of God. It is quite certain, that nothing short
of an obstinate disbelief of Christianity itself, or an apostacy from a
religious profession, can be included in the awful sin which, as it is
followed by no repentance, leaves no hope of pardon.
Miss Bosanquet now began to derive considerable pleasure from the
perusal of the holy Scriptures, especially from the promises of the Old
Testament. She had, however, no one to direct her reading ; and a
remark one day casually heard, to this effect, that many people take
promises to themselves which do not belong to them, threw her into
fresh perplexity, and destroyed, for the time, all her relish for the Bible,
as she could not tell what she might or might not appropriate to herself.
Little, probably, did the individual imagine, who made the observation,
(which, properly understood, is not an incorrect one,) that he was by
that means unsettling the mind of a child not yet twelve years of age.
Soon after this, she accompanied her parents to Bath for three months.
“Here,” she tells us, “I met with many dissipations, and had no
enjoyment of religion. Only, when in the midst of the ball-room, I
used to think, If I knew where to find the Methodists, or any who would
show me how to please God, I would tear off all my fine things, and
run through the fire to them. And sometimes I thought, If ever I am
my own mistress, I will spend half the day in working for the poor, and
the other half in prayer.” This was the thought of a child, but of an
extraordinary child ; and the piety which dictated it, was not the less
genuine because it was associated with inexperience. -
When she was about thirteen, her sister, one day, on returning from
a visit, announced as a joyful discovery, that the lady she had been to
see was a Methodist. Of this, it seems, Mr. and Mrs. Bosanquet had
no suspicion ; and thus the two young ladies were allowed to come into
contact, at this friend's house, with religious society, which did not,
however, quite answer the fond and sanguine expectations they had
raised. In this lady, they nevertheless found a valuable friend. But,
although Miss Bosanquet was by this means improving in religious
knowledge, it appears from her own confession, that she was far from
having her heart brought as yet under the practical influence of the
Gospel. Here, again, her character suffered from the want of parental
discipline and competent religious instruction. “In general,” says Mrs.
Fletcher, “I was greatly under the power of my own will. Pride and
perverseness got many times the upper hand, and there was nothing in
my life and conversation which could adorn the Gospel; but I did not
then see my conduct in that light. Alas! I thought I walked as a
Christian ; but now I see so much more of the holiness of God, I als;
discern more fully the depth of my fall, and am astonished that eith’
God or man bore with me. While the carnal mind retained this powº,
I do not wonder my dear mother should not love me as the rest of er
children; for I was not only more dull and indolent in every thing Iºad
to learn, but I gave way to an insolent and disobedient spirit in s h a
degree towards the whole family, that the recollection has often semed
708 MEMOIRS OF
to draw blood from my heart.” Who is there but must admire the in-
genuousness of this instructive confession 4 At the same time, it holds
9ut a warning to young professors, especially to those who are placed by
Providence in similar circumstances, and surrounded by irreligious con-
mexions, not to mistake the reproach or persecution occasioned by their
own indiscreet or unamiable deportment, for the reproach of Christ.
There is nothing in which young converts are more apt to be wanting,
than in respectful and winning conduct to those whom they regard as
less enlightened than themselves. It is evident, that Miss Bosanquet's
views of religion were at this time very defective; and as we cannot
doubt her sincerity, much must be attributed to youthful inexperience
and the want of wholesome religious instruction.
When she was about sixteen, her elder sister was married, and she
was thus deprived of her only religious companion. Up to this time,
she informs us, their parents entertained little suspicion of their having
any intercourse with the Methodists; imagining, when the servant be-
fore-mentioned was turned away, and the books taken from them, that
their religious impressions had worn off. But “I now,” she adds, “ saw
the time was come, when I must confess Christ before men.” The first
occasion which presented itself, respected going to the theatre. She
consulted some of her serious friends on the point, who replied: “Were
you older, we should know what to advise; but, as you are but sixteen, if
your parents insist on your going, we do not see how you can avoid it.”
This answer did not satisfy her ; it only increased her perplexity and
distress. “I saw,” she says, “the duty I owed to an absolute command
from my parents in a very strong light; and, on the other hand, I re-
membered that my obedience to them was to be—in the Lord. I sought
direction in prayer, and endeavoured to examine on both sides; but the
more I searched, the clearer it appeared to me I must not comply. I
considered the playhouse had a tendency to weaken, every Christian
temper, and to strengthen all that was contrary; to represent vice under
the false colour of virtue, and to lead in every respect into the spirit of the
world, of which the apostle declares, The friendship of this world is enmity
with God. When the time came, and my obedient compliance was re-
qired, I begged to be left at home. On a refusal, I laid open my whole
heart to my father; apprising him, I would not willingly be disobedient
in any thing, unless where conscience made it appear to be my duty.
We conversed on the subject with great freedom; for my dear father
was a man of deep reason, calmness, and condescension. He replied:
* Child, your arguments prove too much, and therefore, are not conclu-
sive. If what you say be true, then all places of diversion, all dress
and company, nay, all agreeable liveliness, and the whole spirit of the
world, are sinful.” I embraced the opportunity, and said, ‘Sir, I see it
as such, and therefore am determined no more to be conformed to its
, customs, fashions, or maxims.” This was a season of great trial, but the
Lord stood by me: glory be to his holy name !”
A. Much opposition was excited by this declaration of her sentiments;
ut, upon the whole, her parents seem to have treated her with much
kndness. In the summer of 1757, they went to Scarborough, when Mrs.
Banquet offered to take her daughter with them, if she would do as
th" did, and not bring a reproach on them in a strange place. On
heldeclining to promise such compliance, she was left behind under

MRS. FLETCHER. 709
the care of an uncle in London, where she had much liberty. “I had
never before,” she says, “had the opportunity of a constant attendance
on the means of grace; and one of my acquaintance being imprudent,
pressed me never to be absent from any meeting or preaching. By this
means, I am sensible I went too far. I walked about more than my
strength could bear, having been scarcely ever permitted to go out of
our own grounds but in a carriage. But, above all, I am pained when
I think how little of Christian prudence appeared in my conduct. The
kind family in which I was received, could not but blame and condemn
a conduct which, though the motive was upright, was in itself some-
times wrong.” The consequence of this imprudent conduct was, that,
by the over-exertion of her strength, as well as by the constant state of
excitation in which her mind was kept, she was thrown into a low ner-
vous fever, accompanied with great depression, which was naturally
laid to the account of her religion; and thus the prejudices of her
parents were strengthened.
She was about nineteen years of age, when she was led to take the
still more decided and offensive step of adopting a distinguishing plain-
ness of dress as a badge of nonconformity to the world. The courage
and decision which she manifested in thus following out her principles,
must be admired, however mistaken were her views. Unfortunately,
the only religious acquaintance which, left to herself during her stay in
London, she had been able to cultivate, appear to have been pious wo-
men of the lower classes and of contracted minds. Simplicity and
unostentatious plainness in dress well become women professing godli-
ness; but these may be observed without affecting singularity, or draw-
ing down the notice of others. The duty of making one's person
disagreeable to the world by an affected quaintness of dress, is one which
is purely imaginary; nor is it any effectual fence, as Miss Bosanquet
was led to suppose, against the spirit of the world. At this time, she
had resolved, moreover, not to think of a married life, wishing to be
wholly given up to the church. Had she lived in a Roman Catholic
country, she would probably have taken the veil.
At length, it became mutually desirable that she should be separated
from her family. She was now twenty-one, and had a small fortune
of her own; and was herself contemplating some step of the kind,
when one day her father said to her : “There is a particular promise
which I require of you ; that is, that you will never, on any occasion,
either now or hereafter, attempt to make your brothers what you call a
Christian.” On her replying, “I think, sir, I dare not consent to that ;”
he added, “Then you force me to put you out of my house.” Her re-
ply was: “Yes, sir, according to your view of things, I acknowledge
it; and if I may but have your approval, no situation will be disagree-
able.” Her father remarked, that there were many things in her pres-
ent situation which must be very uncomfortable to her; which she ac-
knowledged, adding, that if he would but say that he approved of her
removing, she would take a lodging directly, but that no suffering
should induce her to leave him except by his free consent. ... He replied,
with some emotion: “I do not know that you have ever disobliged me
wilfully in your life, but only in these fancies; and my children shall
always have a home in my house.” Miss Bosanquet thought it prudent,
however, to provide herself with a lodging and a female servant, against
710 * MEMOIRS OF
any sudden occasion for removing ; and on her informing her mother
of the step she had taken, Mrs. Bosanquet gave her two beds, and ap-
peared to approve of her intention. “Something, however,” she says,
“seemed to hold us, on both sides, from bringing it to a point.” What
followed must be given in her own words.
“For the next two months I suffered much : my mind was exercised
with many tender and painful feelings. One day, my mother sent me
word, I must go home to my lodgings that night. I went down to
dinner, but they said nothing on the subject; and I could not begin it.
The next day, as I was sitting in my room, I received again the same
message. During dinner, however, nothing was spoken on the sub-
ject. When it was over, I knew not what to do. I was much distress-
ed. I thought, if they go out without saying any thing to me, I cannot
go; and if they should not invite me to come and see them again, how
shall I bear it! My mind was pressed down with sorrow by this suspense.
Just as they were going out, my mother said, If you will, the coach,
when it has set us down, may carry you home to your lodging.’ My
father added, “And we shall be glad to see you to dinner next Tues-
day.” This was some relief. I remained silent. When the coach re-
turned, I ordered my trunk into it; and struggling with myself, took a
kind leave of each of the servants, as they stood in a row in tears, in
my way out of the house. About eight o’clock I reached my lodging.
“It consisted of two rooms, as yet unfurnished. I had neither can-
dle, nor any convenience. The people of the house I had never seen
before ; only I knew them by character to be sober persons. I borrow-
ed a table and a candlestick, and the window seat served me as a
chair. When bolting my door, I began to muse on my present situation.
“I am, said I, but young—only entered into my twenty-second year.
I am cast out of my father’s house. I know the heart of a stranger;
but, alas ! how much more of it may I yet have to prove . I cried unto
the Lord, and found a sweet calm overspread my spirit. I could in a
measure act faith on these words:—When thy father and thy mother for-
sake thee, the Lord shall take thee up. The following reflections also
arose in my mind. I am now exposed to the world, and know not
what snares may be gathering around me. I have a weak understand-
ing, and but little grace. Therefore, now, before any snare has en-
tangled me, I shall form a plan for my future conduct, and endeavour
to walk thereby. First, I will not receive visits from single men, and in
order to evade the trial more easily, I will not get acquainted with any;
I will, as much as possible, refrain from going into any company where
they are. Secondly, I will endeavour to lay out my time by rule, that
I may know each hour what is to be done; nevertheless, I will cheer-
fully submit to have these rules broken or overturned, whenever the
providence of God thinks fit so to do. And thirdly, I will endeavour
to fix my mind on the example of Jesus Christ, and to lead a mortified
life; remembering, He came not to be ministered unto, but to minister.
“The prejudices of education are strong, especially in those persons
who have been brought up rather in high life. The being removed
from a parent's habitation, seemed very awful. I looked on myself as
being liable to a deep reproach, and trembled at the thought. But I
remembered that word, He that loveth father or mother more than me, is
not worthy of me.
MRS. FLETCHER. 711
“My maid being now come, and having lighted a fire in the other
room, and borrowed a few things of the family, she begged me to come
into it, as the night was very cold. And now my captivity seemed turning
every moment. That thought, I am brought out from the world, I have
nothing to do but to be holy, both in body and spirit, filled me with consola-
tion. Thankfulness overflowed my heart: and such a spirit of peace and
content poured into my soul, that all about me seemed a little heaven.
“Some bread, with rank salt butter, and water to drink, made me so
comfortable a meal, that I could truly say, I ate my meat “with glad-
ness and singleness of heart.” As the bed was not put up, I lay that
night almost on the ground ; and the windows having no shutters,
and it being a bright moonlight night, the sweet solemnity thereof well
agreed with the tranquillity of my spirit. I had now daily more and
more cause for praise. I was acquainted with many of the excellent
of the earth, and my delight was in them. Yet was I not without nly
cross, for every time I went to see my dear parents, what I felt when,
towards night, I rose up to go away, cannot well be imagined. Not
that I wished to abide there; but there was something in bidding fare-
well to those under whose roof I had always lived, that used to affect
me much, though I saw the wise and gracious hand of God in all, and
that He had by this means set me free for his own service. From my
heart I thanked Him as the gracious Author, and them as the profita-
ble instruments of doing me so great a good. My mother was frequent-
ly giving me little things; and every renewed mark of kindness made
the wound to bleed afresh.”
It is more than probable that, notwithstanding the language her
father used, that he must put her out of his house, he would not have
proceeded to execute his threat, had not his daughter adopted the step
she did; which, though intended as a precaution, was, in fact, taking
upon herself the responsibility of the separation. It was certainly a
most ill-advised, though well-intentioned measure on her part. She
could have no reason to fear being literally and suddenly expelled from
her home; and it may well be questioned whether any thing short of
expulsion, could justify a daughter scarcely of age, in withdrawing her-
self from the protection of her parents. It would at least have been
their province to find her an asylum. Still she acted upon principle, and,
no doubt, in the spirit of the same faith, though without the warrant
of the same command, which led Abraham to go out from his father's
house, “not knowing whither he went.”
Miss Bosanquet now joined herself entirely to the Wesleyan commu-
nity, giving up her whole time to religious exercises, and scarcely allow-
ing herself, out of her income, enough to supply her with the necessaries
of life. But her father still kept his eye upon her; and one day, when
her state of health rendered it particularly seasonable, he called in his
chariot, and brought her a hamper of Port wine. It was at first sup-
posed that she would be tired of the exchange of life to which she had
exposed herself, and be wearied out by her privations; but she seems
never to have been shaken for a moment in the firmness of her resolu-
tions, nor to have repented of the change. “I have the gospel,” she
would say to herself; “I have freedom to serve God; I have spiritual
blessings: what more can I need P’ Such constancy and fortitude in so
young a person, must have excited admiration; and many who disap-
712 MEMOIRS OF
proved of her conduct, must have envied her the happiness she evidently
enjoyed. "
In the year. 1762, after having resided for about two years in her first
lodgings at Hoxton, Miss Bosanquet felt a strong anxiety awakened in
her mind, to make herself useful in her native village, Layton-stone.
Many reasons rendered her removal to that place desirable, and a house
of her own becoming untenanted, she resolved on occupying it. Fear-
ing, however, lest her parents, who had permitted her to be often with
them, and seemed reconciled to her manner of life while at a distance
from them, should resent her bringing the preachers within a mile of their
house, she prudently made known to her father, in the first instance,
her intention and her object. He made not the least objection, only
saying with a smile, “If a mob should pull your house about your ears,
I cannot hinder them.” On this occasion, and on many others, her
mind appears to have been strongly influenced by very impressive and
extraordinary dreams; the recital of which, together with the stress laid
upon them, has, more than any other circumstance, perhaps, exposed
Mrs. Fletcher to the charge of enthusiasm and weakness. Her vera-
city, however, will not be called in question ; and in whatever way we
account for such dreams, whether they are regarded as the natural re-
sult of the workings of her own mind, or as having a supernatural
origin, their only effect appears to have been, to animate and encourage
her in pursuing the plans she had deliberately adopted; not by any
means to originate any chimerical scheme, or to mislead her judgments
The same remark applies to the stress she would attach to particular
texts of Scripture, when they happened appositely to present themselves
as if by an outward suggestion. Such a practice opens the way to very
dangerous delusion, and is but a little removed from the Bible-divina-
tion of the dark ages, which consisted in opening the Bible at random,
and taking the first words which met the eye as an oracle. In Miss
Bosanquet’s case, however, though it showed that she was extremely
uninformed, as well as in that of her immediate friends, these impres-
sions appear to have been in uniform and happy coincidence with the
rational dictates of their understanding. She removed to Layton-
stone in 1763, where she speedily established a public religious meeting
on Thursday evenings, and obtained, on the Sunday, the assistance of
one of Mr. Wesley's preachers. Within a fortnight, she had a religious
society formed of twenty-five persons. It was a lone house, and they
were at first exposed to disturbance and insult from the mob; but they
never met with any serious outrage or alarm.
The education of children was the next object which occupied Miss
Bosanquet’s attention. She had determined to take none but destitute
orphans, that no one might have any right to control or interrupt her
plans ; and it was not long before six eligible objects presented them-
selves, whom she received into her house “in the name of the Lord.”
Others were afterwards taken in, and it became necessary to provide a
governess over this increasing family. Some pious women, also, were
added to the household, who had each her duties and employments as-
signed her. And thus the rude idea was realized of a Protestant nun-
mery. Miss Bosanquet's model appears, however, to have been, the
Orphan-house at Halle in Germany, raised by Professor Francke. Her
own account of this singular establishment is as follows:—

MRS. FLETCHER. 713
*
“In the whole, we received thirty-five children, and thirty-four grown
persons, but not all at one time. We now found work enough on our
hands, and wished to free ourselves from all needless cares. As well,
therefore, to answer that end, as to avoid conformity to the world, we
thought it best to have but one dress. We fixed on a dark purple cotton,
of which we had many pieces stamped; and ourselves, with the whole
family, wore nothing else. We had a large hall, and in it a table five
yards long, at which we ate together. There also we assembled for
morning and evening devotion, and on several other occasions. But,
in general, the children were in the nursery, and the other sisters in
their own apartments. When my family began thus to increase, I must
acknowledge it was by no means proportionate to my income ; but it
appeared to me I had a peculiar call from the Lord to take the steps I
did. This plan I would advise no one to follow, unless they felt what
I did; for certainly justice goes before charity, and there is very seldom
a real call from God to give more than we have. But it must be ob-
served, though my income was inadequate to the undertaking, I had a
considerable capital; so that I was not at present in danger of debt.
The risk I ran, was, of spending my capital, and being left without a
maintenance.
“As most of our children were naked, full of vermin, and some
afflicted with distempers, the first thing was to clean and clothe them,
and attend to their health ; which usually was followed with much
success. At the same time, we endeavoured to bring them to an out-
ward conformity of manners with the rules of our house, and to some
courtesy of behaviour. This was not difficult, as a child naturally falls
in with what it sees in others. The second attempt was to fix on their
minds, that we had no motives in receiving them into our house, but
that of love ; love to their souls and bodies. We wished to save their
bodies from misery, and their souls from eternal destruction.
“As we intended them to work for their bread, either as servants, or
in little trades, we endeavoured, as early as possible, to inure them to
labour, early rising, and cleanliness. The eldest of the children arose
between four and five, the younger not much later. At half an hour
after six, we had family prayer. At seven, we breakfasted together on
herb tea, or milk porridge. The small children then went into the
garden till eight. At eight, the bell rang for school, which continued till
twelve. Then, after a few minutes spent in prayer, they came down to
us; at which time we either walked out with them, or, if the weather
did not permit, we found them some employment in the house, endea-
vouring at the same time to give them both instruction and recreation.
We invented various employments for those hours, in order to remove the
appearance of idleness, as from the first we endeavoured to impress that
lesson on their minds—‘An idle person is the devil’s cushion, on which
he rolls at pleasure.” Likewise, that in the choice of their employments,
they should always prefer those that are most useful, and be always able
to render a reason for every thing they did. At one we dined; about
two the bell rang again for school; and at five they returned to us, and
were employed as before till supper time. Then, after family prayer,
they were washed, and put to bed by eight. Four or five of the bigger
girls were each week kept out of the school by turns, and employed in
house-work, cooking, &c., that they might be accustomed to every
•
9
714 TMEMOIRS OF
sort of business: and there was work enough in so large a family. Se-
veral of the children were very young, though I do not remember we
had any under two years, except one of about a month old, ‘which
was laid, very neatly dressed one night late at our door; but it lived
only a fortnight, being full of humours, too probably derived from its
parents.
We now found great need of wisdom and patience. We had, I think,
never more than ten grown persons in the family at one time, who
were not invalids; nor do I ever remember above five or six altogeth-
er in health. The children also, for the first few years, laboured un-
der various disorders; for we did not refuse either old or young, on ac-
count of being sick and helpless : in the end, all recovered who came
in infirm. We sometimes had much to do, for the care of the sick, the
management of eighteen or twenty children, with various meetings,
and the needful attention to the work of God in a new-raised society,
with the reception of a number of strangers who visited us on spiritual
accounts, occasioned those of us who had the work of God at heart, a
good deal of labour and suffering.”
Such an institution could not fail to be assailed with a variety of vul-
gar and impertinent animadversions. It was reported, that the children
were intended to be brought up for nuns. Some hollow religionists
were found to object that the plan was “all carnal wisdom.” Others
had the baseness to reproach its disinterested founder with idleness,
because she lived on the interest of her capital, and did not attempt to
increase her income by trade; and not a few predicted her being reduc-
ed to penury. “Indeed,” says Mrs. Fletcher herself, “it appeared a
strange call, and humanly speaking, could end no way but in a prison.”
But a strong confidence in the providential blessing and assistance of
God, sustained her mind under gathering discouragements and perplex-
ities. Being compelled to embark in expensive repairs, it occurred to
her, as many visitants were continually coming to the house, to put up
a poor's box in the hall, after the example of Professor Francke. This
soon began to afford assistance; and an uncle of Miss Bosanquet's,
one expensive year, made her a present of two hundred and fifty
guineas. -
In the year 1766, Miss Bosanquet was deprived of both her parents.
It is pleasing to find, from her own narrative, that they had previously
become reconciled to their daughter, and convinced of the purity of her
Intentions.
“My father,” she tells us, “had along and painful illness of three
years; and my mother lived but nine months after. I was now per-
mitted to be a good deal with them. One day, my dear honoured fa-
ther spoke to me with great tenderness concerning some of my former
trials, and expressed much sorrow that my fortune was not left as much
in my power as that of the other children;—saying, “If you desire it,
I will alter my will now. But your uncle knows my mind; and if you
marry a man to make you happy, it is all I wish. I do not care whether
he has money or not. But, whether you marry or not, you ought to
have your fortune as well as the rest. If you desire it, I will have it
so altered:’—with many more expressions of paternal affection, which,
though I do not think it proper to insert them here, will ever have a
place in my heart. I begged him to make himself quite easy, and not
MRS. FLETCHER. 715
to attempt the alteration of any thing, as I saw it must greatly disturb
his peace, for several reasons. I assured him I saw myself safe in the
hands of my Heavenly Father, and knew I should never want any
thing that was for my good; and that if I was favoured with seeing
the salvation of his soul, I had no more to ask: God would take care
of me. I was led thus to speak. From what he had said to me, how-
ever, I had expected to find in his will far less than he had really given
Iſle. *
“Immediately after the death of my father, my dear mother entered
into her last illness. I found much love to her, and of consequence
much pain. . She expressed a tender kindness towards me during her
illness, and showed her tender care, by augmenting the sum my father
had left me.”
In June 1768, for reasons which are not very clearly assigned, Miss
Bosanquet came to the resolution to dissolve the establishment at Lay-
tonstone, and to remove with her family, now consisting of thirty per-
sons, to Guildersome in Yorkshire. The ostensible motives were, the
declining health of her friend, the matron of the establishment, which
required change of air, and the wish to make some internal changes in
her household. But neither of these seems to afford a satisfactory ex-
planation of the step. Possibly, they found themselves inconvenienced
through the influx of visitors, and wished to retire to a greater distance
from the metropolis. It is hinted, that there were difficulties which a
change of situation promised to put it in her power to remedy. The
cheapness of living in Yorkshire was probably what led her to remove
to so great a distance. Her friend survived the removal only about two
months. .
And now, deprived of the active services of this adopted sister and
chosen colleague, who had been the mainspring in all the arrange-
ments of the establishment, and the efficient manager of the domestic
economy, Miss Bosanquet found herself exposed to much fatigue and
many perplexities, and her health began to fail. “My family,” she
says, “now consisted of thirty persons, of whom some were rather un-
ruly. I saw the need of taking the reins into my own hands, and sup-
plying the place of my friend Ryan. But this determination was very
difficult to execute ; and I daily and hourly felt my insufficiency.
While she was alive, I considered her as a mother, and, like the other
young women, desired her to allot me my rules and employments, or, at
least, to assist me in the choice of them. While I lived in my father’s
house, I saw very little of domestic affairs, because we lived rather
high ; so that I was quite a stranger to that kind of management need-
ful for a great family who have but little to live on. Besides, the man
ner of life here was entirely different from what I had been used to
about London. Here wheat was to be bought to make flour; bread to
be made, cows to be managed, men servants to be directed; with a
variety of particulars in housekeeping quite new to me. Had my
friend been spared, all this would havé been a pleasure ; but now, my
spirits were so depressed, every thing appeared a burden;—and when I
had provided as well as I could, some persons in my family would de-
spisingly say, my victuals were not worth eating, and that I knew not
how to order any thing. I had frequently letters from distant parts,
some pitying, some upbraiding me ; and informing me at the same
716 MEMOIRS OF
time, “The stories which we hear carried about concerning you, come
all from the members of your own family.’” . The patience and for:
bearance with which this excellent woman endured this base-minded
discontent and ingratitude, is not the least striking trait of her
character.
A farm, with a freehold estate adjoining, in which were malt-kilns,
a small house, and many out-buildings, now presented itself, which she
was advised to purchase; but it was necessary to build a larger house
for the family. This, together with the purchase of the freehold, and
the stocking of the farm, required more than the whole of Miss Bosan-
quet's disposable capital, and she was obliged to mortgage. For a
time, the malt-kilns answered very well, and the farm promised fair.
A sphere of usefulness too appeared to open in the neighbourhood.
Their Wednesday night meetings were well attended, and, at length,
grew so numerous, for the people began to come from many miles
round, that it became necessary to advise those who were able, to gather
meetings of the same kind near their own homes. “This was attend-
ed,” it is stated, “with many blessings. We sometimes visited those
infant meetings, and they increased and spread as well as ours.” “I
shall ever adore,” says Mrs. Fletcher, “the wisdom of God in bringing
me down to settle in Yorkshire. It was good for the work of God ; it
was good for my own soul; but, for a season, it did not appear good
for my temporal affairs. I had not been seven years there, before I saw
myself brought into great perplexity.” These difficulties arose partly
from losses, and from debts owing from small maltsters, partly from the
misconduct of the individual intrusted with the management of the
farm. She lessened her family as much as she could, by putting out
some of the bigger children to trades or servants’ places; but this was
attended with much expense, and the family still consisted of twenty-
five persons. Some change of plan seemed to be absolutely necessary.
There were not wanting advisers, who recommended her to break up
her establishment, when she would still have had enough to live upon,
with a servant or two. But this she could not bring herself to think
of, unless some way had opened for providing for all the members of
her family, as several were old, sickly, and helpless. In the height of
her perplexity, a gentleman, who had taken much interest in Miss Bo-
sanquet’s affairs, and had, on several occasions, assisted her with his
advice, generously made an offer of his hand, his heart, and his purse.
Few women in her situation would have hesitated to accept of so ad-
vantageous an offer. “His affections,” she informs us, “were strong,
sincere, and constant; his offers generous, and his sentiments tender.
He loved my family; and whoever was kind to me, found favour in his
eyes. This could not but, operate on my gratitude. I was deeply
pained. But I could not see him the man my highest reason chose to
obey. First, I did not so honour the light he had in religion as to be-
lieve it my privilege to be led thereby. Secondly, Though he was a
good man, and helpful to people in every respect, yet he did not see the
narrow path of walking close with God, asſ could wish the man I took for
a husband to do. Thirdly, Though I had a grateful love towards him, I
could not find that satisfying affection which flows from perfect confi-
dence, and which is the very spirit and soul of marriage. I felt, how-
ever, in the keenest manner, the need I had of his assistance in my
MRS. FLETCHER. 717
affairs; but I thought it ungenerous to the last degree, to accept of
help and counsel from one whose growing affection I was too sensible
of, but to which, however, I could make no return. I used the plainest
terms in assuring him of the impossibillty of our affection ever becoming
reciprocal ; and proposed the breaking off all acquaintance. He alleg-
ed in answer, ‘You cannot do without me: you will be ruined. God
hath made me your helper; and if you cannot see or feel as I do, we
will be only common friends. I will say no more on a subject so disa-
greeable to you.’”
In no event of her life, was the goodness of Divine Providence more
strikingly manifested, than in the raising up for her of this steady and
generous friend. Three years after this, she found herself involved in still
more serious embarrassments, owing to the failure of her former agent,
whom she had been advised to put into the farm as tenant, but whose debts
she found herself called upon in honour to discharge, to the amount of
600l. The above-mentioned individual now offered to lend the sum on in-
terest, and to become a partner with her in the farm and kilns, so as to
take the management of all. “Here,” she says, “I was quite at a loss. I
was almost ready to say, Darkness hath covered my path. Prudence,
delicacy, every lively sentiment started back at the thought. What I
come under such an obligation to the man I am constantly refusing !
Besides, such a fresh connexion will open the door to many trials. But
there was no alternative ; I must accept his help, or be ruined. I there-
fore followed what appeared to be the leadings of Providence.” Having
made this arrangement, she left the neighbourhood, and went to reside
for some months at Bath, Bristol, and the parts adjacent, not sorry to
make an excuse, she says, for getting two hundred miles from poor
Mr. , with whom her connexion must have been painfully embar-
rassing.
In the beginning of 1778, after an absence of six months, she return-
ed, “with thankfulness, though not without that kind of sensation,” she
tells us, “which a scourged child would have in returning to the rod.
I found crosses and troubles yet awaited me. Mr. * * * was still my
partner, and I was enabled to pay him and every creditor the full inter-
est of the money taken up ; but not to lessen the capital. Indeed, all
along, I was able to answer every demand. We continued our trade
some time longer; but at length Mr. * * * found my fears were better
grounded than his hopes. Instead of a hundred pounds to put into my
lap, (as he expected,) each year towards the debts, we found, on the stric-
test account of every grain of corn, pint of milk, or pound of butter,
either sold, or used in the family, that the farm did not pay its own way;
though he had put many things on a cheaper plan than before. The
interest also swallowed up so great a part of my income, that it was
not possible to keep more than half my family with what remained. As
to the kilns, I had neither money nor courage to work them. I thought
of many expedients. I strove, I worked hard, I prayed; and at length
proposed to the members of my family, to disperse, and learn some lit-
tle business, and I would allow each what I could.
“Great affliction now sat on every face. Tears were shed in plenty.
They alleged, ‘Till you can get rid of this place, you must live here.
If you leave it empty, the house will be spoiled, and that will injure
the sale ; and we know not what to do, nor how to turn. After being
718 MEMOIRS OF
twenty years with you, (said one,) how strange will a new situation
appear !—And I, said another, after eighteen years And after being
twelve years together, said some others, how hard it is to part l’ It was
a most painful time; and I saw there was no way, but first to sell the
place, and then disperse.
“But now a door seemed to open : a gentleman sent me word, that
he would buy the place, stock, lease, and all together. He was a man
both of fortune and of honour, and really wished to help me out of my
difficulties. The price which he offered would bring me through all,
and leave me a good income. Now I began to look up and to form a
plan for my future life, how to settle myself, and dispose of each
member of my family. I gave an account of every particular, and the
bargain was in part made. But, alas ! our wisdom is folly l—He took
a fever, and died in a few days To add to my difficulties, just at the
time, my brother wrote me word, that it would be throwing away the
Laytonstone estate to sell it with so long a lease upon it, and that it
could not with any propriety be done. I now saw but one way,+to
advertise Cross-hall, and sell it for what I could ; and paying that
away as far as it would go, strive yearly to lessen the remaining part of
the debt by my income : reserving only fifty pounds per year to live on,
and out of it to help my friends. But I recollected, that I might not
live long enough thus to pay the debt by my income. I had still a
strong confidence in a promise given to me before I went to Bath, that
no one should lose any thing by me ; yet I thought it was required of
me, to do every thing in my power towards it.
“I then proposed to myself to keep only twenty pounds per year.
Nay, I thought, how can I have a right even to twenty 1 Justice is be-
fore mercy. They must all shift for themselves, and I will do the same.
I may perhaps find some little business, by which life may be sustained,
till my affairs take a favourable turn. It is true, nobody calls in their
money, nor seems to have a fear concerning it ; — yet, it is my duty to
take the more care for them, because of their confidence in me. It may
be supposed, as I was daily striving to part with the place, and expecting
to turn out, that my thoughts frequently were occupied on what way of
life I should choose, as most conducive to the glory of God; — and
during this season, the Lord did teach me many lessons of poverty and
resignation. It seemed to me, no manner of life could be disagreea-
ble, if I had but a prospect of having no debts.-One day, as I was
standing at a window, musing on this subject, I saw a poor man driv-
ing some asses laden with sand, by which he gained his bread. As I
looked on him, a spring of satisfaction ran through my mind, and I
thought, —I am perfectly willing to take up the business of that man.
If I preserve unsold one of the freehold cottages, the asses might graze
on the common, and I could follow them with something to sell. There
were but few trades which my conscience would suffer me to follow ;
and my abilities were equal to still fewer. But to any thing in the
whole world would I turn, that was not sinful, rather than remain in
debt. I do not mean that I decided to act thus, but so conformed was
my mind to poverty at this time, that the thought of even that employ-
ment, as it now glanced through it, gave me a real pleasure. However
open I had been with my relations concerning my affairs hitherto, I de-
termined to conceal all personal wants; for if I voluntarily gave up my
MRS, FLETCHER. 719
income for the payment of my debts, I did not see it to be just to live on
theirs; and this would not have been difficult, as I had no relation that
lived within two hundred miles.
“During this suspense, conversing one day with my friend, Mr. * * *,
he said : * Indeed I an at a loss what to do for you. I thought to
have helped you greatly by the continuance of the farm ; but alas ! I
wish I had suffered you to advertise and sell it for any thing six years
ago: and you then could have done it. It is now too late. The nation
is engaged in wars: you would now sell it for a trifle. I consulted some
friends the other day, who all agree, that separate from the stock, you
must not expect above six hundred pounds for the whole place. You
are ruined, madam – You withstand the order of God. My fortune
is enough for you and me. — But you cannot see in my light. — May
the Lord stand by you ! — But I cannot think of a partnership any
longer; the blame would fall on me !”
“ It was now the summer of 1781. The seventh of June in that
year, I entered into my fourteenth year in Yorkshire. — I had all along
an impression, that about that season something would open. One day,
as I was walking up a narrow lane which had a stile at the top, I saw
a flock of sheep before me. The shepherd had hard work to drive them
on; they seemed determined to turn again. I thought, Well they may,
for there is no gate, no way through ; what can he wish them to do
He forced them along, however, with dogs and sticks. I said in my
mind, These sheep are like me, driven on in a narrow path without any
way to get out. I followed at a distance, expecting every moment they
would turn back upon me, when all at once they began to run, and I
discovered a new-made gate into a spacious field of turnips. In a
minute they were dispersed, and fell to their full pasture with great de-
light. Faith whispered to my heart, so shall a door open before you in
the appointed time.”
The workings of her mind, under these trying circumstances, will be
more fully seen from the following extracts from her Diary.
“January 5, 1776. I find it very hard to be recollected in private
prayer. To-day I tried the following plan with some advantage. I
placed my watch on the bed, that I might, know when the hour was
out. I first strove to consider myself as in the presence of God,—as
before the throne, worshipping with the heavenly host. Then I strove
with recollection to repeat the Lord’s prayer, giving each sentence full
scope in my mind. In the words—“Our Father,” I felt a powerful re-
membrance of Him, after whom the whole family in heaven and earth
is named, and with delight I then repeated, “Hallowed be thy name !”
That sentence, ‘Thy kingdom come,” was much opened to my soul. I
see that kingdom is the great “promise of the Father,’ which Christ said
he would send upon his children. That indeed is ‘the kingdom which
suffers violence, and the violent take it by force.” As I repeated, “Thy
will be done on earth, as it is in heaven,” I felt
“The will of God my sure defence:
Nor earth nor hell can pluck me thence.”
* Give us this day our daily bread.” Is He not our own Father? Is .
he not engaged to provide for his babes | Well then, thought I, freedom
from debt is more to me than bread, and will he not preserve me from
720 MEMOIRS OF
this? It was then brought to my mind, “The Lord is my shepherd, I
shall not want.” In the next petition," Forgive me as I forgive;’ Oh!
what a cry did I feel for more love | Lord, must I say,
‘That mercy I to others show
* That mercy show to me?’
Ah no l I will rather cry out,
Mercy, good Lord! Mercy I ask,
It is the total sum;
For mercy, Lord, is all my plea,
O let thy mercy come.”
“With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again!’ Ohow
would that cut me off from all hope, were it not for those words,-‘The
blood of Jesus cleanseth from all sin P ‘Lead us not into temptation.”
How hath this prayer been answered to me! How would I have run into
ruin, but thou didst not suffer the temptation to approach. Thou didst
keep my powers as with bit and bridle, and conquered for me ; and that
when I did not strive, or even know my danger “But deliver us from
evil.” Lord, I am a desolate woman, who hath no helper but thee. O
keep me from evil of every kind: thoroughly purge away my dross,
and take away all my sin. For all is thine for ever and ever. This I
am assured of, when the soul turns inward to seek the Lord, that mo-
ment he turns to it, and smiles upon it; and if it abides with Him, it
will always grow. But as of a healthy child, one does not see it grow,
and yet it doth ; so the soul, surrounded by temptation, may not dis-
cover its growth ; nevertheless the sun does not more freely give its
light and warmth to the earth, than the beams of the immaterial Sun
meet the seeking soul.”
“August, 1780. O Lord, how peculiar are thy ways towards me !
What wouldst thou have me to dº | Here I am ; command what thou
wilt. Bring me to a state of poverty, reproach, a work-house, or what
thou wilt, only let me not mistake my way. It is true, I have more
than I owe, and as yet an income for life, enough for myself. But I
cannot support these expenses and losses. And yet it seems I cannot
get deliverance from them | Every answer to prayer is only," Stand still,
and see my salvation.” Lord, I am ready to do so; but all cry out, ‘It
is madness not to do something.” And yet, Thou seemest to frustrate
all I attempt. I strive to save in every thing, and many ways I have
tried to do so; but unless all did the same, it makes little difference.
When I attempt new things of the kind, various difficulties arise; and
some are apt to say, ‘Save in something else : you do not run out in
this l?
“The other day, a friend said, he was desired to ask me, “If I did
not do wrong in spending so much time on the sick poor, in making
medicines, clothes, &c. P. And **** said, ‘It is a poor way of spending
your time thus, for the bodies of the people. If that is your call, it is a
mean call !” I have pondered the thought ; and having set apart a day
for fasting and prayer, the result of my most serious reflections were as
follows:—
* What was my setting out, or first light? Why, from seven years
told, (the first time I felt a spark of faith,) my conviction was, not to
ibéconformed to the customs, fashions, and maxims of the world; and my
MRS. FLETCHER. 721
frequent prayer was, as a little Manuscript now by me proves, Lord,
bring me out from among the ungodly Cast my lot, with ‘the poor
who are rich in faith ;’ and make me to have my delight with ‘the ex-
cellent of the earth.” And then I will not complain for toil, poverty, or
reproach. *
“When I was seventeen, my desires after holiness began to deepen,
and I found a particular call to a further dedication of my soul to God,
in those words of St. Paul to Timothy, descriptive of the character of
those women who in the primitive churches were chosen as deaconesses.
* If she have lodged strangers, if she have brought up children, if she
have washed the saints’ feet, and diligently followed after every good
work.”— When I was twenty-one, being brought to the choice of my
own manner of life, I was enabled in a degree to follow the plans thus
formerly laid down.
“As to my present way of life, of which a visitor said a few days ago,
* I think, madam, your call is a strange one,— to the care of cows and
horses, sheep and pigs;’ referring to my farm, I considered, I am, by the
order of Providence, made mistress of a great family, and in straitened
circumstances. There is therefore occasion for all my care and manage-
ment, otherwise the embarrassment would be much greater. And it is
good for the uncommon pride of my nature, to bow before that word,
* In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread.” It is true, I have bread
enough for myself, but having joined the interest of so many with my
own, I am willing to act thus, that they may have bread too. The
Lord hath been pleased, also, to enable me to help the sick ; this calls
for some labour and some small expenses in preparing and applying the
medicines: but many souls have been blest, and several brought to God
thereby. Some rich persons, to whose ear I could never have had ac-
cess, have through the belief that I could help their bodies, admitted the
closest application to their souls: so that I dare as soon cut off my right
hand as bury this trifling talentin a napkin. The souls under my roof also
call for more diligent care than I am conscious I bestow upon them ; and
though some say, ‘I do not regard as any thing what you do for the
family; that is only burying yourself in one house ; yet I see it my
duty, and I must apply thereto.
“Again, I believe, I should strive to get at the neighbours, who live
within my knowledge, and do good to their souls, if I can. To this it
is replied, ‘You spend too much time in one neighbourhood.” But per-
haps I shall soon be called to leave this neighbourhood and this family,
and then I shall not repent of that application. I am also called to keep
together some precious meetings, in which the work of God flourishes,
and to go sometimes to meet others in more distant places, as well as to
write many letters on the concerns of the soul. And now I ask,-Lord,
am I in my place, or not " To which it seemed my conscience gave the
following answer:— The surest mark of true piety, is to fill up the du-
ties of our own station with the utmost fidelity. We may plan fine
schemes, talk of many journeys, and see ourselves converting whole
worlds,- but in these airy phantoms, there is much danger of self hav-
ing a great mixture. Whereas, in the application to the order of God,
in the present time, as it opens itself from moment to moment, there is
no room for choice. I have heard good people say, ‘ I am weary of life,
because o the burdens which I have to bear. I want to spend all my
722 MEMOIRS OF •
time in a more excellent way.” And yet, as soon as they throw off one
burden, the Lord finds them another. But the soul truly devoted to
God, finds no oppressive burden in the opening of the present moment,
which shows the divine order of his providence, and brings with it, to
the resigned soul, both ſight and power, either to act or suffer. In a
low degree I find that to be my case. I am called to work; and therein
I fulfil my covenant, not to complain of toil, although my wages seem
to be put into a ‘bag full of holes.’ I cannot have my own choice here-
in ; nor do I complain of poverty. Thus I am often upbraided for
walking in that order in which, (till I can get out of it,) undoubtedly
the Lord hath placed me. I sink under His yoke, and if I can but keep
free from impatience or discouragement, I may fulfil His will, and shall
not complain of reproach. But, alas! I do too often admit discouragement,
and am ready to cry out,
“Ah, whither or to whom shall I,
Far from these woes, for kind protection fly?"
Yet something says in my heart, a time is at hand when the Lord
will bring me out of these deep waters;– and I am determined to “stard
still and see His salvation.’”
We have now arrived at one of the most remarkable events in Mrs.
Fletcher's history. It appears from her own ingenuous narrative, that
so far back as the year 1761 or 2, when Miss Bosanquet had recently
joined the society, the Rev. Mr. Fletcher, at that time Mr. Wesley’s
assistant in London, had made, by his preaching, a strong impression
on her mind. “I had no other thought,” she tells us, “but devoting
myself to God in a single life; only I remember, I sometimes thought,
were I to be married to Mr. Fletcher, would he not be rather a help,
than a hinderance to my soul ? But it was only a thought, and had
arisen from what some friends said to me on the subject.” Still, it was
a thought which, though very properly dismissed at the time, would
frequently recur; and it assumed at length the character of a favourite
impression, for which it is not difficult to account, that would sometimes
solace her in the midst of her difficulties. “It is sometimes presented
to my mind,” she said on one occasion to her confidential friend Mrs.
Ryan, “that I should be called to marry Mr. Fletcher.” The reply
was judicious : “I like him the best of any man, if ever you do take
that step. But unless he should be of a very tender disposition towards
you, you would not be happy; But God will direct you.” It afterwards
appeared that she was not at this period an object of indifference to Mr.
Fletcher; but the fear of being thought to have respect to the lady’s
fortune, rather than her person, led him to dismiss and fight against the
impression. That the interest she felt for him, amounted, unconscious-
ly, to a tender partiality for his person, is pretty evident. There can be
little doubt that it was the true, though unsuspected cause of her stand-
ing so stiffly, as her friends complained, in the choice of a single life;
and, in particular, of her rejecting a man for whom she felt a grateful
affection, and whom so many circumstances conspired to point it out
as her interest, if nother duty, to accept. It seems that, after refusing
that individual, her mind recurred to this favourite impression, “ Per-
haps Mr. Fletcher is to be my deliverer.” But she started, she says,
from the very idea, lest it should be a stratagem from Satan. She had not
MRS. FLETCHER. 723
at that time either seen or heard from him for more than fifteen years.
In August 1777, she states, on “going into a friend’s house who was just
come from the Conference, he said, “Do you know that Mr. Fletcher,
of Madeley, is dying Indeed I know not but he is dead. If he hold
out a little longer, he is to go abroad; but it is a pity, for he will die by
the way, being in the last stage of a consumption.” I heard the account
with the utmost calmness. For some days I bore his burden before the
Lord ; and constantly offered him up to the will of God. A few days
after, another of my acquaintance wrote word, ‘Mr. Fletcher is very
bad ; spits blood profusely, and perspires profusely every night. Some
have great hope that prayer will raise him up; but for my part, I believe
he is a dying man, as sure as he is now a living one.” As I was one day
in prayer, offering him up to the Lord, these words passed my mind,-
* The prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him
up.' I said, ‘Lord, I dare not ask it; I leave it to thy sacred will ; Thy
will be done !”
“The following thoughts occurred to my mind: If the Lord should
raise him up, and bring him in safety back to England, and he should
propose such a step, could I doubt its being of God, after such an answer
to prayer" Yet, fearing a deception, I cried to the Lord to keep me in
his narrow way, whatever I might suffer; and felt an unaccountable
liberty to ask the following signs, if it really were of him. 1. That
Mr. Fletcher might be raised up. 2. That he might be brought back
to England. 3. That he would write to me on the subject before he
saw me, though we had been so many years asunder without so much
as a message passing on any subject. 4. That he would in that letter
tell me, it had been the object of his thoughts and prayers for some
years. It came to my mind further, that should this occur in the
end of the year 1781, it would be a still greater confirmation, as Provi-
dence seemed to point me to that season as a time of hope.”
At length the 7th of June, 1781, arrived, the day when she began
her fourteenth year in Yorkshire, and her difficulties appeared as great,
and as far from their termination as ever. But, on the 8th, she receiv-
ed a letter from Mr. Fletcher, in which he told her, that he had for
twenty-five years cherished a regard for her, which was still as sincere
as ever; and that, though it might appear odd he should write on such
a subject, when but just returned from abroad, and without first seeing
her, he could only say, his mind was so strongly drawn to do it, he be-
lieved it to be of God. This letter could not fail to appear to Miss Bosan-
quet in the light of a striking accomplishment of her presentiment: it
answered in every particular to the marks by which she had desired that
such an event should be characterized ; and whatever may be thought
of her impressions, the hand of Divine Providence must be recognized
as very signally displayed in the event. They corresponded with
openness and freedom till Aug. 1st, when Mr. Fletcher came to Cross
Hall, and spent a month there, preaching in the neighbourhood with
much success. He then returned to his parish; for, till Miss Bosanquet’s
affairs could be settled, the farm disposed of, and her family provided for,
she could not think of marrying. Week after week elapsed, and still
deliverance seemed to be delayed. At length, she had consented to
take the step, in faith, in a fortnight, when a gentleman came and
bought the estate; three days after, another took the stock, &c.; while
724 MEMOIRS OF
a way seemed to open for each member of the family, so that, with a
little assistance, every one had a comfortable prospect of maintenance.
She was married to Mr. Fletcher in November 1781, and, after remain-
ing some time to settle all her accounts, they set out for Madeley on
the 2d of January following.
Among the many remarkable circumstances which attended her re-
moval, was her receiving from her younger brother, very unexpectedly,
a present of a hundred pounds, for which sum she was at a loss, to com-
plete all her arrangements; and which corresponded to an extraordin-
ary prognostication of one of her friends, founded on a dream, that Mrs.
Fletcher should be so relieved by her brother, from whom she had no
reason to expect any assistance. In this, and several similar instances,
the veracity of the parties is unquestionable, nor was there room for
any self-deception : the fact, therefore, is beyond dispute, that such
dreams, having all the character of prophetic intimations, were the pre-
cursors, in many instances, of the answering events. No one who be-
lieves in the Bible can doubt, that dreams are among the means of di-
rection, instruction, or comfort, of which it sometimes pleases the Al-
mighty Father of our spirits to make use for the purposes of his wisdom
and love. But this belief, so far from sanctioning an indiscriminate
and superstitious regard to dreams, will, in a pious mind, tend only to
strengthen a devout confidence in an over-ruling Providence. Dreams
can never be the rule of action : such a use of them would be alike dan-
gerous and absurd. Had Mrs. Fletcher suffered herself to be swayed
by such impressions,—had she in any case acted upon her dreams, and
upon dreams only, she would have deserved the reproach of enthusiasm.
But her belief in their supernatural origin—a belief by no means at
variance with reason or philosophy—had no other effect than rendering
her attentive to the moral lessons which they seemed adapted to con-
vey : they encouraged, but never impelled her to act. There can be
no question that a pious mind may derive much instruction from dreams,
without giving way to any superstitious notions respecting them ; with-
out going any further than the belief, that dreams, with every other cir-
cumstance, however minute, that can affect our character, are under
the control of a superintending Providence. Superstition begins where
religion ends. When persons, who are far enough from being religious
enthusiasts, are found rashly acting upon dreams and impressions which
even they themselves do not pretend to refer to a Divine origin, but,
while they imagine them to have a connexion with the future, do not at
all connect them with God, this is at once superstition and credulity.
Mrs. Fletcher's happiness in married life was but of short duration :
Mr. Fletcher did not survive his return to England much more than
four years. During this brief period, her diary breathes the language
of fervent and overflowing gratitude. Every wish seemed gratified,
and her attachment to her saintly husband appears to have been as
ardent as it was pure. The following extracts will best show the
agonizing transition which she was called to suffer, from a state of the
highest earthly happiness, to the most profound and disconsolate
grief.
“July 26. Certainly I have now scarce any cross. Thou hast
made my cup to run over ! Yea, thou hast made me to forget all my
sorrows. It seems as if I had never suffered any thing. There is not a
MRS. FLETCHER. 725
comfort I can wish for, which I have not ;-but, Lord, I want more
race |
grº October 25. When I wrote last (July 26,) I was indeed arrived
at the summit of human felicity My cup did indeed run over ! I
often said, Lord, how is this Am I indeed one of those of whom it is
said, ‘These are they who came out of great tribulation l’ My way is
strewed with roses. I am ready to say with Joseph, “The Lord hath
made me to forget all my afflictions, and all my father’s house !”
“But oh how shall I write it !—On the 14th of August, 1785, the ,
dreadful moment came ! The sun of my earthly joys for ever set, and ,
the cloud arose which casts the sable on all my future life I At half-
past ten that Sabbath night, I closed the eyes of my beloved What
a change | The whole creation wears a new face to me. The posture
of my mind at this season, I will not trust my memory to describe. I will
leave in it the rough manner I then set it down. Perhaps some one walk-
ing in the same dreary path, may find a little comfort therefrom. To
others, it may be dry and insipid. “The heart knoweth its own bitterness.”
“On September 15, 1785, I wrote in my diary as follows:—‘ I am
truly a desolate woman, who hath no helper but thee.’ I remember, a
little before the translation of my dearest love, we were drawn out con-
tinually to ask for a greater measure of the Spirit—such a measure as
was given at Pentecost; or, in other words, such a manifestation of the
loving nature of God, as should fulfil in us that promise, ‘Ye are the
temples of the Holy Ghost.” This I asked and pleaded for, and that on
any condition. My dear Mr. Fletcher used to say, ‘That is right, Polly,
let us hold fast there, and leave all the rest to God; though He should
be constrained to part us asunder to give the answer.
“On the Tuesday before my love died, when those words were ap-
plied to my mind, “Where I am, there shall my servants be, that they
may behold my glory,” I felt such a power in them, as seemed in a
great degree to take away the bitterness even of that dreadful cup. “To
behold my glory !” That thought would for moments swallow up all,
and I seemed to lose myself in the desire of his glory being manifested.
But that awful night ! when I had hung over my dear husband for
many hours, expecting every breath to be his last, and during which
time he could not speak to, nor take any notice of me, a flood of unspeak-
able sorrow overspread my heart, and quite overwhelmed my spirit. I
was scarcely in my senses;–and such a fear seized my soul lest I should
say or do any thing displeasing to the Lord, that I was torn as it were a
thousand ways at once.
“My fatigue had been great; I was barely recovered of my fever,
and this stroke so tore my nerves, that it was an inlet to much tempta-
tion. In former parts of my life, I have felt deep sorrow ; but such
were now my feelings, that no words I am able to think of can convey
an adequate idea thereof.”
Mrs. Fletcher survived her beloved husband upwards of thirty years.
Agreeably to his recommendation, she continued to reside at Madeley,
the new vicar permitting her to rent the parsonage-house. A few de-
tached extracts from her diary will complete the portrait of her charac-
ter, by showing the state of her feelings as a widow indeed and a mother
in Israel.
“October, 1785. The Lord hath looked on my temporal affairs, be-
726 MEMOIRS OF
yond what I could have expected. I observed, soon after my marriage,
that all was now made quite easy. I looked on the promise as already
fulfilled, having in Layton a good deal more than would pay all. Some
hundreds were however still on interest, though we had lessened the
sum, while my dear and I were together. But soon after he was taken
from me, I received a letter from a person of whom I had borrowed
some years before a hundred and fifty pounds, stating that he wanted
it directly; and I had at this season a good deal to pay on other ac-
counts. As I wished to be free, for the remainder of my short days,
from unnecessary care, I had a desire that the estate at Layton-stone
should be sold, and the demands all settled at once. I found, however,
that could not be done without loss, and therefore proposed to pay
yearly all I could out of my income, which was now increased by the
tender care of my dear husband. But my youngest brother, William
Bosanquet, whom I had not seen for some years, came down on a visit
to me. He expressed the greatest sympathy and tenderness towards me
in this time of trial ; and, after staying with me some days, generous-
ly supplied me with all the cash I then needed. Some months after,
an uncle dying without leaving me any thing, (and indeed I did not
think I had any right to expect it,) my brothers wrote me word, that
they were very sorry I was not remembered in the will;—and my
youngest brother desired me to accept of five hundred pounds (or more
if I wanted it) to settle all my affairs. Here was the exact fulfilment
of Mrs. Clapham's impression concerning us ! This very brother, whom
she then saw, (though at that time there was not the least reason to
think of any such thing,) did afterwards, as it was represented to her,
bring me many smaller sums, and at last one so large as to remove all
burdens at once from my shoulders | And in January 1787, I wrote in
my diary, ‘I now owe no man any thing but love : my income is
quite clear, and I have, according to the promise, great plenty of
silver !”
“July 22, 1786. Yesterday I was at the chapel in Madeley Wood,
and found much freedom of spirit while speaking on these words,
‘Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name.’ This morn-
ing I feel my soul cast on the Lord, and was blessed in reading those
words of Fenelon: ‘Your letter leaves me nothing to wish for. It con-
fesses all that is past, and promises every thing for the future. With
regard to the past, you need only leave it to God, with an humble con-
fidence, and repair it by a constant fidelity. You ask, What penances
are required for the past ! Can we perform greater or more salutary
ones, than bearing our present crosses 4 The best reparation of our
past vanities is the being humble, and content that God should humble
us. The most rigorous of all penances is, notwithstanding all our dis-
likes and weariness, to do daily and hourly the will of God rather than
our own.’”
“June 26, 1790. I am much led this morning to pray for a resigned
will, to stand to the beck of my Lord with a ready mind. Yes, he shall
do with me and mine as seems to him good. Company in the house is a
great cross; they consume much time, and the serving tables seems to
clash with my Sabbath employment. But in this also, thou, my Lord,
shalt dispose and direct: only give me a watchful mind, and then set
me to entertain all the strangers thou pleasest. I know not what
MRS. FLETCHER. 727
blessed angels may come with them as their attendants, and I will
keep to my old motto—
“O that my Lord would count me meet
To wash his dear disciples' feet;
After my lowly Lord to go,
And wait upon his saints below;
Enjoy the grace to angels given,
And serve the royal heirs of heaven P
But I see there needs a determination to be singular. Some professors,
when they have company in the house, sit chatting with them all day.
This I must not do. It was one of the first lessons God taught me, to
keep to my rules of retirement; to do my business, as to writing, visiting
the sick, meeting the classes, &c.; leaving them to their freedom, and
taking mine. One part of my work must not overturn another.”
“August 14. What have I seen within these five years 1 This
day five years my beloved was on his death-bed. But how is it with
me now " I answer, and from the ground of my heart, ‘It is well.”
I have nothing to do but to praise ! I love him at this moment as much
as ever I did in my life ; but I love the will of God still better. Yes,
I adore thee, my almighty Saviour, that thou hast done thine own will
and not mine ! And that my dearest love has been five years in glory.
O that I might be permitted to feel a little of what he now is, lost and
swallowed up in thee Lord, are we not one 4 “The head of the woman
is the man, as the head of the man is Christ ;’ and ‘whom God hath
joined together, none can put asunder.” Adam and Eve were never
intended to be separated; and shall sin so overturn thy original design,
as that it cannot be restored by the Saviour ! Surely, no As thou
hast taken away the sting of sin, so thou hast taken away the smart of
separation. We are yet one ; and shall I not feel a communication
from thyself passing through that channel '! Lord, make me spiri-
tually minded, ‘meet to partake of the inheritance of the Saints in
light.’”
“August 16, 1792. Thursday. On Tuesday last was the anni-
versary of my dear husband’s death. Seven years have passed since
that awful scene. Seven years has he been in glory ! And I, a poor
mournful widow, walking below through my pilgrimage alone. But
what mercies have I seen in those seven years Oh, had I at first
known I should have stayed so iong here, it would have looked very
sad. But I feel more and more that we are to live the present moment,
and I find help and strength are given for every hour. It was a solemn
but good day to me. My husband seemed unspeakably dear and near
to me; but the love of the will of God kept me all day above every
painful feeling.” *
“September 12, 1792. This day I am fifty-three years old. O. that
I may from this day begin a new life . Once more we are free from com-
pany; and I am led to give myself more abundantly to private prayer.
Since we have been alone, a deep conviction has rested on my mind
of the shortness of time, and how little longer I may retain any degree of
health. Therefore I determined to seek for an increase of the Spirit to
unite me more to himself, as he sees good, so I may but glorify him. ... I
seem to be threatened with a cancer, and rather seemed to shrink at the
728 MEMOIRS OF
prospect. But it may be the answer of my own prayer; and I still
say, Only make me holy 1” -
“January 5, 1796. This day I have been fourteen years in Madeley.
It seems but as yesterday. What crucifying scenes have I passed
through ! Yet not one too much. No, my adorable Lord, ‘ thou hast
done all things well !’”
“September 12, 1799. I am this day threescore. My dear husband
would have been seventy. But he has had fourteen years in glory.
Lord, prepare me for all prepared for me ! ... O let me live my last days
to thy glory as I have never done ! Yesterday the Lord gave me that
word, “When thou goest through the waters, they shall not overflow
thee.’ I asked if I might pray for my dearest comfort to be spared.
That text seemed an answer, ‘Be careful for nothing, but in every thing
by prayer and supplication, make your request known unto God.” For
some days her cough has been more strong, and more frequent. I feel
the will of God my sure defence. If he please, he can yet raise my
dear friend; but if he have otherwise determined, ‘It is the Lord.”
He cannot err: I will not choose.”
“ August 14, 1806. Three seven years have I walked in widow-
hood. O what a situation was I in this day twenty-one years! What
trials have I since known, but what mercies also ! Yes, my gracious
Lord, I find thou dost order all for me ! This day I renew my covenant
to be all the Lord’s. I know not what bitter cups may yet be preparing
for me, but I here cast myself wholy into thy hands ! My body is
weak with age, and threatened with many painful disorders; but I
leave all to thy adorable will. Miss Tooth seems threatened with a
consumption. This would be an unspeakable loss, for she takes off all
care from me, and is in every way an abundant comfort and help : but
this I also offer up to thee, my Lord.
“September 12. This day I entered into my 68th year. None of
my family have lived to my age. Lord, what shall I do to live more
abundantly to thee O that I may take up every cross, and embrace
it . a precious jewel' O, the great advantage of living in the will of
God |
“November 12. A memorable day to me ! This day twenty-five
years I gave my hand to my dear Mr. Fletcher. O, what a oneness of
soul do I feel with him still ! Lord, give me the meetness to partake of
that joy he lives in 1—I have of late been convinced it would help my
faith, to consider deeply what great loving-kindness and guardian care
I have experienced from the Lord since he hath taken my dear partner
to glory. I may say, indeed, that ‘goodness and mercy have followed
me all my days.” What a mercy that this house is still my home ! The
vicar might have wanted it himself, or he might wish to let it to some
other person. But in this Mr. Burton hath shown me much kindness
as also Mr. Kenerson, the patron : may God bless them for it, and give
them both everlasting habitations ! At this time I feel my soul drawn
out after a closer union with the Lord.”
“August 14, 1812. This is always a solemn day. Seven and
twenty years hath my beloved husband been in glory. O, what heights
of holiness may he have attained Lord, what have I gained in this
long season " I might have attained to much more than I have, but
blessed be the Lord, I do feel an increase; and my spirit pants after
MRS. FLETCHER. 729
the ‘fulness of God.”, I find stronger faith; I am filled with blessings t
I see the hand of God in all; and such answers to prayer as amaze
me ! My body is full of infirmities, yet I am able to creep through each
day, and to work a little in my Lord’s vineyard. Truly, my last days
are my best. *.
“ September 12. I have, this day, reached my seventy-third year,
and I feel a strong desire that this may be a birth-day to my soul.
have such a sense of a full blessing purchased for me, with such a near
approach to God, that I long to attain it. I wait at the feet of my dear
Saviour for a fuller display of his love. f *
“November 12. It is thirty-one years, this day, since I was united
to my dear husband. O, blessed union | What cause have I of praise
for that providence It seems but yesterday, and he is as near and dear
as ever. I cannot see to write half what I feel in my heart; but I will
add, my cup overflows with mercy ; glory be to God! . . . .
* January, 1813. And now another year is gone, and I see the be.
ginning of a new one. I feel an increase of faith within this last day
or two ; some refreshing beams of glory now and then have touchédray
soul. 0 for a deeper draught ! . . . t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
&
From Sion's top the breezes blow,
And cheer us in the vale below.’
“February 20. I have read with much pleasure the account of the
work of God in India. I praise the Lord for that excellent man, Pro-
fessor Francke. It was from his college several of the missionaries
went to India, and, among others, that great instrument, Mr. Swartz.
Glory be to God, who hath raised us these ‘angels of the churches.”
Every look at them makes me shrink into nothing. Yet we may be
permitted to follow them with our prayers. Lord, increase the number
3f such men I Bless their endeavours, and fill them with thy Spirit!”
“August 14, 1815. Thirty years, this day, I drank the bitter cup, and
closed the eyes of my beloved husband ; and now I am myself in a
dying state. Lord, prepare me ! I feel death very near. My soul doth
wait and long to fly to the bosom of my God. Come, my adorable Sa-
viour ! I lie at thy feet ; I long for all thy fulness | Bless my dear and
faithful friend. Keep her secure. I long for the day when we shall
all meet above.
“September 12. This day I am seventy-six years old, and the
same day my dear husband would have been eighty-six. Surely we
shall remember the scenes we have had together. But, O my God, give
me power to cleave to thee every moment 1 I feel the powers of dark-
ness are vehemently striving to distract and hinder me. O my God
and Father, enable me to walk in thy constant presence 1 O Jesus,
Jesus 1 fill me with thy love, pour out thy Spirit abundantly upon me,
and make my heart thy constant home !”
“October 26. I have had a bad night ; but asking help of the Lord
for closer communion, my precious Lord applied that word, ‘I have
borne thy sins in my own body on the tree.” I felt his presence. I
seem very near death; but I long to fly into the arms of my beloved
Lord. I feel his loving-kindness surrounds me.”
The journal ends here. Mrs. Fletcher died on the ninth day of the
92
%30 MEMOIRS OF
December following. For the last month of her life, her breath was
more oppressed than usual. She had also a very troublesome cough, and
her strength rapidly declined. On the 8th of December, she considered
herself as dying; and when with difficulty helped into bed, said to the
friend who was attending her, “My love, this is the last time I shall
get into bed : it has been hard work to get in, but it is work I shall do
no more. . This oppression on my breath cannot last long; but all is
well. . The Lord will shower down ten thousand blessings upon thee,
my tender nurse, my kind friend.” She then desired her to hasten to
bed, replying to her friend’s importunate entreaties to be permitted to
sit up with her, “You have done all for me you can do. I cannot rest
without you go to bed.” On this, her friend lay down without undress-
ing. Mrs. Fletcher then inquired whether she was in bed; and, on
being answered in the affirmative, said, “That's right. Now, if I can
rest, I will ; but let our hearts be united in prayer, and the Lord bless
both thee and me.” These were the last words she uttered. About
one o’clock, the noise her breath had long made, ceased; and her
friend, on hastening to the bedside, found that the spirit had peacefully
fled, leaving on her countenance the expression of quiet slumber
THE END.
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